_Pro._ 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 130 Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder; And through Wall’s chink, poor souls, they are content To whisper. At the which let no man wonder. This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn, Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know, 135 By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn To meet at Ninus’ tomb, there, there to woo. This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name, The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, Did scare away, or rather did affright; 140 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, 145 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, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain At large discourse, while here they do remain. 150 [_Exeunt Prologue, Thisbe, Lion, and Moonshine._ _The._ I wonder if the lion be to speak. _Dem._ No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses do. _Wall._ In this same interlude it doth befall That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; 155 And such a wall, as I would have you think, That had in it a crannied hole or chink, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, Did whisper often very secretly. This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show 160 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, 165 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, 170 I fear my Thisby’s promise is forgot! And them, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, That stand’st between her father’s ground and mine! Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne! 175 [_Wall holds up his fingers._ Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for this! But what see I? No Thisby do I see. O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss! Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me! _The._ The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse 180 again.