All language subtitles for A.Midsummer.Nights.Dream.2017.720p.WEBRip.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

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I have had a dream.

Weigh oath with oath,
and you will nothing weigh!

The nights dream away the time.

Fie!

That we are awake?

The raging rocks!

The shivering shocks!

I have had a most rare vision.

I have had a dream.

Man is but an ass if he go
about to expoundthis dream.

Methought I was...

There is no man can tell what.

Methought Iwas.

But man is but a patched fool
if he will offer to say

what methought I was.

The eye of man hath not heard,
the ear of man hath not seen,

man'’s hand is not able
to taste,

his tongue to conceive
nor his heart to report

what my dream was.

I will get Peter Quince
to write a ballad of this dream.

And it shall be called...

Come now,
what revels are in hand?

The Battle of the Centaurs.

The Battle of the Centaurs.
We'’ll none of that.

The Riot
of the Tipsy Bacchanals.

The Riot
of the Tipsy Bacchanals.

That is not sorting
with ceremony.

The Thrice Three Muses...

The Thrice Three Muses

mourning for the
death of learning.

It'’s an old device.

Oh! Come, my Hippolyta.

I must employ you in some
business against our nuptial

and confer with you...

Hippolyta, my love...

- Speak.
- -Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke.

Thanks, good Egeus.
What'’s the news with thee?

Full of vexation am I,
with complaint

against my child,
my daughter Hermia.

Hermia...

My lord?

Stir up the Athenian youth.

What say you, Egeus?

Stand forth, Demetrius.

My noble lord, this man hath
my consent to marry my daughter.

Put money in thy purse!
Put money in thy purse!

Three thousand ducats!
Well. Uh-huh?

For three months. Well?
For the witch, as I told you.

A stoup of wine, Maria?!

He'’s the best actor in the world
either for tragedy, comedy,

history, pastoral,
pastoral comical,

historical pastoral,

tragical comical
historical pastoral!

Kill all the lawyers!

Stand forth, Lysander.

And this, my gracious duke,

this man hath bewitched
the bosom of my child.

Can you give me the
lean and hungry look?

Yeah, smile. Smile!

All right, who'’s my rogue?
Who'’s my peasant?

Who'’s my slave?
You are.

Don'’t saw the air so much
with your hands!

And be a void.

Thou foul Lysander,
with cunning hast thou

filched my daughter'’s heart
and turned her obedience,

which is due to me,
to stubborn harshness.

Be it so she will not here
before your grace

consent to marry with Demetrius,

I beg the ancient privilege
of Athens.

As she is mine,
I may dispose of her,

which shall be either
to this gentleman.

What say you, Hermia?

Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.

I do entreat your grace
to pardon me.

For I know not by what power
I am made bold.

But I beseech your grace
that I may know

the worst that may befall me
in this case

if I refuse to wed Demetrius.

Fair Hermia...

question your desires.

Know of your youth.
Examine well your blood.

Relent, sweet Hermia,
and, Lysander,

yield thy crazed title
to my certain right.

You have her father'’s love,
Demetrius.

Let me have Hermia'’s.

Do you marry him.

Scornful Lysander!

True, he hath my love,

And what is mine
my love shall render him.

And she is mine,
and all my right of her

I do estate unto Demetrius.

Hence!

I am, my lord,
as well derived as he,

as well possessed,
my love is more than his.

And which is more
than all these boasts can be,

I am beloved
of beauteous Hermia.

Look, Demetrius...
I'’ll avouch it to his head...

Made love to Helena Maypole.

And she, sweet lady, dotes...
Devoutly dotes...

Dotesin idolatry upon this
spotted and inconstant man.

I must confess
that I have heard so much,

and with Demetrius
thought to have spoke thereof.

Demetrius, come, I have
some private schooling for you.

- You don'’t care...
- I docare about you!

And I don'’t want
to hear about it!

I know him better.
I know better for you.

O, hell.

"My...

good...

Lysander.

By his best arrow
with the golden head,

the simplicity of Venus'’ doves,

by all the vows
that men have ever..."

Sweet friend.

God speed, fair Helena!

Call you me fair?
That fair again unsay.

Demetrius loves your fair.

O happy fair!

His folly, Helena,
is no fault of mine.

None, but your beauty,
would that fault were mine.

Take comfort,
he no more shall see my face.

Lysander and myself
shall fly this place.

Through Athens'’ gates
have we devised to steal.

And thence from Athens
turn away our eyes

to seek new friends,
stranger companies.

Your eyes are lode-stars,

your tongue'’s sweet air
more tunable

than lark to shepherd'’s ear.

Sickness is catching.

O, were favor so,

yours would I catch,
fair Hermia, ere I go.

Were the world mine,
Demetrius being bated,

the rest I'’d give to be
to you translated...

Farewell, sweet playfellow.

Pray thou for us?

And good luck grant thee
thy Demetrius.

Adieu!

How happy some
o'’er other some can be.

Through Athens...
I am thought as fair as she.

But what of that?

Demetrius thinks not so.

He will not know
what all but he do know.

Things base and vile...

folding no quantity,

Love can transpose
to form and dignity.

Love looks not with the eyes
but with the mind.

And therefore,

is winged Cupid painted blind.

Nor hath Love'’s mind
of any judgment taste.

Wings and no eyes...

figure unheedy haste.

And therefore
Love is said to be a child

because in choice,
he is so oft beguiled.

As waggish boys
in game themselves forswear,

so the boy Love
is perjured everywhere.

For ere Demetrius
looked on Hermia'’s eyne,

he hailed down oaths
that he was only mine.

And when this hail some heat
from Hermia felt,

so he dissolved,
and showers of oaths did melt.

AFI, the Athens Film Institute.

All the world'’s a stage.

And all the men and women
merely players.

At the Athens Film Institute,

our end is to hold the mirror
up to nature.

So come, strut and fret
an hour upon our stage.

The Athens Film Institute.

Oh, this learning.
What a thing it is.

How now?

Well met, sir!

My lady.

"2-B."

Uh, 2-B?

Not 2-B.

Ah.

That'’s next door.

Oh.

Masters!

Is all our company here?

You were best to call them
generally,

one by one,
according to the script, okay?

- Hi.
- Here is a scroll
of everyone'’s names.

First, good Peter Quince,
say what the script treats on,

thenread the names
of the actors.

Marry.

Our show is...

the most lamentable comedy
and most cruel death

of Pyramus and Thisby.

- Ah.
- Now, good Peter Quince...

call forth your actors

Answer as I call you.
Nick Bottom.

Ready. Name what part
I am for and proceed.

You, Nick Bottom,
are set down for Pyramus.

What is Pyramus?
A lover, or a tyrant?

A lover, that kills himself
most gallant for love.

I will ask for some tears
in the true performing of it.

Ifl do it...

let the audience
look to their eyes.

I will move storms.
I will condole in some measure.

Okay, Francis Flute...

Yet my chief humor
is for a tyrant.

The raging rocks...

and shivering shocks

shall break the locks
of prison gates!

And Phibbus'’ car
shall shine from far

and make and mar
the foolish Fates.

Yay!

That'’s great.
Francis Flute?

Here, Peter Quince.

Flute, you must take
Thisby on you.

Oh, what is Thisby?
A wandering knight?

The lady that Pyramus must love.

Let me play Thisby, too!

I will speak
in a monstrous little voice.

Uh, Thisne... Thisne?

Ah, Pyramus, dear!

Thy Thisby dear and lady dear!

Huh?

No, no, you must play Pyramus.

- And, Flute, you Thisby.
- Well, proceed.

- Snug? You must...
- Snout.

Uh... you must play
Pyramus'’ father.

- And Snout...
- Snug.

Snug, you, the lion'’s part.

Have you the lion'’s part
written?

Are you, if it be, give it me?

For he is slow of study.

Let me play the lion, too.

I will roar, that I will do
any man'’s heart good to hear me.

I will roar
that I will make them say,

"Let him roar again!
Let him roar again!"

You can play no part
but Pyramus!

Shall break
the locks of prison gates!

Pyramus is a sweet man...

a proper man as one shall see
in a summer'’s day,

a most...

gentleman-like man.

Therefore you must needs
play Pyramus.

Well...

I will undertake it then.

Okay, wrap it up.

Masters, here are your parts.

And I am to request you
to con them by tonight

and go with me to the woods
a mile without the town.

By moonlight,
there will we rehearse...

We may rehearse most obscenely.

And courageously.

Take pains.
Be perfect.

Adieu. Ow.

Adieu.

H-Pup?

I'’ll tell Demetrius
of fair Hermia'’s flight.

Then after her
will he this night pursue her.

And for this intelligence
if I have thanks...

it is a dear expense.

Now, fair Hippolyta,
our nuptial hour draws on apace.

But O, methinks how slow
this old moon wanes.

She lingers my desire.

The days...

quickly steep themselves
in night.

The nights...

dream away the time.

And then the moon...

like to a silver bow...

new bent in heaven,

shall behold the night
of our solemnities.

Hippolyta...

I wooed thee with my sword,

but I will wed thee
in a different key,

with pomp, with triumph,
and with revelry.

The course of true
love never did run smooth.

Either
it was different in blood...

Or else it stood
upon the choice of friends...

Or, if there were
a sympathy in choice,

war, death, sickness
did lay siege to it...

Making it momentary as a sound,

swift as a shadow,

short as any dream.

Brief as the lightning
in the collied night.

That, in a spleen,

unfolds between
heaven and Earth.

And ere a man hath power

to say, "Behold."

The jaws of darkness
do devour it up.

So quick bright things
come to confusion.

Whoo!

How now, spirit?

Either I mistake
your shape and making quite,

or else you are that shrewd
and knavish sprite

called Robin Goodfellow.

- Are not you he?
- Thou speaks to right.

I am that merry wanderer
of the night.

You have witchcraft
in your lips.

You have witchcraft
in your lips.

You have witchcraft
in your lips.

Therefore farewell,
thou lob of spirits.

Spirit, whither wander you?

Over hill, over dale,
thorough brush, thorough briar.

Over park, over pale,
thorough flood, thorough fire.

Spirit? Spirit?

I do wander everywhere
swifter than the moon'’s sphere.

And I serve the fairy queen
to dew her orbs upon the green.

Spirit! Spirit!

The king doth keep
his revels here tonight.

Take heed the queen
come not within his sight

for Oberon
is passing fell and wrath.

But room fairy,
here comes Oberon.

Ill met by moonlight,
proud Titania.

What, jealous Oberon?
Fairies, skip hence.

I have forsworn
his bed and company.

Tarry.

Tarry... rash...

Wanton.
Am not I thy lord?

Then I must be thy lady.
Why art thou here?

But that, forsooth,
the bouncing Amazon,

your buskined mistress
and your warrior love

to Theseus must be wedded.

How can'’st thou thus
for shame Titania

glance at my credit
with Hippolyta

knowing I know
thy love to Theseus?

These are
the forgeries of jealousy.

And never since
the middle summer spring,

met we on hill, in dale,
in forest, or mead.

But with thy brawls,
thou hast disturbed our sport.

Therefore the winds,
piping to us in vain,

as in revenge,
have sucked up from the sea

contagious fogs,
which falling in the land

have every pelting river
made so proud

that they have overborne
their continents.

The ox hath therefore stretched
his yoke in vain,

the plowman lost his sweat,
and the green corn

rotted ere his youth
attained a beard.

Therefore the moon,
the governess of floods,

pale in her anger,
washes all the air

that rheumatic diseases
do abound

and thorough this
distemperature we see
the seasons alter.

The spring, the summer,
the childing autumn,

angry winter
change their wonted liveries,

and the mazed world,
by their increase,

knows not which is which.

And this same progeny of evils

comes from our debate,
from our dissension.

We are their parents
and original.

Do you amend it then?

It lies in you.

Why should Titania
cross her Oberon?

Fairies, be gone,
and be always away.

I shall chide downright
if we longer stay.

Well, go thy way.

Thou shalt not
from this grove...

till I torment thee
for this injury.

My gentle Puck,
thou rememb'’rest since once

I sat upon a promontory
and heard a mermaid

on a dolphin'’s back
uttering such dulcet

and harmonious breath
that the rude sea

grew civil at her song

and certain stars
shot madly from there spheres

to hear the sea maid'’s music?

I remember.

That very time,

I saw... but thou couldst not...

Cupid all armed.

A certain aim he took...

and loosed his love shaft
smartly from his bow

as it should pierce
a hundred thousand hearts.

Yet marked I
where the bolt of Cupid fell.

It fell upon
a little western flower,

before milk white,
now crimson with love'’s wound.

Fetch me this flower.

The juice of it
on sleeping eyelids laid

will make or man or woman
madly dote

upon the next
live creature it sees.

Fetch me this herb
and be back again

ere the leviathan
can swim a league.

So quick bright things
come to confusion.

Alone in night and silence.

Alone?

Alone shines with a good grace.

Nor doth this wood
lack worlds of company...

the clamorous owl that hoots

and wonders
at our quaint spirits?

How then can it be said
that you are alone

when all the world
is here to look on you?

Uh...

Hermia?

I love thee not,
therefore pursue me not!

You draw me,
you hard-hearted adamant.

But yet you draw not iron
for my heart is true as steel...

D... Demet... Demetrius?

I am your spaniel, Demetrius.

Use me but as your spaniel,
spurn me,

strike me, neglect me, lose me!

Only give me leave, unworthy
as I am, to follow you...

Hence, get thee gone,
and follow me no more!

Fie!

Demetrius!

Your wrongs do set
a scandal on my sex.

We cannot fight for love,
as men may do!

We should be wooed,
and we'’re not made to woo!

I'’ll follow thee!

And make a heaven of hell!

To die upon the hand
I love so well!

Demetrius!

Demetrius!

Fair love?

You faint from wandering
in the wood.

And to speak troth...
we have lost our way.

Let'’s rest us Hermia,
if you think it good,

and tarry for the comfort
of the day.

Be it so, Lysander.

Tempt not too much the hatred
of my spirit,

for I am sick
when I do look on thee.

And I am sick
when I look not on you.

You do impeach your modesty
too much

to leave the city
and commit yourself

into the hands
of one that loves you not.

Your virtue is my privilege.

I will not stay thy questions.

Let me go, or if thou follow me,

do not believe but I shall
do thee mischief in the wood.

Aye.

In the temple...

in the town,
the field, you do me mischief!

Don'’t fight, Demetrius!

Fare thee well, nymph,
ere he do leave this grove,

thou shalt fly him,
and he shall seek thy love.

Nay, good Lysander,

for my sake, my dear,
lie further off.

Do not lie so near.

Take the sense sweet
of my innocence.

Stay! Though thou kill me,
sweet Demetrius.

I charge thee, hence,
and do not haunt me thus!

Demetrius...

Do I entice you?!
Do I speak you fair?!

I mean that my heart
unto yours is knit,

so that but one heart
you can make of it.

Then by your side
no bedroom me deny,

for lying so, Hermia,
I do not lie.

Or rather do I not
in plainest truth tell you

I do not nor I cannot love you?!

And even for that
do I love you the more.

Lysander... riddles...

very prettily.

O, wilt thou darkling leave me?
Do not so.

Amen, amen to that
fair prayer say I!

Stay, on thy peril.

I alone will go.

I am out of breath
in this fond chase.

The more my prayer,
the lesser is my grace.

Fare ye well.

'’Tis partly my own fault,

which death or absence...

soon shall remedy.

To Athens will I bear
my folly back.

And follow you no further.

Back to Athens.

Siri not available.

Good night, sweet friend.

Oh...

Thy love ne'’er alter
till thy sweet life end?

Welcome wanderer,
hast thou the flower there?

Aye, there it is.

I pray thee, give it me.

Come now, a roundel
and a fairy song.

And with the juice of this,
I'’ll streak her eyes.

Take thou some of it.

A sweet Athenian lady is in love
with a disdainful youth.

Anoint his eyes,

but do it when the next thing
he espies may be the lady.

- Thou shalt know the man!
- Yeah.

By the Athenian garments
he hath on!

Yeah, got it.

What thou seest
when thou dost wake...

love and languish for its sake.

Be it ounce or cat or bear...

pard or boar
with bristled hair...

in thy eye what shall appear...

when thou wakest,
it is thy dear.

Wake when some foul thing
is near.

Who is here?
Weeds of Athens he doth wear.

This is he my master
said despised the Athenian maid.

When thou wakest,

let love forbid sleep
his seat on thy eyelid.

So... oh!

Back to Athens!

Awake when I am gone,
for I must now to Oberon!

Happy is Hermia...

wheresoe'’er she lies.

For she hath blessed
and attractive eyes.

How came her eyes so bright?

Not with salt tears, for if so,

yours are oftener washed
than hers.

I am as ugly as a bear!

Okay, here'’s what I found
on the web for grizzly bear.

Oh! Spite!

Who is here?
Lysander?

On the ground? Lysander?

If you live, good sir, awake.

And run through fire will
I for thy sweet sake.

Transparent Helena!

Nature here shows art

that through thy bosom
makes me see thy heart.

- Do not say so, Lysander.
- Say not so.

What though you love
your Hermia, lord, what though?

Yet Hermia still loves you,
then be content.

Content with Hermia?
No, I do repent

the tedious minutes
I with her have spent.

Not Hermia but Helena I love.

Who will not change
a raven for a dove?

Is it not enough?

Is it not enough, young man,
that I did never, no,

nor never can, deserve a sweet
look from Demetrius'’ eye,

but you must flout
my insufficiency?!

Fare you well.

Perforce I must confess, I...

thought you lord
of more true gentleness.

She sees not Hermia.
Hermia, sleep thou there.

And never mayst thou
come Lysander near.

And all my powers
address your love and might

To honor Helen
and to be her knight!

Pyramus, you begin.

When you have spoken
your speech,

enter into that brake,

and so... everyone
according to their cue.

And focus on.

Can you step back a little?

One step. Perfect.

What hempen homespuns
have we here?

Pyramus and Thisby, take two.

And...

- This...
- Action.

Action.

Thisby!

The flowers of odious...

- Odors.
- Odors?

- Odors.
- Odors?!

Yeah.

Odors.

The flowers
of odors savors sweet.

So hath thy breath,
my dearest Thisby dear.

A stranger Pyramus
than e'’er played here.

- Kiss?
- No kiss.

But hark, a voice!

Stay thou but here awhile,
and by and by,

I will to thee appear.
Eh?

Okay.

Most radiant Pyramus,
most lily-white of hue,

I'’ll meet thee Pyramus,
at Ninny'’s tomb.

Ninus'’ tomb, and why are you...

you must...
No, you not speak that now.

- That you answer to Pyramus.
- Oh.

Go again.

I'’ll meet thee,
Pyramus, at Ninny'’s tomb!

- Ninus!
- Sorry. Sorry.

Wait, am I supposed
to go that way... sorry.

The lips, the teeth,
the tip of the tongue,

the tip of the tongue,
the teeth, the lips.

Red leather, yellow leather.
Red leather, yellow leather.

Red leather.

Autumn.

Oh...

Pyramus! Enter!

Your cue is past!
It is, "never tire!"

Jeez.
Again.

As true as truest horse,
that yet would never tire.

I think that'’s him.

If I were fair Thisby,
I were only thine.

O, Bottom, thou are changed!
What do I see in thee?!

What doyou see?

You see an ass head
of your own, do you?

O, sirs! Thy...

Bottom?

Thou art translated!

Why do they run away?

Help me, Lysander.

Help me.

Do thy best to pluck
this crawling serpent

from my breast!

Ay me, for pity!

What a dream was here.

Lysander,
look how I do quake with fear.

Lysander?

Lysander?

Lord!

Alack, where are you?
Speak!

No.

Then I well perceive
you are not nigh.

Either you or death
I will find immediately!

Oh!
I see their knavery.

They wish to make an ass of me,

to fright me if they could!

Well, I will not stir
from this place.

I will walk up and down,
and I will sing,

and they shall hear
that I am not afraid!

A-one, two, three!

What angel wakes me
from my slumberous bed?

Gates?

Huh?

I pray thee, gentle mortal

sing again for mine ear
is much enamored of thy note.

So is mine eye enthralled
to thy shape,

and thy fair virtue'’s force
perforce doth move me

on the first view to say...

to swear... I love thee.

Methinks, mistress,

you should have
little reason for that.

And yet, to say truth,

reason and love keep little
company together nowadays.

Thou art as wise
as thou art beautiful.

Nay!

But if I had wit enough
to get out of this den,

I'’d have enough
to serve mine own.

Peace.

Out of this den
do not desire to go.

Thou shalt remain here,
whether thou wilt or no.

I am a spirit of no common rate,

and I shall purge
thy mortal grossness so,

that thou shalt like
an airy spirit.

Go.

Huzzah.

Huzzah!

Sweet... sweet...

Oh, sweet mulberries!

Oh... oh!

I wonder if Titania be awake.

Ah, here comes my messenger.

How now, mad spirit?

My mistress
with a monster is in love.

This falls out
better than I could devise.

But hast thou yet latched
the Athenian'’s eyes

with the love juice
as I bid thee do?

I took him sleeping.
That is finished, too.

O, why rebuke
you him that loves you so?

Lay breath so bitter
on your bitter foe?

Stand close.
This is the same Athenian.

Uh... This is the woman,
but not this the man.

What'’s this to my Lysander?
Where is he?

Good Demetrius,
wilt thou give him me?

I had rather give his carcass
to my hounds.

Out, dog.

Out, cur!

Thou drivest me past
the bounds of maiden'’s patience!

You spend your passion
on a misprised mood!

I am not guilty
of Lysander'’s blood,

nor is he dead,
for aught that I can tell.

I pray thee, tell me then
that he is well.

And if I could,
what should I get therefore?

A privilege
never to see me more.

There is no following her
in this fierce vein.

Here therefore for a while...

I will remain.

What hast thou done?

Thou has mistaken quite
and laid the love juice

on some true love'’s sight!

About the wood go swifter
than the wind!

Helena of Athens look thou find.

By some illusion see thou
bring her here!

I'’ll charm his eyes
against she do appear.

Flower of this crimson dye...

hit by Cupid'’s archery...

sink in apple of his eye.

Hail mortal.

Captain of our fairy band,

Helena is here at hand,
and the youth, mistook by me

pleading for a lover'’s fee.

Shall we their fond pageant see?

Lord,
what fools these mortals be!

- Fie!
- What a dream was here?

Nooo!

Weigh oath with oath
and you will nothing weigh!

I had no judgment
when to her I swore.

Nor none in my mind.
Now you give her o'’er.

D-Demetrius loves her,
and he loves not you!

Ow!

O, Helen... goddess...

nymph...

perfect...

divine.

O, spite.

O, hell!

I see you both are bent to set
against me for your merriment.

Can you not hate me,
as I know you do,

but you must join in souls
to mock me, too?

You are unkind,
Demetrius. Be not so.

For you love Hermia.
This you know I know.

Lysander, keep thy Hermia.
I will none.

If e'’er I loved her,
all that love is gone.

Helen, it is not so.

Disparage not the faith
thou dost not know.

Lysander!

Look, where thy love comes.

Yonder is thy dear.

Mine ear, I thank it.
Brought me to thy sound.

But why unkindly
didst thou leave me so?

Why should he stay, whom love
doth press to go?

What love could press Lysander
from myside?

Lysander'’s love
that would not let him bide.

Why seek'’st thou me?

You speak not as you think.
It cannot be.

Lo...

she is one of this confederacy!

Now I perceive
you have conjoined all three

to fashion this false sport
in spite of me.

I am amazed
at your passionate words.

I scorn you not.

Have you not set Lysander,
as in scorn,

to follow me
and praise my eyes and face?

And made your other love,
Demetrius, who even but now

did spurn me with his foot,
to call me...

-goddess,
-Yeah.

Nymph?

Divine and rare?

Precious?

Celestial?

Helen, I love thee.
By my life, I do.

Helen, I say I love thee
more than he can do.

If thou say so, withdraw,
and prove it, too.

O, excellent!

Lysander?
Whereto tends all this?

Hang off, thou cat, thou burr.
Vile thing, let loose.

Or I will shake thee
from me like a serpent!

Why are you grown so rude?

Out, tawny Tartar, out!

Out, loathed medicine,
O, hated potion, hence!

Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh.

O, the gods forbid.

In earnest then, shall I say?

Ay, by my life!

And never did desire
to see thee more.

Therefore be out of hope,
of question, of doubt,

be certain, nothing truer,
'’tis no jest

that I do hate thee...
Hate thee...

I do hate thee and love Helena.

O, me.

You...

juggler!

You canker-blossom!
You thief of love!

What, have you come by night

and stolen my love'’s heart
from him?

Fie... fie.

You counterfeit.

You puppet.

Puppet. Puppet!

What, because, uh,
I am so dwarfish?

And so low?!

How low am I,
thou painted maypole?

Speak! How low am I?

I am not yet so low
but that my nails

cannot reach unto thine eyes!

I pray you, though you mock me,
gentlemen, let her not hurt me.

Be not afraid,
she shall not harm thee, Helena!

No, she shall not!

O, when she'’s angry,
she is keen and shrewd!

And though she be but little,
she is fierce.

"Little"? Again?
Nothing but "low" and "little"?

Get you gone, you dwarf!

You minimus!
You bead!

You acorn!

Now follow, if thou darest,
to try whose right,

of thine or mine,
is most in Helena.

Follow? Nay, I'’ll go with thee,
cheek by jowl!

This is thy negligence.

Believe me, king of shadows,
I mistook.

Did not you tell me I should
know the man

by the Athenian garments
he had on?

- Do you amend it then?
- Eh...

Gentle Puck, crush this herb

into Lysander'’s eye,
whose liquor hath

this virtuous property
to take from thence

all error with his might

and make his eyeballs roll
with wonted sight.

Hmm, my fairy lord,
this must be done with haste.

For night'’s swift dragons

cut the clouds full fast.

See'’st thou?

These lovers seek
a place to fight.

Hie, therefore, Robin,
overcast the night.

Starry welkin cover thou anon

with drooping fog
as dark as Acheron.

And to Demetrius sometime
frame thy tongue.

Whereart thou, proud Demetrius?!

Here villain, drawn and ready!

Then stir Lysander up
with bitter wrong

and sometimes rail thou
like Lysander.

Lysander!

Thou runaway!
Thou coward!

Art thou fled?!

Come recreant, come thou child,
I'’ll whip thee with a rod!

And from each other,
look thou lead them thus.

The villain is much
lighter heeled than I.

I followed fast,
but faster he did fly.

That fallen am I
in dark uneven way.

And here will rest me.

Come, thou gentle day!

Till o'’er their brows
death counterfeiting sleep

with leaden legs
and batty wings doth creep.

Faintness constraineth me
to measure out my length

on this cold bed.

By day'’s approach,
look to be visited.

When next they wake,

all this derision shall seem
a dream and fruitless vision.

O, weary night...

O, long and tedious night,
abate thy hours.

And sleep...

that sometimes
shuts up sorrow'’s eye...

steal me away.

From mine own company.

And back to Athens
shall the lovers wend,

with league whose dates
till death shall never end.

Never so weary.

Never so in woe.

I can no further crawl...

no... further... go.

And all things shall be peace.

My lord?!

My lord!

The law.
The law upon his head.

This blood.

On the ground sleep sound.

I'’ll apply to your eye
gentle lover remedy.

Sweet friends.

Demetrius?

Ahh...

When thou wakest,
thou takest true delight

in the sight
of thy former lady'’s eye.

And the country proverb known,
that every man

should take his own,
in your waking shall be shown.

Jack shall have Jill.
Naught shall go ill.

Man shall have his mare again,

and all... shall...
be... well.

O, sweet, bully Bottom.

Come, lie thee down
upon this billowy bed,

while I thy amiable head do coy,

and kiss thy fair
large cheeks, my gentle joy.

I pray you,
let none of your people stir me,

for I have an exposition
of sleep come upon me.

Sleep thou.

And I will wind thee in my arms.

So doth the woodbine

the sweet honeysuckle
gently entwist,

the female ivy so enrings
the barky fingers of the elm.

O, how I love thee,
how I dote on thee!

Her dotage now
I do begin to pity.

Gentle Puck,
take this transformed scalp

from off the head
of this Athenian swain

that he,
awaking when the others do,

may back to Athens again repair,

and think no more
of this night'’s accidents...

but as the fierce vexation
of a dream.

But first...

I will release the fairy queen.

Be as thou wast wont to be.

See as thou wast wont to see.

Dian'’s bud
o'’er cupid'’s flower

hath such force
and blessed power.

Now, my Titania...

wake you, my sweet queen.

O, my Oberon.

What visions have I seen.

Methought I was enamored
of an ass.

Silence awhile.

And in silence sad,

trip we after night'’s shade.

We the globe can compass soon,

swifter than the wandering moon.

When thou wakest, with thine own
fool'’s eyes, peep!

Morning love.

Lord,
what fools these mortals be.

Ah!
How now, spirit?

Call the forester.

Yeah, I was with Hercules
and Cadmus once,

when in a wood of Crete,
they bayed the bear

with hounds of Sparta.

Uh, my hounds are bred
of the Spartan kind.

So flewed, so sanded,

and their heads
are hung with ears that...

But soft.

What nymphs are these?

Good morrow, friends!

Saint Valentine'’s is past!

Begin these wood birds
but to couple now?

Pardon, my lord.

I pray you all, stand up.

I know you two
are rival enemies.

How comes this gentle concord
of the world?

My lord, I shall reply amazedly,
half sleep, half waking,

but as yet, I cannot truly say
how I came here.

The law,
the law upon his head, my lord.

Fair lovers,
you are fortunately met.

Of this discourse,
we more will hear anon.

Tis strange, my lord,
that these lovers speak of.

More strange than true.

I never may believe
these antique fables

nor these fairy toys.

Lovers and madmen
have such seething brains,

such shaping fantasies,

that apprehend more than
cool reason ever comprehends.

Are you sure that we are awake?

It seems to me that yet
we sleep,

we dream.

The lunatic,
the lover, and the poet

are of imagination all compact.

One sees more devils
than vast hell can hold.

That is the madman.

The lover, all is frantic,

see'’s Helen'’s beauty
in a brow of Egypt.

The poet'’s eye,
in fine frenzy rolling,

doth glance
from heaven to earth,

from earth to heaven,
and as imagination bodies forth

the forms of things unknown.

Fair Helena,
I wot not by what power,

but... by some power,

it is my love to Hermia...

melted as the snow.

To you, fair Helena,
was I betrothed

ere I saw Hermia.

And... all the faith,

the virtue of my heart,

the object
and the pleasure of mine eye...

is only Helena.

And I have found Demetrius,

like a jewel...

mine own and not mine own.

Enough! Enough, my lord!
You have enough!

They would have stolen away,
they would to be...

Om...

Fairy King, attend and mark,

I do hear the morning lark!
Whoo!

Come my queen,
take hands with me.

Now thou and I are new in amity,

and will tonight
midnight solemnly

sing in Duke Theseus'’ house
triumphantly.

There shall the pairs of
faithful lovers be wedded,

with Theseus all in jollity.

Sound music!

Music, ho!

Egeus?
I'’m going to overbear your will.

For in the temple,
by and by, with us,

these couples
shall be eternally knit.

Away with us, to Athens!

Three and three, we'’ll hold
a feast in great solemnity!

Let'’s go.

Come on, hey.

Come on. Come on!

Hey!

Well?

Oh, hello again!

Thank you.
"Duke Theseus."

Duke Theseus?

Have you sent
to Bottom'’s house?

- Is he come home yet?
- He cannot be heard of.

Out of doubt, he is transported.

If he come not,
then the show is marred.

It go not forward, doth it?

It is not possible.

You have not a man in all Athens

able to discharge Pyramus
but he.

No, he hath simply the best wit
of any man in Athens.

Yea, and the best person, too.

Where are these lads?!

Bottom?

Where are these hearts?!

Bottom!

- Bottom!
- Bottom!

O! O, happy day!

Masters, masters!

I am to discourse wonders,

but ask me not what,
for if I tell you...

Oh, I will tell you everything,
right as it fell out!

You look, um, beautiful.

Joy, gentle friends!

Joy and fresh days
of love accompany your hearts.

The eye of man hath not heard,

the ear of man hath not seen,

man'’s hand is
not able to taste,

his tongue to conceive,
nor his heart to report

what my dream was!

I'’ll be hanged.

Fuck it.

Masters, the duke
is coming from the temple,

and there is two...
or three lords

and ladies more getting married.

Aw.

Masters,
get your apparel together.

Get good strings to your beards.
New ribbons to your pumps.

Every man look o'’er his part,

for the long
and the short of it is...

our show is preferred.

Our show is preferred?

Our show is preferred?

- Our show is preferred?
- Our show is preferred.

- Our show is preferred.
- Our show is preferred.

Our show is preferred!

In any case,
let Thisby wear clean linen,

and let not him that plays
the lion pare his nails,

- for they shall...
- They shall hang out
for lion'’s claws!

And I do not doubt

but to hear them say it
shall be a sweet comedy.

No more words.

Go. Away. Away!

The Most Lamentable Comedy
and Most Cruel Death

of Pyramus and Thisby.

A very good piece of work,
I assure you.

To the Duke'’s!

To the Duke'’s!

Out.

Out!

Damn, Spot.

Now what abridgement
will we for this evening?

Uh, the actors are at hand.

Ta-da!

How will we beguile
the lazy time

if not with some delight?

My lord.

A Tedious Brief Scene of Young
Pyramus and His Love Thisby.

Very Tragical Mirth.

Bring '’em in.
They'’re here.

And take your places.

So, please, your grace?

Approach!

Yeah, come.

Uh, if we offend...

it is with our good will...

that y-you should think
we come not to offend

but with...

good will.

- To show our simple skill...
- Okay.

That is the true beginning
of our end.

So. Um...

Thank you.

O, grim-looked night.

O, night with hue so black.

O, night.
Alack, alack, alack!

O, wall, show me thy chink!

This is the silliest stuff
I ever have heard.

The best in this kind
are but shadows,

and the worst are no worse
if imagination amend them.

Wall! Cursed be thy stones
for thus deceiving me!

O, wall...

full often
hast thou heard my moans,

for parting my fair Pyramus
and me.

I see a voice! Thisby?

My love!
Thou art my love, I think!

Think what thou wilt.
I am thy lover'’s grace.

- Wilt thou at Ninny'’s tomb...
- Ninus!

'’Tide life, '’tide death,
I come without delay!

This is old Ninny'’s tomb.
Where'’s my love?

Well run, Thisby!

Well roared, Lion!

O, sweet moon,

I thank thee
for thy sunny beams.

I thank thee now
for shining so bright.

But stay! O, spite!

But mark... poor knight.

Eyes, do you see?!

How can it be?!

O, dainty duck!

Thy mantle good!

What, stained with... with blood!

Approach, ye furies fell!

O fates, come, come!

Cut thread and thrum!

Quail, crush, conclude,
and quell!

Oh!
Out, oh, come, tears!

Come tears!

Confound! Confound!

Out, sword.

And wound the pap of Pyramus.

Ay, the left pap,
where heart doth hop!

Agh!

Thus I die!

With the help of a surgeon,
he may yet recover,

and prove an ass.

Thus! Thus!

Th...

Asleep, my love?

Here comes Thisby,
and her passion ends the show.

What... dead, my dove?

O, Pyramus, arise!

Speak, speak!

Quite dumb.

Dead... dead!

A tomb will cover
thy sweet eyes.

These lips, this cherry nose...

these yellow cowslip cheeks,
are gone.

Are gone.

Lovers, make moans.

His eyes were green as leeks.

Tongue, not a word.

Come, trusty sword.

Get her name.

Come, blade, my breast imbrue.

And farewell friends.

Thus Thisby ends.

Adieu...

Adieu...

Adieu.

Bravo!

A fine tragedy!

And mirthful!

Full of mirth!

Well played, young man!

Will it please you
to see an epilogue?

No!

No epilogue, I pray you,
for your...

- Your show needs no excuse.
- Mm!

- But come! Come!
- Excuse.

A fortnight
hold we this solemnity,

in nightly revels
and in new jollity!

If we shadows have offended,

think but this,
and all is mended.

That you have
but slumbered here...

while these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme,

no more yielding but a dream.

Gentles...
do not reprehend.

If you pardon, we will mend.

And as I am an honest Puck,

if we have unearned luck now
to '’scape the serpent'’s tongue,

we will make amends ere long.

Else the Puck a liar call.

So good night unto you all.

Give me your hands,
if we be friends.

And Robin shall restore amends.