A Midsummer Night's Dream Page #7

Well run, Thisbe.

And then came Pyramus.

Sweet moon

I thank thee for thy sunny beams

But stay, oh, spite!

What dreadful dole is here.

Oh, dainty duck. Oh, dear.

Thy mantle good.

What? Stain'd with blood.

Ah, Fates, come, come.

Cut thread and thrum.

Quail, crush, conclude...

And quell!

This passion doth go near

to make a man look sad.

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.

Oh, bless my heart, I pity the man.

Now am I dead.

Now am I fled.

My soul...

is in the sky.

Moon, take thy flight.

Now...

die, die, die, die, die.

Oh.

Asleep, my love?

What, dead, my dove?

Come, Pyramus, arise.

Speak, speak, quite dumb?

Dead? Dead?

A tomb must cover thy sweet eyes.

Oh, 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, trusty sword.

Come, trusty sword.

Sword.

Sword, sword, sword, sword.

Come, trusty sword.

Sword.

Come, trusty sword.

Come...

Come, trusty sword.

Come, blade, my breast in blue, blue.

Come, blade, my breast imbrue.

So farewell, friends, thus Thisbe ends.

Adieu, adieu, adieu.

Oh, this is the silliest stuff

that ever I heard.

Will it please you to see the epilogue?

No, no epilogue, I pray you.

No epilogue.

Or a Bergomask dance

between our company?

Come, your Bergomask.

Through the house, give glimmering light

by the dead and drowsy fire.

Every elf and fairy sprite

hop as light as bird from brier.

Hand in hand with fairy grace

Will we bless this place

And the owner of it blest

Ever shall in

Safety

Rest

Through the house, give glimmering light

By the dead and drowsy fire

Every elf and every sprite

Hop as light as bird from brier

Hop as light as bird from brier

The iron tongue of midnight

hath tolled 12.

Lovers to bed.

'Tis almost fairy time.

I fear we shall outsleep

the coming morn

as much as we this night

have overwatch'd.

Sweet friends, to bed.

A fortnight hold we this solemnity

in nightly revels and new jollity.

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 to dream.

Gentles, do not reprehend,

if you pardon, we will mend.

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!

Rate this script:3.0 / 2 votes