This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man should be put into the lanthorn. How is it else the man i’ the moon?
He dares not come there for the candle; for, you see, it is already in snuff.
I am aweary of this moon: would he would change!
It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is on the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time.
All that I have to say is to tell you that the lanthorn is the moon; I, the man i’ the moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog.
Why, all these should be in the lantern; for all these are in the moon. But, silence! here comes Thisbe.
This is old Ninny’s tomb. Where is my love?
Well shone, Moon. Truly the moon shines with a good grace.
(_The Lion shakes Thisbe’s mantle, and exit._)
Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams; I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright; For, by thy gravious, golde, glittering gleams, I trust to take of truest Thisby’s 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, stain’d with blood! Approach, ye Furies fell! O Fates, come, come, Cut thread and thrum; Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!
This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.
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 lived, that loved, that liked, 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._)
No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one.
Less than an ace, man, for he is dead; he is nothing.
With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover, and prove an ass.
How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover?
She will find him by starlight. Here she comes; and her passion ends the play.
Methinks she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus. I hope she will be brief.