Midsummer Night's Dream

Bottom (as Pyramus)

Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace,
And like Lemander am I trusty still.

Flute (as Thisbe)

And I, like Helen, till the fates me kill.

Bottom (as Pyramus)

Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.

Flute (as Thisbe)

As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.

Bottom (as Pyramus)

O kiss me through the hole of this vile wall.

Flute (as Thisbe)

I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.

Bottom (as Pyramus)

I see a voice. Now will I to the chink
To spy an I can hear my Thisbe's face.
Thisbe?

Flute (as Thisbe)

               My love — thou art my love, I think.

Bottom (as Pyramus)

Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace,
And like Lemander am I trusty still.

Flute (as Thisbe)

And I, like Helen, till the fates me kill.

Bottom (as Pyramus)

Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.

Flute (as Thisbe)

As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.

Bottom (as Pyramus)

I see a voice. Now will I to the chink
To spy an I can hear my Thisbe's face.
Thisbe?

Flute (as Thisbe)

               My love — thou art my love, I think.

Bottom (as Pyramus)

Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace,
And like Lemander am I trusty still.

Flute (as Thisbe)

And I, like Helen, till the fates me kill.

Bottom (as Pyramus)

Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.

Flute (as Thisbe)

As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.

Snout (as 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 Thisbe
Did whisper often, very secretly.
This loam, this roughcast, 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.

Quince (as Prologue)

Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show,
But wonder on till truth make all things plain.
This man is Pyramus, if you would know,
This beauteous lady Thisbe is, certain.
This man with lime and roughcast doth present
Wall, that vile wall which did these lovers sunder;
And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they are content
To whisper; at the which let no man wonder.
This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn,
Presenteth Moonshine. For if you will know,
By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn
To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.
This grizzly beast – which “Lion” hight by name –
The trusty Thisbe 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 Thisbe's mantle slain;
Whereat, with blade — with bloody blameful blade —
He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast;
And Thisbe, 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.
[Exit all the actors except Snout as Wall]

Theseus

I wonder if the lion be to speak.

Quince (as Prologue)

Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show,
But wonder on till truth make all things plain.
This man is Pyramus, if you would know,
This beauteous lady Thisbe is, certain.
This man with lime and roughcast doth present
Wall, that vile wall which did these lovers sunder;
And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they are content
To whisper; at the which let no man wonder.
This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn,
Presenteth Moonshine. For if you will know,
By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn
To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.
This grizzly beast – which “Lion” hight by name –
The trusty Thisbe 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 Thisbe's mantle slain;
Whereat, with blade — with bloody blameful blade —
He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast;
And Thisbe, 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.

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