Dut. Me thinkes shee should not vse a long one for such a Piramus: I hope she will be breefe
Dem. A Moth wil turne the ballance, which Piramus which Thisby is the better
Lys. She hath spyed him already, with those sweete eyes
Dem. And thus she meanes, videlicit
This. Asleepe my Loue? What, dead my Doue? O Piramus arise: Speake, speake. Quite dumbe? Dead, dead? A tombe Must couer thy sweet eyes. These Lilly Lips, this cherry nose, These yellow Cowslip cheekes Are gone, are gone: Louers make mone: His eyes were greene as Leekes. O Sisters three, come, come to mee, With hands as pale as Milke, Lay them in gore, since you haue shore with sheeres, his thred of silke. Tongue not a word: Come trusty sword: Come blade, my brest imbrue: And farwell friends, thus Thisbie ends; Adieu, adieu, adieu
Duk. Moone-shine & Lion are left to burie the dead
Deme. I, and Wall too
Bot. No, I assure you, the wall is downe, that parted their Fathers. Will it please you to see the Epilogue, or to heare a Bergomask dance, betweene two of our company? Duk. No Epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Neuer excuse; for when the plaiers are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if hee that writ it had plaid Piramus, and hung himselfe in Thisbies garter, it would haue beene a fine Tragedy: and so it is truely, and very notably discharg'd. but come, your Burgomaske; let your Epilogue alone. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelue. Louers to bed, 'tis almost Fairy time. I feare we shall out-sleepe the comming morne, As much as we this night haue ouer-watcht. This palpable grosse play hath well beguil'd The heauy gate of night. Sweet friends to bed. A fortnight hold we this solemnity. In nightly Reuels; and new iollitie.
Puck. Now the hungry Lyons rores, And the Wolfe beholds the Moone: Whilest the heauy ploughman snores, All with weary taske fore-done. Now the wasted brands doe glow, Whil'st the scritch-owle, scritching loud, Puts the wretch that lies in woe, In remembrance of a shrowd. Now it is the time of night, That the graues, all gaping wide, Euery one lets forth his spright, In the Church-way paths to glide, And we Fairies, that do runne, By the triple Hecates teame, From the presence of the Sunne, Following darkenesse like a dreame, Now are frollicke; not a Mouse Shall disturbe this hallowed house. I am sent with broome before, To sweep the dust behinde the doore. Enter King and Queene of Fairies, with their traine.
Ob. Through the house giue glimmering light, By the dead and drowsie fier, Euerie Elfe and Fairie spright, Hop as light as bird from brier, And this Ditty after me, sing and dance it trippinglie, Tita. First rehearse this song by roate, To each word a warbling note. Hand in hand, with Fairie grace, Will we sing and blesse this place.
Now vntill the breake of day, Through this house each Fairy stray. To the best Bride-bed will we, Which by vs shall blessed be: And the issue there create, Euer shall be fortunate: So shall all the couples three, Euer true in louing be: And the blots of Natures hand, Shall not in their issue stand. Neuer mole, harelip, nor scarre, nor mark prodigious, such as are Despised in Natiuitie, Shall vpon their children be. With this field dew consecrate, Euery Fairy take his gate, And each seuerall chamber blesse, Through this Pallace with sweet peace, Euer shall in safety rest. And the owner of it blest. Trip away, make no stay; Meet me all by breake of day
Robin. If we shadowes haue offended, Thinke but this (and all is mended) That you haue but slumbred heere, While these Visions did appeare. And this weake and idle theame, No more yeelding but a dreame, Gentles, doe not reprehend. If you pardon, we will mend. And as I am an honest Pucke, If we haue vnearned lucke, Now to scape the Serpents tongue, We will make amends ere long: Else the Pucke a lyar call. So good night vnto you all. Giue me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends.
FINIS. A MIDSOMMER Nights Dreame.