Re-enter Lion and Moonshine.
Lion: You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear
The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,
May now perchance both quake and tremble here, 
When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.
Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am
A lion-fell, nor else no lion's dam;
For, if I should as lion come in strife
Into this place, 'twere pity on my life. 
THESEUS: A very gentle beast, and of a good con-
DEMETRIUS: The very best at a beast, my lord, that
e'er I saw.
LYSANDER: This lion is a very fox for his valour. 
THESEUS: True; and a goose for his discretion.
DEMETRIUS: Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot
carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose.
THESEUS: His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his
valour; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well: 
leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon.
Moonshine: This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;--
DEMETRIUS: He should have worn the horns on his
THESEUS: He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible 
within the circumference.
Moonshine: This lanthorn doth the horned 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 lanthorn. 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.
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.
Moonshine: All that I have to say, is, to tell you that 
the lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in the moon;
this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog.
DEMETRIUS: Why, all these should be in the lanthorn;
for all these are in the moon. But, silence! here
comes Thisbe. 
Thisbe: This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love?
Lion: [Roaring] Oh----
[Thisbe runs off.]
DEMETRIUS: Well roared, Lion.
THESEUS: Well run, Thisbe.
HIPPOLYTA: Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon 
shines with a good grace.
[The Lion shakes Thisbe's mantle, and exit.]
THESEUS: Well moused, Lion.
LYSANDER: And so the lion vanished.
DEMETRIUS: And then came Pyramus.
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 Thisby 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! 
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.
Pyramus: O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame?[Stabs himself.]
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:
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:
Now die, die, die, die, die.
DEMETRIUS: No die, but an ace, for him; for he is 
LYSANDER: Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is
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. 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 
DEMETRIUS: And thus she means, videlicet:--
Thisbe: Asleep, my love?[Stabs herself.]
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:
And, farewell, friends;
Thus Thisby ends: 
Adieu, adieu, adieu.
THESEUS: Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the
DEMETRIUS: Ay, and Wall too.
BOTTOM: [Starting up] No, I assure you; the wall is 
down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to
see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask 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 him-
self in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine
tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably dis-
charged. But come, your Bergomask: let your 
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve:
Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time.
I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn
As much as we this night have overwatch'd. 
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.
PUCK: 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, 
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night
That the graves all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite, 
In the church-way paths to glide:
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate's team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream, 
Now are frolic: not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow'd house:
I am sent with broom before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.
Enter OBERON and TITANIA with their train.
OBERON: Through the house give glimmering light, 
By the dead and drowsy fire:
Every elf and fairy sprite
Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty, after me,
Sing, and dance it trippingly. 
TITANIA: First, rehearse your song by rote
To each word a warbling note:
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.
[Song and dance.]
OBERON: Now, until the break of day, 
Through this house each fairy stray.
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be;
And the issue there create
Ever shall be fortunate. 
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be;
And the blots of Nature's hand
Shall not in their issue stand;
Never mole, hare lip, nor scar, 
Nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in nativity,
Shall upon their children be.
With this field-dew consecrate,
Every fairy take his gait; 
And each several chamber bless,
Through this palace, with sweet peace;
And the owner of it blest
Ever shall in safety rest.
Trip away; make no stay; 
Meet me all by break of day.
[Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and train.]
PUCK: If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear. 
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
If you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck, 
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpentıs tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all. 
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.