A Midsommer nightes dreame.
21382050Duke. No Epilogue, I pray you. For your Play needs no
21392051excu
se. Neuer excu
se: For when the Players are all deade,
21402052there neede none to be blamed. Mary, if hee that writ it,
21412053had played
Pyramus, and hangd him
selfe in
Thisbies gar
- 21422054ter, it would haue beene a
fine tragedy: and
so it is truely,
21432055and very notably di
scharg'd. But come your Burgoma
ske:
21452057The iron tongue of midnight hath tolde twelue.
21462058Louers to bed, tis almo
st Fairy time.
21472059I feare we
shall out
sleepe the comming morne,
21482060As much as wee this night haue ouerwatcht.
21492061This palpable gro
sse Play hath well beguil'd
21502062The heauie gate of night. Sweete friends, to bed.
21512063A fortnight holde we this
solemnitie,
21522064In nightly Reuels, and new iollity.
Exeunt. 21542066Puck. Now the hungry Lyons roares.
21552067And the wolfe beholds the Moone;
21562068Whil
st the heauie ploughman
snores,
21582070Now the wa
sted brands doe glowe,
21592071Whil
st the
scriech-owle,
scrieching lowd,
21602072Puts the wretch, that lyes in woe,
21632075That the graues, all gaping wide,
21642076Euery one lets forth his
spright,
21652077In the Churchway paths to glide.
21662078And wee Fairies, that doe runne,
21692081Following darkene
sse like a dreame,
21712083Shall di
sturbe this hallowed hou
se.
To