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PinkMonkey.com Digital Library - PinkMonkey.com Digital Library-A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare


Eyes, do you see? How can it he? O dainty duck! O dear!
Thy mantle good, What! stain’d with blood? Approach, ye Furies fell.
O Fates! come, come; Cut thread and thrum; Quail, crush, conclude, and quell.
THESEUS This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man
look sad.

HIPPOLYTA Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.
PYRAMUS O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame? Since lion vile hath here
deflower’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.

Come, tears, confound; Out, sword, and wound The pap of Pyramus; Ay, that left pap,
Where heart doth hop.

[Stabs himself]
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.

[Exit MOONSHINE]
Now die, die, die, die, die.
[Dies]

DEMETRIUS No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one.
LYSANDER Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing.
THESEUS With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover and yet prove an ass.

HIPPOLYTA How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisby comes back
and finds her lover?

Re-enter THISBY
THESEUS She will find him by starlight. Here she comes; and her passion ends the
play.

HIPPOLYTA Methinks she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus; I hope she
will be brief.

DEMETRIUS A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which Thisby, is the better-
he for a man, God warrant us: She for a woman, God bless us!

LYSANDER She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.

DEMETRIUS And thus she moans, videlicet:THISBY 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 lips, 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; Lay them in gore, Since
you have shore With shears his thread of silk.
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PinkMonkey.com Digital Library - PinkMonkey.com Digital Library-A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare



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