Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Prol. And findes his Thisbies Mantle slaine;
Prol. Whereat, with blade, with bloody blamefull blade,
Prol. He brauely broacht his boiling bloudy breast,
Prol. And Thisby, tarrying in Mulberry shade,
Prol. His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,
Prol. Let Lyon, Moone‑shine, Wall, and Louers twaine,
Prol. At large discourse, while here they doe remaine.
Prol. Exit all but Wall.
Thes. Thes.
Thes. I wonder if the Lion be to speake.
Deme. Deme.
Deme. No wonder, my Lord: one Lion may, when
Deme. many Asses doe.
Deme. Exit Lyon, Thisbie, and Mooneshine.
Wall. Wall.
Wall. In this same Interlude, it doth befall,
Wall. That I, one Snowt (by name) present a wall:
Wall. And such a wall, as I vvould haue you thinke,
Wall. That had in it a crannied hole or chinke:
Wall. Through which the Louers, Piramus and Thisbie