STARVELING (as Moonshine) This lantern doth the hornèd moon present.

DEMETRIUS He should have worn the horns on his head.

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

STARVELING (as Moonshine)

This lantern doth the hornèd moon present.

Myself the man i’th’ moon do seem to be.

THESEUS This is the greatest error of all the rest—the man should be put into the lantern. How is it else the man i’th’ moon?

DEMETRIUS He dares not come there for the candle; for you see it is already in snuff.

HIPPOLYTA I am aweary of this moon. Would he would change.

THESEUS 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.

LYSANDER Proceed, Moon.

STARVELING All that I have to say is to tell you that the lantern is the moon, I the man i’th’ moon, this thorn bush my thorn bush, and this dog my dog.

DEMETRIUS Why, all these should be in the lantern, for all these are in the moon. But silence; here comes Thisbe.

Enter Flute as Thisbe

FLUTE (as Thisbe)

This is old Ninny’s tomb. Where is my love?

SNUG (as Lion) O.

Lion roars. Thisbe drops her mantle and runs off

DEMETRIUS Well roared, Lion.

THESEUS Well run, Thisbe.

HIPPOLYTA Well shone, Moon.—Truly, the moon shines with a good grace.

Lion worries Thisbe’s mantle

THESEUS Well moused, Lion.

DEMETRIUS And then came Pyramus.

⌈Enter Bottom as Pyramus⌉

LYSANDER And so the lion vanished. ⌈Exit Lion⌉

BOTTOM (as Pyramus)

Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams.

I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright;

For by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams

I trust to take of truest Thisbe sight.

But stay, O spite!

But mark, poor knight,

What dreadful dole is here?

Eyes, do you see?

How can it be?

O dainty duck, O dear!

Thy mantle good,

What, stained 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.

BOTTOM (as Pyramus)

O wherefore, nature, didst thou lions frame,

Since lion vile hath here deflowered my dear?—

Which is—no, no, which was—the fairest dame

That lived, that loved, that liked, that looked, with

cheer.

Come tears, confound;

Out sword, and wound

The pap of Pyramus.

Ay, that left pap,

Where heart doth hop.

Thus die I: thus, thus, thus.

He stabs himself

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. He 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 prove an ass.

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

THESEUS She will find him by starlight.

⌈Enter Flute as Thisbe⌉

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 Thisbe, 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 means, videlicet:

FLUTE (as Thisbe)

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.

Tongue, not a word.

Come, trusty sword,

Come, blade, my breast imbrue.

She stabs herself

And farewell friends,

Thus Thisbe ends.

Adieu, adieu, adieu. She dies

THESEUS Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead.

DEMETRIUS Ay, and Wall too.

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

THESEUS 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 played Pyramus and hanged himself in Thisbe’s garter it would have been a fine tragedy; and so it is, truly, and very notably discharged. But come, your bergamask. Let your epilogue alone.

⌈Bottom and Flute⌉ dance a bergamask, then exeunt

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve. Lovers, to bed; ’tis almost fairy time. I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn As much as we this night have overwatched. This palpable-gross play hath well beguiled The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed. A fortnight hold we this solemnity In nightly revels and new jollity. Exeunt

5.2 Enter Robin Goodfellow with a broom

ROBIN

Now the hungry lion roars,

And the wolf behowls the moon,

Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,

All with weary task fordone.

Now the wasted brands do glow

Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,