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Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby,

Did whisper often, very secretly.

This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone doth show

That I am that same wall; the truth is so;

And this the cranny is, right and sinister,

Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.

The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?

Dem. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord.

[Enter Pyramus.]

The.

Pyramus draws near the wall. Silence!

Pyr.

O grim-look’d night! O night with hue so black!

O night, which ever art when day is not!

O night, O night! alack, alack, alack,

I fear my Thisby’s promise is forgot!

And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall,

That stand’st between her father’s ground and mine!

Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall,

Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne!

[Wall holds up his fingers.]

Thanks, courteous wall; Jove shield thee well for this!

But what see I? No Thisby do I see.

O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss!

Curs’d be thy stones for thus deceiving me!