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Lys. He goes before me, and still dares me on;
When I come where he calls, then he is gone.
The villain is much lighter heel'd than I:
I follow'd fast, but faster he did fly;
That fallen am I in dark uneven way,
And here will rest me. Come, thou gentle day!
[Lies down.

For if but once thou show me thy grey light,
I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this spite. [Sleeps.
Re-enter Puck and Demetrius.

Puck. Ho, ho ho, ho! Coward, why com'st
thou not?

Dem. Abide me, if thou dar'st; for well I wot, Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place; And dar'st not stand, nor look me in the face. Where art thou?


Come hither; I am here.

Dem. Nay, then thou mock'st me. Thou shalt
buy this dear,

If ever I thy face by day-light see:
Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me
To measure out my length on this cold bed.-
By day's approach look to be visited.

[Lies down and sleeps.
Enter Helena.

Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night, Abate thy hours: shine, comforts, from the east;

That I may back to Athens, by day-light,

From these that my poor company detest :-
And, sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye,
Steal me awhile from mine own company. [Sleeps.

Puck. Yet but three? Come one more ;
Two of both kinds makes up four.
Here she comes, curst and sad :-
Cupid is a knavish lad,

Thus to make poor females mad.

Enter Hermia.

Her. Never so weary, never so in woe,

Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with briers;

I can no further crawl, no further go;

My legs can keep no pace with my desires. Here will I rest me, till the break of day. Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray!

Puck. On the ground

I'll apply

Sleep sound:

To your eye,

Gentle lover, remedy.

[Lies down.

The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well.

[Exit Puck.-Dem. Hel. &c. sleep.


SCENE 1.-The same.

Enter Titania and Bottom, Fairies attending;
Oberon behind unseen.

Tita. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed,
While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,

And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head,
And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.
Bot. Where's Peas-blossom?

Peas. Ready.

Bot. Scratch my head, Peas-blossom.-Where's monsieur Cobweb?

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Bot. Truly, a peck of provender; I could munch your good dry oats. Methinks, I have a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.

Tita. I have a venturous fairy that shall seek The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts.

Bot. I had rather have a handful, or two, of dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me; I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. Tita. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away.

So doth the woodbine, the sweet honeysuckle,
Gently entwist,-the female ivy so
Enrings the barky fingers of the elm.

O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee!

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Obe. Welcome, good Robin. See'st thou this
sweet sight?

Her dotage now I do begin to pity.
For meeting her of late, behind the wood,
Seeking sweet savours for this hateful fool,
I did upbraid her, and fall out with her :
For she his hairy temples then had rounded
With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers;
And that same dew, which sometime on the buds

[Squeezing the juice on Lysander's eye. Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls,

When thou wak'st,

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Stood now within the pretty flourets' eyes,
Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail.
When I had, at my pleasure, taunted her,
And she, in mild terms, begg'd my patience,

I then did ask of her her changeling child;
Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent
To bear him to my bower in fairy land.
And now I have the boy, I will undo
This hateful imperfection of her eyes.
And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp

From off the head of this Athenian swain;
That he awaking when the other do,
May all to Athens back again repair;
And think no more of this night's accidents,
But as the fierce vexation of a dream.
But first I will release the fairy queen.
Be, as thou wast wont to be;

[Touching her eyes with an herb.

See, as thou wast wont to see:
Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower

Hath such force and blessed power.
Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen.
Tita. My Oberon! what visions have I seen!
Methought I was enamour'd of an ass.

Obe. There lies your love.
How came these things to pass?
O, how mine eyes do loath his visage now!
Obe. Silence, a while.-Robin, take off this

Titania, musick call; and strike more dead
Than common sleep, of all these five the sense.
Tita. Musick, ho! musick; such as charmeth

Puck. Now, when thou wak'st, with thine own fool's eyes peep.

Obe. Sound, musick. [Still musick.] Come, my queen, take hands with me,

And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be,
Now thou and I are new in amity;

And will, to-morrow midnight, solemnly,
Dance in duke Theseus' house triumphantly,
And bless it to all fair posterity:
There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.

Puck. Fairy king, attend, and mark;
I do hear the morning lark.
Obe. Then, my queen, in silence sad,
Trip we after the night's shade:
We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wand'ring moon.
Tita. Come, my lord; and in our flight,
Tell me how it came this night,
That I sleeping here was found,
With these mortals, on the ground. [Exeunt.
[Horns sound within.
Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, and train.
The. Go, one of you, find out the forester ;-
For now, our observation is perform'd;
And since we have the vaward of the day,
My love shall hear the musick of my hounds.-
Uncouple in the western valley; go :-
Despatch, I say, and find the forester.-
We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top,
And mark the musical confusion
Of hounds and echo in conjunction.

Hip. I was with Hercules, and Cadmus, once,
When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear
With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear
Such gallant chiding; for, besides the groves,
The skies, the fountains, every region near
Seem'd all one mutual cry: I never heard
So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.

The. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
So flew'd, so sanded; and their heads are hung
With ears that sweep away the morning dew;
Crook-knee'd and dew-lap'd like Thessalian bulls;
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells,
Each under each. A cry more tuneable
Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn,
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly :
Judge, when you hear. But, soft; what nymphs
are these?

Ege. My lord, this is my daughter here asleep;
And this, Lysander; this Demetrius is;
This Helena, old Nedar's Helena:
I wonder of their being here together.

The. No doubt, they rose up early, to observe
The rite of May; and, hearing our intent,
Came here in grace of our solemnity.--
But, speak, Egeus; is not this the day
That Hermia should give answer of her choice?

Ege. It is, my lord.

The. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns.

Horns, and shout within. Demetrius, Lysander, Hermia, and Helena, wake and start up.

The. Good-morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past; Begin these wood-birds but to couple now? Lys. Pardon, my lord.


[He and the rest kneel to Theseus.
I pray you all, stand up.

I know, you are two rival enemies;
How comes this gentle concord in the world,
That hatred is so far from jealousy,
To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity?

Lys. My lord, I shall reply amazedly,
Half 'sleep, half waking: But as yet, I swear,
I cannot truly say how I came here :
But, as I think, (for truly would I speak,-
And now I do bethink me, so it is ;)
I came with Hermia hither: our intent
Was, to be gone from Athens, where we might be
Without the peril of the Athenian law.


Ege. Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough: I beg the law, the law upon his head.They would have stol'n away, they would, DemeThereby to have defeated you and me: You, of your wife; and me, of my consent; Of my consent that she should be your wife. Dem. My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth, Of this their purpose hither, to this wood; And I in fury hither follow'd them; Fair Helena in fancy following me. But, my good lord, I wot not by what power, (But, by some power it is,) my love to Hermia, Melted as doth the snow, seems to me now As the remembrance of an idle gawd, Which in my childhood I did dote upon: And all the faith, the virtue of my heart, The object, and the pleasure of mine eye, Is only Helena. To her, my lord, Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia: But, like in sickness, did I loath this food: But, as in health, come to my natural taste, Now do I wish it, love it, long for it, And will for evermore be true to it.

The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met:
Of this discourse we more will hear anon.-
Egeus, I will overbear your will;

For in the temple, by and by with us,
These couples shall eternally be knit.
And, for the morning now is something worn,
Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside.-
Away, with us, to Athens: Three and three,
We'll hold a feast in great solemnity.-
Come, Hippolyta.

[Exeunt Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, and train. Dem. These things seem small and undistinguishable,

Like far-off' mountains turned into clouds.
Her. Methinks, I see these things with parted eye,
When every thing seems double.

So, methinks:
And I have found Demetrius like a jewel,
Mine own, and not mine own.

Dem. It seems to me, That yet we sleep, we dream.-Do not you think, The duke was here, and bid us follow him? Her. Yea; and my father. Hel.

And Hippolyta. Lys. And he did bid us follow to the temple. Dem. Why then, we are awake: let's follow him; And, by the way, let us recount our dreams.

As they go out, Bottom awakes.


Bot. When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer :-my next is, Most fair Pyramus.Hey, ho-Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's my life! stolen hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare

vision. I have had a dream,-past the wit of man | Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, to say what dream it was:-Man is but an ass, if he Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend go about to expound this dream. Methought I was there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, and methought I had,-But man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen; man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the duke: Peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death. [Exit. SCENE 11.-Athens. A Room in Quince's House. Enter Quince, Flute, Snout, and Starveling. Quin. Have you sent to Bottom's house? is he come home yet?

Star. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt, he is transported.

Flu. If he come not, then the play is marred; It goes not forward, doth it?

Quin. It is not possible: you have not a man in all Athens, able to discharge Pyramus, but he. Flu. No; he hath simply the best wit of any handycraft man in Athens.


Quin. Yea, and the best person too: and he is very paramour, for a sweet voice. Flu. You must say, paragon: a paramour is, God bless us, a thing of nought.

Enter Snug.

Snug. Masters, the duke is coming from the temple, and there is two or three lords and ladies more married: if our sport had gone forward, we had all been made men.

Flu. O sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost sixpence a-day during his life; he could not have 'scaped sixpence a-day: an the duke had not given him sixpence a-day for playing Pyramus, I'll be hanged; he would have deserved it: sixpence a-day, in Pyramus, or nothing.

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fell out.

Quin. Let us hear, sweet Bottom.

Bot. Not a word of me. All that I will tell you, is, that the duke hath dined: Get your apparel together; good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your pumps; meet presently at the palace; every man look o'er his part; for, the short and the long is, our play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby have clean linen; and let not him, that plays the lion, pare his nails, for they shall hang out for the lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions, nor garlick, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not doubt, but to hear them say, it is a sweet comedy. No more words; away; go, away. [Exeunt.

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More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatick, the lover, and the poet,
Are of imagination all compact:
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold;
That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantick,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to
And, as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation, and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination;
That, if it would but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Or, in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear?

Hip. But all the story of the night told over,
And all their minds transfigured so together,
More witnesseth than fancy's images,
But, howsoever, strange, and admirable.
And grows to something of great constancy;

Enter Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena.
The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and

Joy, gentle friends! joy, and fresh days of love,
Accompany your hearts!

More than to us

Wait on your royal walks, your board, your bed!

The. Come now; what masks, what dances shall
we have,

To wear away this long age of three hours,
Between our after-supper and bed-time?
Where is our usual manager of mirth?
What revels are in hand? Is there no play,
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?

Call Philostrate.

Here, mighty Theseus.
The. Say, what abridgment have you for this
What mask, what musick? How shall we beguile
The lazy time, if not with some delight?


Philost. There is a brief, how many sports are Make choice of which your highness will see first. [Giving a paper.

The. [reads.] The battle with the Centaurs, to
be sung,

By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.
We'll none of that: that have I told my love,
In glory of my kinsman Hercules.

The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
That is an old device, and it was play'd
Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
That is some satire, keen, and critical,
Of learning, late deceas'd in beggary.
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.

A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus,
And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth.
Merry and tragical? Tedious and brief?
That is, hot ice, and wonderous strange snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord?
Philost. A play there is, my lord, some ten words

Which is as brief as I have known a play;
But by ten words, my lord, it is too long,
Which makes it tedious: for in all the play
There is not one word apt, one player fitted.
And tragical, my noble lord, it is;
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
Which when I saw rehears'd, I must confess

Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears

The passion of loud laughter never shed.
The. What are they that do play it ?

Philost. Hard-handed men, that work in Athens


Which never labour'd in their minds till now;

And now have toil'd their unbreath'd memories
With this same play, against your nuptial.
The. And we will hear it.


"Did scare away, or rather did affright.
"And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall;
"Which lion vile with bloody mouth did stain:
"Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth, and tall,
"And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain :
"Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
"He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast;
And, Thisby tarrying in mulberry shade,
"His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,
"Let lion, moon-shine, wall, and lovers twain,
"At large discourse, while here they do remain."
[Exeunt Prol. Thisbe, Lion, and Moon-shine.
The. I wonder, if the lion be to speak.
Dem. No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when
many asses do.

No, my noble lord,
It is not for you: I have heard it over,
And it is nothing, nothing in the world;
Unless you can find sport in their intents,
Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain,"
To do you service.
I will hear that play;
For never any thing can be amiss,
When simpleness and duty tender it.
Go, bring them in: and take your places, ladies.
[Exit Philostrate.
Hip. I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharged,
And duty in his service perishing.
The. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such
Hip. He says, they can do nothing in this kind.
The. The kinder we, to give them thanks for

Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake:
And what poor duty cannot do,

Noble respect takes it in might, not merit.
Where I have come, great clerks have purposed
To greet me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears,
And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off,
Not paying me a welcome: Trust me, sweet,
Out of this silence, yet, I pick'd a welcome;
And in the modesty of fearful duty

I read as much, as from the rattling tongue
Of sawcy and audacious eloquence.
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity,
In least, speak most, to my capacity.

Enter Philostrate.

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Philost. So please your grace, the prologue is addrest.

The. Let him approach.

Wall." In this same interlude, it doth befall, "That I, one Snout by name, present a wall: "And such a wall as I would have you think, "That had in it a cranny'd hole, or chink, "Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, "Did whisper often very secretly. [show "This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth "That I am that same wall; the truth is so: "And this the cranny is, right and sinister, "Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper." The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?

Dem. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord.

The. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence!

Enter Pyramus.

Pyr. "O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black!

"O night, which ever art, when day is not! "O night, O night, alack, alack, alack, "I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot!-"And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, "That stand'st between her father's ground and mine ;

[Flourish of trumpets."

Enter Prologue.

Prol. If we offend, it is with our good will. That you should think, we come not to offend, But with good will. To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Consider then, we come but in despite.

We do not come as minding to content you,

Our true intent is. All for your delight,

Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, "Shew me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne. [Wall holds up his fingers. "Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well "But what see I? No Thisbe do I see. [for this! "O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss; "Curst be thy stones for thus deceiving me!"

The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.

Pyr. No, in truth, sir, he should not. Deceiving

We are not here. That you should here repent you, me, is Thisby's cue: she is to enter now, and I am

The actors are at hand; and, by their show,

to spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will fall pat as I told you :-Yonder she comes.

You shall know all, that you are like to know.
The. This fellow doth not stand upon points.
Lys. He hath rid his prologue, like a rough colt;
he knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord: It
is not enough to speak, but to speak true.
Hip. Indeed he hath played on this prologue,"
like a child on a recorder; a sound, but not in

The. His speech was like a tangled chain; no-
thing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?"
Enter Pyramus and Thisbe, Wall, Moonshine, and
Lion, as in dumb show.

Prol. "Gentles, perchance, you wonder at this show;

"But wonder on, till truth make all things plain. "This man is Pyramus, if you would know; "This beauteous lady Thisby is, certain. "This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present "Wall, that vile wall which did these lovers sunder:

"And through wall's chink, poor souls, they are


Enter Thisbe.

This. "O wall, full often hast thou heard my
"For parting my fair Pyramus and me: [moans,
My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones;
"Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee."
Pyr. "I see a voice: now will I to the chink,
"To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face.
Thisby !"

This. My love! thou art my love, I think." Pyr. "Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's "And like Limander am I trusty still." [grace;

This. "And I like Helen, till the fates me kill."
Pyr. "Not Shafalus to Procrus, was so true."
This. "As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you."
Pyr. "O, kiss me through the hole of this vile

This. "I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all."
Pyr. "Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me
straightway ?"

This. "Tide life, tide death, I come without
Wall. "Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so;
And, being done, thus wall away doth go."

[Exeunt Wall, Pyramus, and Thisbe.
The. Now is the mural down between the two
Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so
wilful to hear without warning.

"To whisper, at the which let no man wonder." "This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn, "Presenteth moon-shine: for, if you will know, "By moon-shine did these lovers think no scorn "To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. "This grisly beast, which by name lion hight, "The trusty Thisby, coming first by night,

Hip. This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.

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"When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. "Then know, that I, one Snug, the joiner, am "A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam: "For if I should as lion c me in strife "Into this place, 'twere pity on my life."

The. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw.

Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour. The. True; and a goose for his discretion. Dem. Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose.

The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon.

Moon. "This lantern doth the horned moon present;"

Dem. He should have worn the horns on his head. The. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference.

Moon. "This lantern doth the horned present;


"Myself the man i'th'moon do seem to be." The. This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man should be put into the lantern: How is it else the man i'the moon.

Dem. He dares not come there for the candle: for, you see, it is already in snuff.

Hip. I am aweary of this moon: Would, he would change!

The. It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is in the wane: but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time.

Lys. Proceed, moon.

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"Eyes, do you see? "How can it be? "O dainty duck! O dear! "Thy mantle good, "What, stain'd with blood? "Approach, ye furies fell! "O fates! come, come;

"Cut thread and thrum;

"Quail, crush, conclude, and quell !" The. This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.

Hip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. Pyr. "O, wherefore, nature, didst thou lions frame?

"Since lion vile hath here deflour'd my dear: « Which is no, no-which was the fairest dame, "That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheer.

"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.
"Now am I dead,
"Now am I fled;

"My soul is in the sky :

"Tongue, lose thy light! "Moon, take thy flight! "Now die, die, die, die, die."

[Dies.-Exit Moonshine. Dem. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but


Lys. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing.

The. With the help of a surgeon, he might yet recover, and prove an ass.

Hip. How chance moonshine is gone, before Thishe comes back and finds her lover?

The. She will find him by star-light.-Here she comes; and her passion ends the play.

Enter Thisbe.

Hip. Methinks, she should not use a long one, for such a Pyramus: I hope, she will be brief. Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better.

Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.

Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet.
This. "Asleep, my love?

"What, dead, my dove?

"O Pyramus, arise,

"Speak, speak. Quite dumb ?
"Dead, dead? A tomb

"Must cover thy sweet eyes.
"These lily brows,
"This cherry nose,

"These yellow cowslip cheeks,
"Are gone, are gone:
"Lovers, make moan!
"His eyes were green as leeks.
"O 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, blade, my breast imbrue:
"And farewell, friends;-
"Thus Thisbe ends:

"Adieu, adieu, adieu."


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