A Midsummer Nights Dream
William Shakespeare 'A Midsummer Nights Dream'
Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;
I thank thee, Monn, for shining now so bright;
For by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams,
I trust to take of truest Thisby sight.
But stay! O spite!
But mark, poor knight,
What a dreadful dole is here!
Eyes, do you see?
How can it be?
O dainty duck! O dear!
Thy mantle good,
What stained with blood?
Approach, ye Furies fell:
O Fates! come, come:
Cut thread and thrum,
Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!
(Bottom as Pyramus)