Imagini ale paginilor
PDF
ePub

• My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones;

·

·

Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.' Pyr. I see a voice; now will I to the chink, To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face. 'Thisby !'

This. My love! thou art my love, I think.'
Pyr. Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's

grace;

And like Limander am I trusty still."

This.

And I like Helen, till the fates me kill.' Pyr. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.' This. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.' Pyr. O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall.'

This. I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.' Pyr. Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway?"

This.Tide life, tide death, I come without delay.'

Wall. Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so; 'And, being done, thus wall away doth go.'

[Exeunt Wall, Pyramus, and Thisbe. The. Now is the mural down between the two neighbours.

Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wil. ful to hear without warning.

Hip. This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.

The. The best in this kind are but shadows: and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them. Hip. It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.

The. If we imagine no worse of them, than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here comes two noble beasts in, a moon and a lion.

Enter Lion and Moonshine.

Leon. 'You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,

May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. Then know, that I, one Snug the joiner, am 'A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam:

For if I should as lion come in strife
Into this place, 'twere pity on my life.'

The. A very gentle beast and of a good conscience.

Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er

I saw.

Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour. The. Frue; and a goose for his discretion. Dem. Not so, my lord: for his valour cannot carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose.

The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon.

Moon. This lantern doth the horned moon present:'

Dem. He should have worn the horns on his head.

The. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference.

Moon. This lantern doth the horned moon pre

sent; 'Myself the man i' th' moon do seem to be.'

The. This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man should be put into the lantern: How is it else the man i' the moon?

Dem. He dares not come there for the candle: for, you see, it is already in snuff*.

Hip. I am aweary of this moon: Would, he would change!

The. It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is in the wane: but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time.

In anger; a quibble.

Lys. Proceed, moon.

Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you, that the lantern is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn bush; and this dog, my dog.

Dem. Why, all these should be in the lantern; for they are in the moon. But, silence; here comes Thishe.

Enter Thisbe.

·

This. This is old Ninny's tomb: Where is my love?

Lion. Oh-.'

4

[The lion roars.-Thisbe runs off.

Dem. Well roared, lion.

The. Well run, Thisbe.

Hip. Well shone, moon.-Truly, the moon shines with a good grace.

The. Well moused, lion.

[The Lion tears Thisbe's mantle, and exit. Dem. And so comes Pyramus. Lys. And then the moon vanishes.

Enter Pyramus.

Pyr. Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;

'I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright: "For, by thy gracious, golden glittering streams, 'I trust to taste of truest Thisby's sight. 'But stay;-O spite!

But mark :-Poor knight,

What dreadful dole is here?
Eyes, do you see?

O dainty duck! O dear!

Thy mantle good,

What, stain'd with blood?

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small]
[ocr errors]

'Quail, crush, conclude, and quellt! The. This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.

Hip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. Pyr. 'O, wherefore, nature, didst thou lions frame? Since lion vile hath here deflour'd my dear: 'Which is no, no-which was the fairest dame, 'That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheert.

'Come, tears, confound;

'Out, sword, and wound
of Pyramus:

The pap

Ay, that left pap,

'Where heart doth hop:
Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.
'Now am I dead,
'Now am I fled;
'My soul is in the sky:

'Tongue, lose thy light!
'Moon, take thy flight!
'Now, die, die, die, die, die.

[Dies.-Exit Moonshine. Dem. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one. Lys. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing.

The. With the help of a surgeon, he might yet recover, and prove an ass.

Hip. How chance moonshine is gone, before

Thisbe comes back and finds her lover?

The. She will find him by star-light.-Here she

comes; and her passion ends the play.

Enter Thisbe.

Hip. Methinks, she should not use a long one, for such a Pyramus: I hope, she will be brief.

Coarse yarn.

Countenance.

+ Destroy.

Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better.

Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.

Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet.

This. Asleep, my love?

What, dead, my dove?
'O Pyramus, arise,
Speak, speak. Quite dumb?
Dead, dead? A tomb
Must cover thy sweet eyes.
These lily brows,
This cherry nose,
These yellow cowslip cheeks,
Are gone, are gone:
'Lovers, make moan!
His eyes were green as leeks.
'O sisters three,
'Come, come, to me,

With hands as pale as milk;

6

Lay them in gore,

'Since you have shore

With shears his thread of silk.

Tongue, not a word:

6

Come, trusty sword;

Come, blade, my breast imbrue;

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

And farewell, friends;

Thus, Thisby ends:

'Adieu, adieu, adieu.'

[Dies.

The. Moonshine and lion are left to bury the dead.

Dem. Ay, and wall too.

Bot. No, I assure you; the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance, between two of our company?

The. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Never excuse; for when the players are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it had play'd Pyramus, and hanged himself

« ÎnapoiContinuați »