What a funny plot it has. And censored scenes(you know whats). Yuck . Here's a weensy extract from the play:
THESEUS This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad. HIPPOLYTA Beshrew my heart but I pity the man. BOTTOM a Pyramus O, wherefore, Nature didst thou lions frame? since lion vile hath here deflowered my dear? which is--no,no! which was--the fairest dame That lived,that loved, that liked, that look 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. (?!) [he stabbed himself]
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. (Die two times?)
FLUTE as Thisbe 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 lips, This cherry nose, Those yellow cowslip cheeks, Are gone, are gone. (Trust me, the actor looked hideous) 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 ('ahem') imbrue! (She stabs herself) And farewell, friends. Thus Thisbe ends. Adieu, adieu, adieu.
What a funny plot it has. And censored scenes(you know whats). Yuck . Here's a weensy extract from the play:
THESEUS This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad. HIPPOLYTA Beshrew my heart but I pity the man. BOTTOM a Pyramus O, wherefore, Nature didst thou lions frame? since lion vile hath here deflowered my dear? which is--no,no! which was--the fairest dame That lived,that loved, that liked, that look 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. (?!) [he stabbed himself]
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. (Die two times?)
FLUTE as Thisbe 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 lips, This cherry nose, Those yellow cowslip cheeks, Are gone, are gone. (Trust me, the actor looked hideous) 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 ('ahem') imbrue! (She stabs herself) And farewell, friends. Thus Thisbe ends. Adieu, adieu, adieu.
