A Midsommer nightes dreame.
21012015Lys. Le
sse then an ace, man. For he is dead, he is nothing.
21032016Duke. With the helpe of a Surgeon, he might yet reco
- 21052018Dut. How chance Moone-
shine is gone before?
Thisby 21062019comes backe, and
findes her louer.
21082020Duk. Shee will
finde him, by
starre-light. Here
shee
21092021comes, and her pa
ssion ends the Play.
21102022Dut. Me thinkes,
she
should not v
se a long one, for
such
21112023a
Pyramus: I hope,
she will be briefe.
21122024Demet. A moth will turne the ballance; which
Pyramus,
21132025which
Thisby is the better: he for a man; God warnd vs:
2026she, for a woman; God ble
sse vs.
21142027Lys. She hath
spied him already, with tho
se
sweete eyes.
21152028Deme. And thus
she meanes,
videlicet;
21162029This. A
sleepe my loue? What, dead my doue?
21182031Speake,
speake. Quite dumbe? Dead, dead? A tumbe
21202033The
se lilly lippes, this cherry no
se,
21222035Are gon, are gon: louers make mone:
21232036His eyes were greene, as leekes.
21242037O
sisters three, come, come, to mee,
21262039Lay them in gore,
since you haue
shore
21272040With
sheeres, his threede of
silke.
21282041Tongue, not a word: come tru
sty
sword,
21302043And farewell friends: thus
Thysby ends:
21322045Duke. Moone-shine and
Lyon are left to bury the dead.
21342047Lyon. No, I a
ssure you, the wall is downe, that parted
21352048their fathers. Will it plea
se you, to
see the Epilogue, or to
21362049heare a Bergoma
ske daunce, between two of our
cōpany?
Duke