HIPPOLYTA.
I am aweary of this moon. Would he would change!
THESEUS.
It appears by his small light of discretion that he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time.
LYSANDER.
Proceed, Moon.
MOON.
All that I have to say, is to tell you that the lantern is the moon; I the man i’ the moon; this thorn-bush my thorn-bush; and this dog my dog.
DEMETRIUS.
Why, all these should be in the lantern, for all these are in the moon. But silence; here comes Thisbe.
Enter Thisbe.
THISBE.
This is old Ninny’s tomb. Where is my love?
LION.
Oh!
[The Lion roars, Thisbe runs off.]
DEMETRIUS.
Well roared, Lion.