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This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name, The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, Did scare away, or rather did affright; And as she fled, her mantle she did fall; Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain. Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall, And finds his trusty Thisby’s mantle slain; Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade, He bravely broach’d his boiling bloody breast; And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade, His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain, At large discourse while here they do remain. Exeunt PROLOGUE, PYRAMUS, THISBY, LION, and MOONSHINE THESEUS I wonder if the lion be to speak. DEMETRIUS No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses do. WALL In this same interlude it doth befall That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; And such a wall as I would have you think That had in it a crannied hole or chink, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, Did whisper often very secretly. This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show That I am that same wall; the truth is so; And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper. THESEUS Would you desire lime and hair to speak better? DEMETRIUS It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord. Enter PYRAMUS THESEUS Pyramus draws near the wall; silence. PYRAMUS O grim-look’d night! O night with hue so black! O night, which ever art when day is not! O night, O night, alack, alack, alack, I fear my Thisby’s promise is forgot! And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, That stand’st between her father’s ground and mine; Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne. [WALL holds up his fingers] Thanks, courteous wall. Jove shield thee well for this! But what see what see I? No Thisby do I see. O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss, Curs’d he thy stones for thus deceiving me! THESEUS The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again. PYRAMUS No, in truth, sir, he should not. Deceiving me is Thisby’s cue. She is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the wall. You shall see it will fall pat as I told you; yonder she comes. Enter THISBY THISBY O wall, full often hast thou beard my moans, For parting my fair Pyramus and me! |