To hear the rest of the story, let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and the two separated lovers explain it more fully while they stand here on the stage.Too Long Didn't ReadHe did in fact find his father still at table. Then Thisbe, waiting in the shade of the mulberry bushes, took out his dagger and killed herself. Because of that, he raised his sword-his bloodthirsty responsible blade-and bravely stabbed his raging, ferocious chest. Soon Pyramus arrives, a sweet and tall young man, and finds his faithful Thisbe’s cloak covered in blood. And, as she ran away, she dropped her cloak, which the awful Lion stained with his bloody mouth. This dreadful beast, which is called “Lion,” scared away, or rather frightened, the faithful Thisbe when she arrived first at the meeting place one night. Because, if you'd like to know, the lovers didn't think it was shameful to meet each other in the moonlight by Ninus’s tomb-there, they would woo each other. This man, who has the lantern, dog, and thorn bush, is playing the role of Moonshine. Through a little hole in the Wall, the poor souls are content to whisper. This man, dusted in lime and plaster, is playing the Wall, that awful wall that separated these lovers. It's certain that this beautiful lady is Thisbe. This man is Pyramus, if you'd like to know. Keep on wondering, until the truth makes everything clear. Ladies and gentlemen, perhaps you're wondering about the subject of this play. For all the rest, Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain At large discourse, while here they do remain. And Thisbe, tarrying in mulberry shade, His dagger drew, and died. Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade, He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast. Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall, And finds his trusty Thisbe’s mantle slain. And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall, Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain. This grisly beast, which “Lion” hight by name, The trusty Thisbe, coming first by night, Did scare away, or rather did affright. For, if you will know, By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn To meet at Ninus' tomb-there, there to woo. This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn, Presenteth Moonshine. And through Wall’s chink, poor souls, they are content To whisper. This man, with lime and roughcast, doth present Wall, that vile wall which did these lovers sunder. But wonder on, till truth make all things plain. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show. Or if, in the night, they feel some fear, they see a bush and imagine it’s a bear! When people who have such strong imaginations feel some kind of joy, they imagine that it must be some entity or power that brings or creates that joy. And they take the unreal things that tumble out of their imagination and write about them as if they were actual places or things. Poets, who are always glancing around as if they are overcome by passion, make constant connections between things that are earthly and things that are heavenly. Lovers, who are just as wild, see a gypsy's face and think it is as beautiful as Helen of Troy's. Madmen, lovers, and poets all are all controlled by their imaginations: The ones who see devils and monsters all over the place-those are the madmen. Lovers and madmen have so much going on in their heads, such active imaginations, that they see and hear things that cool, calm, rational people can't understand. I don't believe any of these ancient stories or fairy tales. I think the story is more strange than it is true.
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