Lyf. This Lion is a very fox for his valour. Thef. True; and a goofe for his discretion. Dem. Not fo, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his discretion, and the fox carries the goofe. Thef. His difcretion, I am fure, cannot carry his valour; for the goofe carries not the fox. It is well; leave it to his difcretion, and let us hearken to the moon. Moon. This lanthorn doth the horned moon prefent. Dem. He fhould have worn the horns on his head. Thef. He is no crefcent, and his horns are invifible within the circumference. Moon. This lanthorn doth the horned moon prefent: My felf the man i'th' moon doth feem to be. Thef. This is the greatest error of all the reft; the man fhould be put into the lanthorn: how is it elfe the man i'th' moon? Dem. He dares not come there for the candle; for you fee, it is already in fnuff. Hip. I am weary of this moon; 'would, he would change! Thef. It appears by his fmall light of difcretion, that he is in the wane; but yet in courtefie, in all reafon, we must stay the time. Lyf. Proceed, Moon. Moon. All that I have to fay, is to tell you that the lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog. Dem. Why, all thefe fhould be in the lanthorn; for they are in the moon. But, filence; here comes Thisbe Enter Thisbe. Thif. This is old Ninny's tomb; where is my love? Lion. Oh. [The Lion roars, Thisbe runs off. Dem. Well roar'd, Lion. Thef. Well run, Thisbe. Hip. Well fhone, Moon. Truly, the Moon fhines with a good grace. Dem. And then came Pyramus. Pyr. Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy funny beams; But ftay: O fpight! But mark, poor Knight, What dreadful dole is here? Eyes, do you fee! How can it be! O dainty duck! O deer! Thy mantle good, What, ftain'd with blood! O fates! come, come: Quail, crush, conclude, and quell. Thef. This paffion, and the death of a dear friend Would go near to make a man look fad. Hip. Befhrew my heart, but I pity the man. Which isno, no- which was the faireft dame, That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheer. Come tears, confound: out fword, and wound Ay, that left pap, where heart doth hop: Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead, now am I fled, my foul is in the sky; Tongue, Tongue, lofe thy light: moon, take thy flight; [Dies. Dem. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one. Lyf. Lefs than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing. TheJ. With the help of a Surgeon he might yet recover, and prove an afs. Hip. How chance the Moonshine is gone, before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover? Enter Thisbe. Thef. She will find him by ftar-light. Here the comes; and her paffion ends the Play. Hip. Methinks, fhe fhould not use a long one for fuch a Pyramus: I hope, fhe will be brief. Dem. A moth will turn the ballance, which Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better. [eyes. Lyf. She hath fpy'd him already with thofe fweet Dem. And thus fhe (a) moans, videlicet. Thef. Afleep, my love? What dead, my dove? O Pyramus, arife: Speak, fpeak. Quite dumb? Muft cover thy fweet eyes. Thefe lilly brows, This cherry nofe, Thefe yellow cowflip cheeks, Are gone, are gone: His eyes were green as leeks, Come, come to me, With hands as pale as milk; Lave them in gore, [(a) - moans - Mr. Theobald. Vulg. means.] Since M 4 Since you have fhore With fhears his thread of filk. Tongue, not a word: Come, trufty fword; Come, blade, my breast imbrue : And farewel, friends, Thus Thisbe ends; Adieu, adieu, adieu. [Dies. Thef. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead. Dem. Ay, and Wall too. Bot. No, I affure you, the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to fee the epilogue, or to hear a bergomask dance, between two of our company? Thef. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excufe. Never excufe; for when the players are all dead, there need none to be blam'd. Marry, if he, that writ it, had play'd Pyramus, and hung himself in Thisbe's garter it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it is, truly, and very notably discharg'd. But come, your bergomask; let your Epilogue alone. [Here a dance of clowns. The heavy gate of night. Sweet friends, to bed. [Exeunt. SCENE Puck. "Now the hungry lion roars, "And the wolf behowls the moon: "Whilft the heavy plowman fnoars, "All with weary task fore-done. "Now the wafted brands do glow, "Whilst the scritch-owl, fcritching loud, "Puts the wretch, that lies in woe, "In remembrance of a fhroud. "Now it is the time of night, "That the graves, all gaping wide, "Every one lets forth his fpright, "In the church-way paths to glide; "And we Fairies, that do run "By the triple Hecate's team, "From the presence of the fun, "Following darkness like a dream, Now are frolick; not a mouse Shall difturb this hallow'd houfe: I am fent with broom before, To sweep the duft behind the door. 5 Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf BE HOLDS the moon : All with weary task fore-done.] It being the defign of thefe words to characterize the feveral animals, as they prefent themselves at the hour of midnight; and the wolf not being juftly characterized by faying he beholds the moon, which all other beasts of prey then awake do likewife, I make no question but the poet wrote And the wolf BE HOWLS the moon. which is his characteristic property. And further to fupport this emendation we may obferve, that the founds thefe animals emit, at this feason, are plainly intended to be represented. Enter |