Pyr.
O grim-look'd Night! a Night with hue so black,
O Night! which ever art when Day is not!
O Night! Oh Night! alack! alack! alack!
I fear my Thisbe's Promise is forgot.
And thou, Oh Wall, thou sweet and lovely Wall,
That stands between her Father's Ground and mine,
Shew me thy Chink, to blink through with mine Eyne.
Thanks, courteous Wall, Jove shield thee well for this.
But what see I? No Thisbe do I see.
O wicked Wall! through whom I see no Bliss
Curst may you be for thus deceiving me.

Crot.

The Wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.

Sem.
There you are quite mistaken, for deceiving me
Is Thisbe's cue; she is to enter, and he is to spy
Her through the Wall.
Pat as I told you, Yonder she comes.

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