Bottom their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a bergamask dance between two of our company? [Bottom and Flute stand up] 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. Read more about Act 5, Scene 1: Popup Note Index Item: Epilogue
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. Read more about Act 5, Scene 1: Popup Note Index Item: “sisters three”
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. [Seeing Thisbe's bloody cloak on the ground] But stay! O spite! But mark, poor night, 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. Read more about Act 5, Scene 1: Popup Note Index Item: The Fates
Snug (as Lion) [Roaring] Ooooo. [Thisbe drops her cloak and runs off] Demetrius Well roared, Lion. Theseus Well run, Thisbe. Hippolyta Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with a good grace. [Lion chews Thisbe’s cloak] Theseus Well moused, Lion. Read more about Act 5, Scene 1: Popup Note Index Item: “Well moused, Lion.”
Theseus It appears by his small light of discretion that he is in the wane. But yet in courtesy, in all reason, we Read more about Act 5, Scene 1: Popup Note Index Item: “light of discretion”
Starveling (as Moonshine) This lantern doth the hornèd moon present, Myself the man i' the 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' the moon"? Demetrius He dares not come there for the candle; for you see it is already in snuff. Read more about Act 5, Scene 1: Popup Note Index Item: “already in snuff”
Bottom (as Pyramus) And like Lemander am I trusty still. Flute (as Thisbe) And I, like Helen, till the fates me kill. Read more about Act 5, Scene 1: Popup Note Index Item: “Lemander” and “Helen”
Bottom (as Pyramus) O grim-looked night, O night with hue so black, O night which ever art when day is not, O night, O night, alack, alack, alack, I fear my Thisbe's promise is forgot. And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall That stand'st between her father's ground and mine, Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne. [Snout, as Wall, indicates the slit with his hand] Thanks, courteous wall. Jove shield thee well for this. But what see I? No Thisbe do I see. O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss, Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me. Read more about Act 5, Scene 1: Popup Note Index Item: “alack”
Theseus Come now, what masques, what dances shall we have To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper and bedtime? Where is our usual manager of mirth? What revels are in hand? Is there no play To ease the anguish of a torturing hour? Call Philostrate. Read more about Act 5, Scene 1: Popup Note Index Item: “manager of mirth”
Bottom My next is, “most fair Pyramus.” Heigh-ho. Peter Quince? Flute the bellows-mender? Snout the tinker? Starveling? God's my life! Stolen hence, and left me asleep? I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream past the wit of man to say what dream it was. Man is but an ass if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was — there is no man can tell what methought I was and methought I had — but man is but a patched fool if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream. It shall be called “Bottom's Dream,” because it hath no bottom, and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the Duke. Peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death. [Exit Bottom] Read more about Act 4, Scene 1: Popup Note Index Item: “hath no bottom”