Midsummer Night's Dream

Theseus

No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no
excuse. Never excuse, for when the players are all dead
there needs 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 exit]
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.

Theseus

No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no
excuse. Never excuse, for when the players are all dead
there needs 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 exit]
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.

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.

Bottom (as Pyramus)

O wherefore, nature, didst thou lions frame,
Since lion vile hath here deflowered my dear? —
Which is —
[Bottom is subtly interrupted by Quince who mouths something to him]
                    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.

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