A Midsommer nightes dreame.
20681982Dutchesse. Well
shone
Moone. Truly, the Moone
shines,
20741988Pyr. Sweete Moone, I thanke thee, for thy
sunny beams.
20751989I thanke thee, Moone, for
shining now
so bright.
20761990For by thy gratious, golden, glittering beames,
20771991I tru
st to take of true
st Thisby sight.
20781992But
stay: ?
spight! but marke, poore knight,
20801994Eyes do you
see! How can it bee!
20821996Thy mantle good, what,
staind with blood?
20841998O fates come, come, cut thread and thrumme,
20851999Quaile, cru
sh, conclude, and quell.
20862000Duke. This pa
ssion, & the death of a deare friend would
20872001goe neere to make a man looke
sad.
20882002Dutch. Be
shrewe my heart, but I pitty the man.
20892003Pyr. O, wherefore, Nature, did
st thou Lyons frame?
20902004Since Lyon vilde hath here de
flour'd my deare.
20912005Which is, no, no: which was the faire
st dame
20922006That liu'd, that lou'd, that lik't, that look't with cheere.
20932007Come teares, confound, out
sword, and wound
20952009I, that left pappe, where heart doth hoppe.
20972011Now am I dead, now am I
fled, my
soule is in the
sky.
20982012Tongue loo
se thy light, Moone take thy
flight,
21002014Dem. No Die, but an ace for him. For he is but one.
Lys.