Lyf. This lion is a very fox for his valour. Dem. Not fo, my lord: for his valour cannot carry his difcretion; and the fox carries the goose. The. His discretion, I am fure, cannot carry his valour; for the goofe carries not the fox. It is well his discretion, and let us liften to the moon. leave it to Moon. "This lanthorn doth the horned moon prefent:" Dem. He fhould have worn the horns on his head. The. He is no crefcent, and his horns are invifible within the circumference. Moon. "This lanthorn doth the horned moon present ; "Myself the man i'th'moon do feem to be." The. This is the greatest error of all the reft: the man fhould be put into the lanthorn; How is it else the man i'the moon? Dem. He dares not come there for the candle: for, you fee, 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. 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 thornbufh, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog. Dem. Why, all these fhould be in the lanthorn; for they are in the moon. But, filence; here comes Thisbe. in fnuff.]—(quibble) a pet, and the cinder of a candle. "Took it in fnuff." HENRY IV, Part 1, A&t I, S. 3. Hot. Enter Enter Thibe. Thif. "This is old Ninny's tomb: Where is Lion. "Oh-" Dem. Well roar'd, lion. The. Well run, Thisbe. my love?" [The Lion roars. Thisbe runs off. Hip. Well fhone, moon.-Truly, the moon fhines with a good grace. The. Well "mous'd, lion. Dem. And then came Pyramus. Lys. And fo the lion vanish'd. Pyr. "Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy funny beams; "I thank thee, moon, for fhining now fo bright: "For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering streams, I truft to taste of trueft Thisby's fight. "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 dear! "What, ftain'd with blood? Approach, ye furies fell! "O fates! come, come; n "Cut thread and " thrum; P "Quail, crush, conclude, and ' quell!" The. This paffion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad. Hip. Befhrew my heart, but I pity the man. Pyr. "O, wherefore, nature, didft 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 "cheer. "Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. "Now am I dead, "Now am I fled; My foul is in the sky: Tongue, lofe 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. Lyf. Lefs than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing. and The. With the help of a furgeon, he might yet recover, prove an ass. Hip. How chance the moonshine is gone, before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover? The. She will find him by ftar-light. Enter Thibe. Here she comes, and her paffion ends the play. Hip. Methinks, she should 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. Lyf. She hath spied him already, with those sweet eyes. 9 Sunne. г mote. Dem. Dem. And thus fhe moans, videlicet. Thif. "Afleep, my love? "What, dead, my dove? "O Pyramus, arise, cr Speak, fpeak. Quite dumb? "Dead, dead? A tomb "Muft cover thy fweet eyes. "Thefe lilly brows, "This cherry nose, "Thefe yellow cowflip cheeks, "Are gone, are gone: Lovers, make moan! "His eyes were green as leeks. "Come, come, to me, "Since you have shore "With fhears his thread of filk. The. Moonshine and lion are left to bury the dead. Dem. Ay, and wall too. [Dies. 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? "His eyes were green as leeks.- ROMEO AND JULIET, A& III, S. 5. Nurfe. The. and let 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 hang'd himself in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine tragedy: and fo it is, truly; very notably discharg'd. But come, your Bergomask: your epilogue alone. [Here a dance of Clowns. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve :Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. I fear we shall out-fleep the coming morn, As much as we this night have overwatch'd. This palpable-grofs play hath well beguil'd The 'heavy gait of night.-Sweet friends, to bed.A fortnight hold we this folemnity, In nightly revels, and new jollity. X SCENE II. Enter Puck. x Puck. Now the hungry lion roars, That the graves, all gaping wide, beavy gait]-flow progress, course. fordone.]-o'er-powered. [Exeunt. w beholds. y brands]-embers. And |