sc. i
A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM
127
Come, tears, confound;
Out, sword, and wound
The pap of Pyramus;
Ay, that left pap,
Where heart doth hop: [Stabs himself.
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:
[Exit Moonshine.
Now die, die, die, die, die. [Dies.
Exit Moonshine
