21012015Lys. Lesse then an ace, man. For he is dead, he is nothing.

21032016Duke. With the helpe of a Surgeon, he might yet reco-

21042017uer, and yet prooue an Asse.

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 passion ends the Play.

21102022Dut. Me thinkes, she should not vse 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 blesse vs.

21142027Lys. She hath spied him already, with those sweete eyes.

21152028Deme. And thus she meanes, videlicet;

21162029This. A sleepe my loue? What, dead my doue?

21172030O Pyramus, arise,

21182031Speake, speake. Quite dumbe? Dead, dead? A tumbe

21192032Must couer thy sweete eyes.

21202033These lilly lippes, this cherry nose,

21212034These yellow cowslippe cheekes

21222035Are gon, are gon: louers make mone:

21232036His eyes were greene, as leekes.

21242037O sisters three, come, come, to mee,

21252038With hands as pale as milke,

21262039Lay them in gore, since you haue shore

21272040With sheeres, his threede of silke.

21282041Tongue, not a word: come trusty sword,

21292042Come blade, my breast imbrew:

21302043And farewell friends: thus Thysby ends:

21312044Adieu, adieu, adieu.

21322045Duke. Moone-shine and Lyon are left to bury the dead.

21332046Deme. I, and Wall to.

21342047Lyon. No, I assure you, the wall is downe, that parted

21352048their fathers. Will it please you, to see the Epilogue, or to

21362049heare a Bergomaske daunce, between two of our cōpany?