All language subtitles for 1968 A Midsummer Nights Dream

Now, Fair Hippolyta,

Our Nuptial Hour
Draws On Apace;

4 Happy Days
Bring In Another Moon:

But, O, Methinks,

How Slow
This Old Moon Wanes!

She Lingers My Desires,

Like To A Step-Dame
Or A Dowager

Long Withering Out
A Young Man'S Revenue.

4 Days Will Quickly
Steep Themselves In Night;

4 Nights Will Quickly
Dream Away The Time;

And Then The Moon,

Like To A Silver Bow
New-Bent In Heaven,

Shall Behold The Night
Of Our Solemnities.

- Go, Philostrate,

Stir Up The Athenian
Youth To Merriments;

Awake The Pert And Nimble
Spirit Of Mirth;

Turn Melancholy Forth
To Funerals;

The Pale Companion
Is Not For Our Pomp.

Hippolyta, I Woo'D Thee
With My Sword,

And Won Thy Love,
Doing Thee Injuries;

But I Will Wed Thee
In Another Key,

With Pomp, With Triumph,
And With Revelling.

Happy Be Theseus,
Our Renowned Duke!

- Thanks, Good Egeus:
What'S The News With Thee?

Full Of Vexation Come I,
With Complaint

Against My Child,
My Daughter Hermia.

Stand Forth, Demetrius.
My Noble Lord,

This Man Hath My Consent
To Marry Her.

Stand Forth, Lysander:

This Man Hath Witch'D
The Bosom Of My Child;

And, My Gracious Duke,
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

Or To Her Death,

According To Our Law

Immediately Provided
In That Case.

What Say You, Hermia?

Be Advised Fair Maid:

To You Your Father
Should Be As A God;

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.

Either To Die The Death

Or To Abjure For Ever
The Society Of Men.

Therefore, Fair Hermia,
Question Your Desires;

Know Of Your Youth,
Examine Well Your Blood,

Whether, If You Yield Not
To Your Father'S Choice,

You Can Endure
The Livery Of A Nun,

For Aye To Be
In Shady Cloister Mew'D,

To Live A Barren Sister
All Your Life,

Chanting Faint Hymns
To The Cold, Fruitless Moon.

Thrice-Blessed They
That Master So Their Blood,

To Undergo Such
Maiden Pilgrimage;

But Earthlier Happy
Is The Rose Distill'D,

Than That Which Withering
On The Virgin Thorn Grows,

Lives And Dies
In Single Blessedness.

So Will I Grow, So Live,
So Die, My Lord,

Ere I Will Yield
My Virgin Patent

Up Unto His Lordship,

Whose Unwished Yoke
My Soul Consents

Not To Give Sovereignty.

Relent, Sweet Hermia:

And, Lysander,
Yield Thy Crazed Title

To My Certain Right.

You Have Her Father'S
Love, Demetrius;

- Do You Marry Him.

Scornful Lysander!

True, He Hath
My Love.

I Am, My Lord,
As Well Derived As He,

As Well Possess'D;

My Love Is More Than His;

And, Which Is More Than
All These Boasts Can Be,

I Am Beloved
Of Beauteous Hermia:

Why Should Not I Then
Prosecute My Right?

Demetrius, I'Ll Avouch It
To His Head,

Made Love To Nedar'S Daughter,
Helena, And Won Her Soul, ;

And She, Sweet Lady,
Dotes, Devoutly Dotes,

Dotes In Idolatry,

Upon This Spotted
And Inconstant Man.

I Must Confess That
I Have Heard So Much,

And With Demetrius Thought
To Have Spoke Thereof;

But, Being Over-Full
Of Self-Affairs,

My Mind Did Lose It.

But, Demetrius, Come;
And Come, Egeus;

You Shall Go With Me,

I Have Some Private
Schooling For You Both.

For You, Fair Hermia,

Look You Arm Yourself
To Fit Your Fancies

To Your Father'S Will, ;

Or Else The Law Of Athens
Yields You Up...

Which By No Means
We May Extenuate...

To Death, Or To Avow
Of Single Life.

Come, My Hippolyta:

What Cheer, My Love?

Demetrius And Egeus,
Go Along:

I Must Employ You In Some
Business Against Our Nuptial

And Confer With You
Of Something

Nearly That
Concerns Yourselves.

- With Duty And Desire
We Follow You.

How Now,
My Love! Why Is Your Cheek So Pale?

How Chance The Roses
There Do Fade So Fast?

Belike For Want Of Rain,

Which I Could
Well Beteem Them

From The Tempest Of My Eyes.

Ay Me! For Aught That
I Could Ever Read,

Could Ever Hear
By Tale Or History,

The Course Of True Love
Never Did Run Smooth;

But, Either It Was
Different In Blood...

O Cross! Too High
To Be Enthrall'D To Low.

Or Else Misgraffed
In Respect Of Years...

O Spite! Too Old
To Be Engaged To Young.

Or Else It Stood Upon
The Choice Of Friends...

O Hell! To Choose Love
By Another'S Eyes.

Or, If There Were
A Sympathy In Choice,

War, Death, Or Sickness
Did Lay Siege To It,

Making It Momentany
As A Sound,

Swift As A Shadow,
Short As Any Dream, ;

Brief As The Lightning In
The Collied Night, That, In A Spleen,

Unfolds Both
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.

If Then True Lovers
Have Been Ever Cross'D,

It Stands As An Edict
In Destiny:

Then Let Us Teach
Our Trial Patience,

Because It Is
A Customary Cross,

As Due To Love As Thoughts
And Dreams And Sighs,

Wishes And Tears,
Poor Fancy'S Followers.

A Good Persuasion:

Therefore, Hear Me,
Hermia.

I Have A Widow Aunt,

A Dowager
Of Great Revenue,

And She Hath No Child:

From Athens Is Her House
Remote 7 Leagues;

And She Respects Me
As Her Only Son.

There, Gentle Hermia,
May I Marry Thee;

And To That Place
The Sharp Athenian Law

Cannot Pursue Us.

If Thou Lovest Me Then,

Steal Forth Thy Father'S
House To-Morrow Night;

And In The Wood,

A League
Without The Town,

Where I Did Meet Thee
Once With Helena,

To Do Observance
To A Morn Of May,

There Will I Stay
For Thee.

My Good Lysander!

I Swear To Thee,
By Cupid'S Strongest Bow,

By His Best Arrow
With The Golden Head,

By The Simplicity
Of Venus' Doves,

By That Which Knitteth Souls
And Prospers Loves,

By All The Vows That
Ever Men Have Broke,

In Number More Than Ever
Women Spoke,

In That Same Place
Thou Hast Appointed Me,

To-Morrow Truly
Will I Meet With Thee.

Keep Promise, Love.

Look, Here Comes Helena.

God Speed Fair Helena!
Whither Away?

Call You Me Fair?
That Fair Again Unsay.

- O Happy Fair!

Your Eyes Are Lode-Stars;

And Your Tongue'S
Sweet Air More Tuneable

Than Lark To Shepherd'S Ear,

When Wheat Is Green,
When Hawthorn Buds Appear.

- O, Were Favor So,

Yours Would I Catch,
Fair Hermia, Ere I Go;

My Ear Should Catch Your Voice,
My Eye Your Eye,

My Tongue Should Catch
Your Tongue'S Sweet Melody.

Were The World Mine,
Demetrius Being Bated,

The Rest I'D Give
To Be To You Translated.

O, Teach Me How You Look,
And With What Art

You Sway The Motion Of
Demetrius' Heart.

- He No More
Shall See My Face;

Lysander And Myself
Will Fly This Place.

Helen, To You Our Minds
We Will Unfold:

To-Morrow Night,
When Phoebe Doth Behold

Her Silver Visage
In The Watery Glass,

Decking With Liquid Pearl
The Bladed Grass,

A Time That Lovers' Flights
Doth Still Conceal,

Through Athens' Gates
Have We Devised To Steal.

And In The Wood,
Where Often You And I

Upon Faint Primrose-Beds
Were Wont To Lie,

Emptying Our Bosoms
Of Their Counsel Sweet,

There My Lysander
And Myself Shall Meet;

Farewell, Sweet Playfellow:
Pray Thou For Us;

And Good Luck
Grant Thee Thy Demetrius!

Keep Word, Lysander:
We Must Starve Our Sight

From Lovers' Food
Till Morrow Deep Midnight.

I Will, My Hermia.

Helena, Adieu:

As You On Him,
Demetrius Dote On You!

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:

And As He Errs, Doting On
Hermia'S Eyes,

So I, Admiring Of His Qualities:

Things Base And Vile,
Holding No Quantity,

Love Can Transpose
To Form And Dignity:

Love Looks Not With The Eyes,
But With The Mind;

And Therefore Is
Wing'D Cupid Painted Blind:

As Waggish Boys In Game
Themselves Forswear,

So The Boy Love
Is Perjured Every Where:

For Ere Demetrius
Look'D On Hermia'S Eyne,

He Hail'D 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.

I Will Go Tell Him
Of Fair Hermia'S Flight:

Then To The Wood Will He
To-Morrow Night Pursue Her;

And For This Intelligence
If I Have Thanks,

It Is A Dear Expense:

But Herein Mean I
To Enrich My Pain,

To Have His Sight
Thither And Back Again.

Is All Our Company Here?

You Were Best To Call
Them Generally,

Man By Man,
According To The Scrip.

Here Is The Scroll
Of Every Man'S Name,

Which Is Thought Fit,
Through All Athens,

To Play In Our Interlude

Before The Duke
And The Duchess,

On His Wedding-Day
At Night.

First,
Good Peter Quince,

Say What The Play
Treats On,

Then Read The Names
Of The Actors,

And So Grow To A Point.

Marry, Our Play Is,
The Most Lamentable Comedy,

And Most Cruel Death
Of Pyramus And Thisby.

A Very Good Piece Of Work,
I Assure You, And A Merry.

Now, Good Peter Quince,

Call Forth The Actors
By The Scroll.

Masters, Spread Yourselves.

Answer As I Call You.

Nick Bottom, The Weaver.

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.

That Will Ask Some Tears

In The True Performing
Of It:

If 1 Do It,
Let The Audience Look To Their Eyes;

I Will Move Storms,

I Will Condole
In Some Measure.

To The Rest.:

- Fr...

I Could
Play Ercles Rarely,

Or A Part To Tear A Cat
In, To Make All Split.

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.

This Was Lofty!

Now Name The Rest
Of The Players.

This Is Ercles'
Vein, A Tyrant'S Vein; Fr...

A Lover
Is More Condoling.

Francis Flute,
The Bellows-Mender.

Here, Peter Quince.

Flute, You Must
Take Thisby On You.

What Is Thisby?
A Wandering Knight?

It Is The Lady
That Pyramus Must Love.

Nay, Faith, Let Me Not
Play A Woman;

I Have A Beard Coming.

- You Shall Play It In A Mask,

And You May Speak
As Small As You Will.

An I May Hide My Face,
Let Me Play Thisby Too.

I'Ll Speak In A Monstrous Little Voice.

'Thisne, Thisne;'

'Ah, Pyramus,
My Lover Dear!

Thy Thisby Dear,
And Lady Deary'

No, No;
You Must Play Pyramus:

And, Flute, You Thisby.

Well, Proceed.

Robin Starveling,
The Tailor.

Here, Peter Quince.

Robin Starveling, You Must
Play Thisby'S Mother.

Tom Snout, The Tinker.

Here, Peter Quince.

You, Pyramus' Father:
Myself, Thisby'S Father:

Snug, The Joiner;
You, The Lion'S Part:

And, I Hope,
Here Is A Play Fitted.

Have You
The Lion'S Part Written?

Pray, If It Be, Give It Me,

For I Am Slow Of Study.

You May
Do It Extempore,

For It Is Nothing
But Roaring.

- Let Me Play
The Lion Too:

I Will Roar,
So That I Will

Do Any Man'S Heart
Good To Hear Me;

I Will Roar, That I Will Make The Duke
Say

'Let Him Roar Again,
Let Him Roar Again.'

An You Should
Do It Too Terribly,

You Would Fright
The Duchess And The Ladies,

That They Would Shriek;

And That Were Enough
To Hang Us All.

All That Would Hang Us...

Every Mother'S Son.

That Would Hang Us.

I Grant You, Friends,
If We Should

Fright The Ladies
Out Of Their Wits,

They Would Have
No More Discretion

- But I Will

Aggravate My Voice
So That I Will Roar You

As Gently As Any
Sucking Dove;

I Will Roar You An
'Twere Any Nightingale.

Ooohoooooh!

You Can Play No Part
But Pyramus.

For Pyramus Is
A Sweet-Faced Man;

A Proper Man,
As One Shall See In A Summer'S Day;

A Most Lovely
Gentleman-Like Man:

Therefore You Must
Needs Play Pyramus.

Well, I Will
Undertake It.

What Beard Were I
Best To Play It In?

Why, What You Will.

I Will Discharge It In Either

Your Straw-Color Beard,
Your Orange-Tawny Beard,

Your Purple-In-Grain Beard,

Or Your French-Crown-Color
Beard, Your Perfect Yellow.

Some Of Your French Crowns
Have No Hair At All,

And Then You Will
Play Bare-Faced.

But, Masters,
Here Are Your Parts:

And I Am To Entreat You,
Request You And Desire You,

To Con Them
By To-Morrow Night;

And Meet Me
In The Palace Wood,

A Mile Without The Town,
By Moonlight;

There Will We Rehearse,
For If We Meet In The City,

We Shall Be
Dogged With Company,

And Our Devices Known.

In The Meantime I Will Draw
A Bill Of Properties,

Such As Our Play Wants.

I Pray You, Fail Me Not.

We Will Meet, ;
And There We May Rehearse

Most Obscenely And Courageously.

Take Pains;
- Adieu.

At The Duke'S Oak
We Meet.

Enough; Hold Or Cut
Bow-Strings.

How Now, Spirit!
Whither Wander You?

Over Hill, Over Dale,
Thorough Bush, Thorough Brier,

Over Park, Over Pale,
Thorough Flood, Thorough Fire,

I Do Wander Everywhere,

Swifter Than
The Moon'S Sphere;

And I Serve The Fairy Queen,

Oh... To Dew Her Orbs Upon The Green.

The Cowslips Tall
Her Pensioners Be:

In Their Gold Coats
Spots You See;

Those Be Rubies,
Fairy Favors,

In Those Freckles
Live Their Savors:

I Must Go Seek
Some Dewdrops Here

And Hang A Pearl
In Every Cowslip'S Ear.

Farewell,
Thou Lob Of Spirits; I'Ll Be Gone:

Our Queen And All Her Elves
Come Here Anon.

The King Doth Keep His
Revels Here To-Night:

Take Heed The Queen Come
Not Within His Sight;

For Oberon Is Passing
Fell And Wrath,

Because That She
As Her Attendant

Hath A Lovely Boy,
Stolen From An Indian King;

She Never Had So Sweet
A Changeling;

And Jealous Oberon
Would Have

The Child Knight
Of His Train,

To Trace
The Forests Wild;

But She Perforce
Withholds The Loved Boy,

Crowns Him With Flowers

And Makes Him
All Her Joy:

And Now They Never Meet
In Grove Or Green,

By Fountain Clear,
Or Spangled Starlight Sheen,

But, They Do Square,

That All Their Elves
For Fear

Creep Into Acorn-Cups
And Hide Them There.

Either I Mistake Your Shape
And Making Quite,

Or Else You Are That
Shrewd And Knavish Sprite

Call'D Robin Goodfellow:

Are Not You He That Frights
The Maidens Of The Villagery;

Those That Hobgoblin
Call You And Sweet Puck,

You Do Their Work, And They
Shall Have Good Luck:

Are Not You He?

Thou Speak'St Aright;

I Am That Merry Wanderer
Of The Night.

I Jest To Oberon
And Make Him Smile

When I A Fat And Bean-Fed Horse Beguile,

Neighing In Likeness
Of A Filly Foal.:

And Sometime Lurk I
In A Gossip'S Bowl,

In Very Likeness
Of A Roasted Crab,

And When She Drinks,
Against Her Lips I Bob

And On Her Wither'D
Dewlap Pour The Ale.

The Wisest Aunt, Telling
The Saddest Tale,

Sometime For 3-Foot
Stool Mistaketh Me;

Then Slip I From Her
Bum, Down Topples She,

And 'Tailor' Cries,
And Falls Into A Cough;

And Then The Whole
Quire Hold Their Hips And Laugh,

And Waxen In
Their Mirth And Neeze

And Swear A Merrier Hour
Was Never Wasted There.

Here Comes Oberon.

And Here My Mistress.
Would That He Were Gone!

Ill Met By Moonlight,
Proud Titania.

What, Jealous Oberon!

Fairies, Skip Hence:
I Have Forsworn His Bed And Company.

Tarry, Rash Wanton:
Am Not I Thy Lord?

Then I Must Be Thy Lady:

But I Know When Thou Hast
Stolen Away From Fairy Land,

And In The Shape Of Corin
Sat All Day,

Playing On Pipes Of Corn

And Versing Love
To Amorous Phillida.

Why Art Thou Here,

Come From The Farthest
Steppe Of India?

But That, Forsooth,
The Bouncing Amazon,

Your Buskin'D Mistress
And Your Warrior Love,

To Theseus Must Be Wedded,

And You Come
To Give Their Bed

Joy And Prosperity.

How Canst Thou Thus
For Shame, Titania,

Glance At My Credit
With Hippolyta,

Knowing I Know
Thy Love To Theseus?

Didst Thou Not Lead Him
Through The Glimmering Night

From Perigenia,
Whom He Ravished?

And Make Him With Fair
Aegle Break His Faith,

With Ariadne
And Antiopa?

These Are The Forgeries
Of Jealousy:

And Never, Since The Middle
Summer'S Spring,

Met We On Hill,
In Dale, Forest Or Mead,

By Paved Fountain
Or By Rushy Brook,

Or In The Beached Margent
Of The Sea,

To Dance Our Ringlets
To The Whistling Wind,

But With Thy Brawls

Thou Hast Disturb'D
Our Sport.

Therefore The Winds,
Piping To Us

In Vain, As In Revenge,

Have Suck'D 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
Stretch'D His Yoke In Vain,

The Ploughman Lost His Sweat,

And The Green Corn
Hath Rotted

Ere His Youth
Attain'D A Beard;

The Fold Stands Empty
In The Drowned Field,

And Crows Are Fatted
With The Murrion Flock;

The Nine Men'S Morris
Is Fill'D Up With Mud,

And The Quaint Mazes
In The Wanton Green

For Lack Of Tread
Are Undistinguishable:

The Human Mortals
Want Their Winter Here;

No Night Is Now
With Hymn Or Carol Blest:

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:

Hoary-Headed Frosts Far In
The Fresh Lap Of The Crimson Rose,

And On Old Hiems'
Thin And Icy Crown

An Odorous Chaplet
Of Sweet Summer Buds

Is, As In Mockery, Set:

The Spring, The Summer,

The Childing Autumn,
Angry Winter,

Change Their Wonted Liveries,

And The Mazed World,

By Their Increase,

Now 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?

I Do But Beg A Little
Changeling Boy,

To Be My Henchman.

Set Your Heart At Rest:

The Fairy Land Buys
Not The Child Of Me.

His Mother Was A Votaress
Of My Order:

And, In The Spiced
Indian Air, By Night,

Full Often Hath She
Gossip'D By My Side,

And Sat With Me
On Neptune'S Yellow Sands,

Marking The Embarked Traders
On The Flood,

When We Have Laugh'D
To See The Sails Conceive

And Grow Big-Bellied
With The Wanton Wind;

Which She, With Pretty And With
Swimming Gait Following...

Her Womb Then Rich
With My Young Squire...

Would Imitate,
And Sail Upon The Land,

To Fetch Me Trifles,
And Return Again,

As From A Voyage,
Rich With Merchandise.

But She, Being Mortal,
Of That Boy Did Die;

And For Her Sake
Do I Rear Up Her Boy,

And For Her Sake
I Will Not Part With Him.

How Long Within This
Wood Intend You Stay?

Perchance Till After
Theseus' Wedding-Day.

If You Will Patiently
Dance In Our Round

And See Our Moonlight Revels,
Go With Us;

If Not, Shun Me,

And I Will
Spare Your Haunts.

Give Me That Boy, And I
Will Go With Thee.

Not For Thy
Fairy Kingdom.

Fairies, Away!
We Shall Chide Downright,

If I Longer Stay.

Well, Go Thy Way:

Thou Shalt Not From This Grove

Till I Torment Thee
For This Injury.

My Gentle Puck, Come Hither.

Thou Rememberest 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 Their Spheres,

To Hear
The Sea-Maid'S Music.

I Remember.

That Very Time I Saw,

But Thou Couldst Not,

Flying Between
The Cold Moon And The Earth,

Cupid All Arm'D:

A Certain Aim He Took At
A Fair Vestal Throned By The West,

And Loosed
His Love-Shaft Smartly From His Bow,

As It Should Pierce
100,000 Hearts;

But I Might See Young
Cupid'S Fiery Shaft

Quench'D In The Chaste
Beams Of The Watery Moon,

And The Imperial
Votaress Passed On,

In Maiden Meditation,
Fancy-Free.

Yet Mark'D I Where
The Bolt Of Cupid Fell:

It Fell Upon A Little
Western Flower,

Before Milk-White,

Now Purple
With Love'S Wound,

And Maidens Call It
Love-In-Idleness.

Fetch Me That Flower;
The Herb I Shew'D Thee Once:

The Juice Of It On
Sleeping Eye-Lids Laid

Will Make Or Man
Or Woman Madly Dote Upon

The Next Live Creature
That It Sees.

Fetch Me This Herb;
And Be Thou Here Again

Ere The Leviathan
Can Swim A League.

I'Ll Put A Girdle Round About
The Earth In 40 Minutes.

Having Once This Juice,
I'Ll Watch Titania When She Is Asleep,

And Drop The Liquor Of It
In Her Eyes.

The Next Thing Then
She Waking Looks Upon,

Be It On Lion, Bear, Or Wolf,

Or Bull, On Meddling Monkey,
Or On Busy Ape,

She Shall Pursue It
With The Soul Of Love:

And Ere I Take This Charm
From Off Her Sight,

As I Can Take It
With Another Herb,

I'Ll Make Her Render Up
Her Page To Me.

But Who Comes Here?

I Am Invisible; And I Will
Overhear Their Conference.

I Love Thee Not,
Therefore Pursue Me Not.

Where Is Lysander
And Fair Hermia?

The One I'Ll Slay,
The Other Slayeth Me.

Thou Told'St Me They Were
Stolen Unto This Wood;

And Here Am I,
And Wode Within This Wood,

Because I Cannot
Meet My Hermia.

Hence, Get Thee Gone,
And Follow Me No More.

I Am Your Spaniel;

And, Demetrius,
The More You Beat Me,

I Will Fawn On You:

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.

What Worser Place Can I
Beg In Your Love...

And Yet A Place Of
High Respect With Me...

Than To Be Used
As You Use Your Dog?

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;

To Trust The Opportunity
Of Night

And The Ill Counsel
Of A Desert Place

With The Rich Worth
Of Your Virginity.

Your Virtue
Is My Privilege:

For That It Is Not Night
When I Do See Your Face,

Therefore I Think
I Am Not In The Night;

Nor Doth This Wood
Lack Worlds Of Company,

For You In My Respect
Are All The World:

Then How Can It Be Said
I Am Alone,

When All The World
Is Here To Look On Me?

I'Ll Run From Thee
And Hide Me In The Brakes,

And Leave Thee To
The Mercy Of Wild Beasts.

The Wildest Hath Not
Such A Heart As You.

- Oh, 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.

Ay, In The Temple,
In The Town,

The Field,
You Do Me Mischief.

Fie, Demetrius!

Your Wrongs Do Set
A Scandal On My Sex:

We Cannot Fight For
Love, As Men May Do;

We Should Be Wood
And Were Not Made To Woo.

I'Ll Follow Thee

And Make A Heaven
Of Hell,

To Die Upon The Hand
I Love So Well.

Fare Thee Well, Nymph:

Ere He Do Leave This Grove,

Thou Shalt Fly Him
And He Shall Seek Thy Love.

Welcome, Wanderer.
Hast Thou The Flower There?

Ay, There It Is.

I Pray Thee, Give It Me.

I Know A Bank Where
The Wild Thyme Blows,

Where Oxlips
And The Nodding Violet Grows,

Quite Over-Canopied
With Luscious Woodbine,

With Sweet Musk-Roses
And With Eglantine:

There Sleeps Titania
Sometime Of The Night,

Lull'D In These Flowers
With Dances And Delight;

And There The Snake
Throws Her Enamell'D Skin,

Weed Wide Enough
To Wrap A Fairy In:

And With The Juice Of This
I'Ll Streak Her Eyes,

And Make Her Full
Of Hateful Fantasies.

Take Thou Some Of It,
And Seek Through This Grove:

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

By The Athenian Garments
He Hath On.

Effect It With Some Care,

That He May Prove
More Fond On Her

Than She Upon Her Love:

And Look Thou Meet Me
Ere The First Cock Crow.

Fear Not, My Lord,
Your Servant Shall Do So.

Come, Now A Roundel
And A Fairy Song;

Then, For The Third Part
Of A Minute, Hence;

Some To Kill Cankers
In The Musk-Rose Buds,

Some War With Rere-Mice
For Their Leathern Wings,

To Make My
Small Elves Coats,

And Some Keep Back
The Clamorous Owl

That Nightly Hoots And Wonders
At Our Quaint Spirits.

Sing Me Now Asleep;

Then To Your Offices
And Let Me Rest.

♪ You Spotted Snakes
With Double Tongue ♪

♪ Thorny Hedgehogs,
Be Not Seen; ♪

♪ Newts And Blind-Worms,
Do No Wrong ♪

♪ Come Not Near
Our Fairy Queen ♪

♪ Philomel, With Melody ♪

♪ Sing In Our Sweet Lullaby; ♪

♪ Lulla, Lulla, Lullaby,
Lulla, Lulla, Lullaby: ♪

♪ Never Harm,
Nor Spell Nor Charm ♪

♪ Come Our Lovely Lady Nigh; ♪

♪ So, Good Night, Good Night,
Good Night With Lullaby ♪

♪ Lulla, Lulla, Lullaby ♪

♪ Weaving Spiders,
Come Not Here; ♪

♪ Hence, You Long-Legg'D
Spinners, Hence! ♪

♪ Beetles Black,
Approach Not Near; ♪

♪ Worm Nor Snail,
Do No Offence ♪

♪ Philomel, With Melody ♪

♪ Sing In Our Sweet Lullaby; ♪

♪ Lulla, Lulla, Lullaby,
Lulla, Lulla, Lullaby: ♪

♪ Never Harm,
Nor Spell Nor Charm ♪

♪ Come Our Lovely Lady Nigh; ♪

♪ So, Good Night, Good Night,
Good Night With Lullaby ♪

♪ Lulla, Lulla, Lullaby ♪

Hence, Away!
Now All Is Well:

One Aloof Stand Sentinel.

What Thou Seest
When Thou Dost Wake,

Do It For
Thy True-Love Take,

Love And Languish
For His Sake:

Be It Ounce,
Or Cat, Or Bear,

Pard, Or Boar
With Bristled Hair,

In Thy Eye
That Shall Appear

When Thou Wakest,
It Is Thy Dear:

Wake When Some
Vile Thing Is Near.

Fair Love, You Faint
With Wandering In The Wood;

And To Speak Troth,
I Have Forgot Our Way:

We'Ll Rest Us, Hermia,
If You Think It Good,

And Tarry For
The Comfort Of The Day.

Be It So, Lysander:
Find You Out A Bed;

For I Upon This Bank
Will Rest My Head.

One Turf Shall Serve
As Pillow For Us Both;

One Heart, One Bed,
Two Bosoms And One Troth.

Nay, Good Lysander;
For My Sake, My Dear,

Lie Further Off Yet,
Do Not Lie So Near.

♪ , Take The Sense, Sweet,
Of My Innocence! ♪

Love Takes The Meaning
In Love'S Conference.

I Mean, That My Heart
Unto Yours Is Knit

So That But One Heart
We Can Make Of It;

Two Bosoms Interchained
With An Oath;

So Then Two Bosoms
And A Single Troth.

Then By Your Side
No Bed-Room Me Deny;

For Lying So, Hermia,
I Do Not Lie.

Lysander Riddles
Very Prettily:

Now Much Beshrew
My Manners And My Pride,

If Hermia Meant To Say
Lysander Lied.

But, Gentle Friend,
For Love And Courtesy

Lie Further Off;
In Human Modesty,

Such Separation
As May Well Be Said

Becomes A Virtuous
Bachelor And A Maid,

So Far Be Distant; And,
Good Night, Sweet Friend:

Thy Love Ne'Er Alter
Till Thy Sweet Life End!

Amen, Amen, To That
Fair Prayer, Say I;

And So End Life
When I End Loyalty!

Here Is My Bed:

Sleep Give Thee
All His Rest!

With Half That Wish
The Wisher'S Eyes Be Press'D!

Through The Forest Have I Gone.

But Athenian Found I None,

On Whose Eyes I Might Approve

This Flower'S Force
In Stirring Love.

Night And Silence.

Who Is Here?

Weeds Of Athens He Doth Wear:

This Is He,
My Master Said,

Despised The Athenian Maid;

And Here The Maiden,
Sleeping Sound,

On The Dank
And Dirty Ground.

Pretty Soul!

She Durst Not Lie
Near This Lack-Love,

This Kill-Courtesy.

Churl, Upon Thy Eyes
I Throw

All The Power
This Charm Doth Owe.

When Thou Wakest,
Let Love Forbid

Sleep His Seat
On Thy Eyelid:

So Awake When I Am Gone;

For I Must Now To Oberon.

Stay, Though Thou Kill Me,
Sweet Demetrius.

I Charge Thee, Hence,
And Do Not Haunt Me Thus.

O Wilt Thou Darkling Leave Me? Do Not
So.

Stay, On Thy Peril:
I Alone Will Go.

O, I Am Out Of Breath
In This Fond Chase!

The More My Prayer,
The Lesser Is My Grace.

Happy Is Hermia,
Wheresoe'Er She Lies;

For She Hath Blessed
And Attractive Eyes.

How Came Her Eyes So Bright?

- If So, My Eyes

Are Oftener Wash'D Than Hers.

No, No, I Am As Ugly As A Bear;

For Beasts That Meet Me
Run Away For Fear:

Therefore No Marvel
Though Demetrius Do,

As A Monster Fly
My Presence Thus.

Lysander!

On The Ground!

Dead? Or Asleep?

I See No Blood,
No Wound.

Lysander If You Live, Good Sir, Awake.

And Run Through Fire
I Will For Thy Sweet Sake.

Transparent Helena!

Nature Shows Art,

That Through Thy Bosom
Makes Me See Thy Heart.

Where Is Demetrius?

O, How Fit A Word
Is That Vile Name

To Perish On My Sword!

Do Not Say So, Lysander;
Say Not So

What Though He Love Your Hermia? Lord,
What Though?

- 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?

Wherefore Was I To This
Keen Mockery Born?

When At Your Hands Did I
Deserve This Scorn?

Good Troth,
You Do Me Wrong,

Good Sooth, You Do,
In Such Disdainful Manner Me To Woo.

But Fare You Well.:

Perforce I Must Confess

I Thought You Lord Of
More True Gentleness.

O, That A Lady,
Of One Man Refused.

Should Of Another
Therefore Be Abused!

She Sees Not Hermia.
Hermia, Sleep Thou There:

And Never Mayst Thou
Come Lysander Near!

For As A Surfeit
Of The Sweetest Things

The Deepest Loathing
To The Stomach Brings,

Or As The Heresies
That Men Do Leave

Are Hated Most Of Those
They Did Deceive,

So Thou, My Surfeit
And My Heresy,

Of All Be Hated,
But The Most Of Me!

And, All My Powers,
Address Your Love And Might

To Honor Helen
And To Be Her Knight!

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:

Methought A Serpent
Eat My Heart Away,

And You Sat Smiling
At His Cruel Pray.

Lysander!

What, Removed?

Lysander! Lord!

What, Out Of Hearing?

Gone? No Sound, No Word?

Alack, Where Are You?

Speak, An If You Hear;

Speak, Of All Loves!
I Swoon Almost With Fear.

No?

Then I Well Perceive
You All Not Nigh

Either Death Or You
I'Ll Find Immediately.

Are We All Met?

Pat, Pat; And Here'S

A Marvelous
Convenient Place

For Our Rehearsal.

This Green Plot
Shall Be Our Stage,

This Hawthorn-Brake
Our Tiring-House;

And We Will
Do It In Action

As We Will Do It
Before The Duke.

Peter Quince...

What Sayest Thou,
Bully Bottom?

There Are Things In This
Comedy Of Pyramus And Thisby

That Will Never Please.

First, Pyramus Must Draw
A Sword To Kill Himself;

Which The Ladies
Cannot Abide.

How Answer You That?

By'R Lakin,
A Parlous Fear.

I Believe We Must
Leave The Killing Out,

When All Is Done.

Not A Whit:

I Have A Device
To Make All Well.

Write Me A Prologue;
And Let The Prologue Seem To Say,

We Will Do No Harm
With Our Swords,

And That Pyramus
Is Not Killed Indeed:;

And, For The More
Better Assurance,

Tell Them That
I, Pyramus,

Am Not Pyramus,
But Bottom The Weaver:

This Will Put Them
Out Of Fear.

Well, We Will Have
Such A Prologue;

And It Shall Be
Written In 8 And 6.

No, Make It Two More;
Let It Be Written In 8 And 8.

Will Not The Ladies
Be Afeard Of The Lion?

I Fear It,
I Promise You.

Masters, You Ought
To Consider With Yourselves:

To Bring In...
God Shield Us!

A Lion Among Ladies,
Is A Most Dreadful Thing;

For There Is Not
A More Fearful Wild-Fowl

Than Your Lion Living;

And We Ought To Look To 'T.

Therefore Another Prologue
Must Tell He Is Not A Lion.

Nay, You Must
Name His Name,

And Half His Face Must Be
Seen Through The Lion'S Neck:

And He Himself
Must Speak Through,

Saying Thus, Or To
The Same Defect...

"Ladies'... Or 'Fair-Ladies...
I Would Wish You, ;

...Or 'I Would
Request You, '

...Or 'I Would
Entreat You...

Not To Fear, Not To Tremble:
My Life For Yours.

If You Think
I Come Hither As A Lion,

It Were Pity Of My Life:

No, I Am No Such Thing;

I Am A Man
As Other Men Are; ♪

And There Indeed
Let Him Name His Name,

And Tell Them Plainly
He Is Snug The Joiner.

Well It Shall Be So.

But There Is
Two Hard Things;

That Is,
To Bring The Moonlight Into A Chamber, ;

For, You Know,
Pyramus And Thisby Meet By Moonlight.

Doth The Moon Shine That Night
We Play Our Play?

A Calendar, A Calendar!
Look In The Almanac, ;

Find Out Moonshine,
Find Out Moonshine.

Yes, It Doth Shine
That Night.

Why, Then May You
Leave A Casement

Of The Great Chamber Window,
Where We Play, Open,

And The Moon May Shine In
At The Casement.

Ay; Or Else
One Must Come In

With A Bush Of Thorns And A Lanthorn,

And Say He Comes To Disfigure, Or
Present,

The Person
Of Moonshine.

Then, There Is
Another Thing:

We Must Have A Wall

In The Great
Chamber;

For Pyramus And Thisby Says The Story,

Did Talk Through
The Chink Of A Wall.

You Can Never Bring In A Wall.

What Say You, Bottom?

Some Man Or Other
Must Present Wall.:

And Let Him Have Some Plaster,
Or Some Loam,

Or Some Rough-Cast About Him,
To Signify Wall, ;

And Let Him Hold
His Fingers Thus,

And Through That Cranny
Shall Pyramus And Thisby Whisper.

If That May Be,
Then All Is Well.

Come, Sit Down,
Every Mother'S Son,

And Rehearse
Your Parts.

Pyramus, You Begin:

When You Have Spoken
Your Speech,

Enter Into
That Brake:

And So Every One According To His Cue.

What Hempen Home-Spuns
Have We Swaggering Here,

So Near The Cradle
Of Our Fairy Queen?

What, A Play Toward!

I'Ll Be An Auditor;

An Actor Too, Perhaps,
If I See Cause.

Speak, Pyramus.

Thisby, Stand Forth.

Thisby, The Flowers Of
Odious Savors Sweet...

- Odors.

Eh?
Odors.

...Odors Savors Sweet:

So Hath Thy Breath,
My Dearest Thisby Dear.

But Hark, A Voice!

Stay Thou
But Here Awhile,

And By And By I Will
To Thee Appear.

A Stranger Pyramus Than E'Er Played
Here.

Must I Speak Now?

Ay, Marry, Must You, ;

For You Must
Understand He Goes

But To See A Noise
That He Heard,

And Is To Come Again.

Most Radiant Pyramus,
Most Lily-White Of Hue,

Of Color Like The Red Rose
On Triumphant Brier,

Most Brisky Juvenal
And Eke Most Lovely Jew,

As True As Truest Horse
That Yet Would Never Tire,

I'Ll Meet Thee, Pyramus,
At Ninny'S Tomb.

'Ninus' Tomb, ' Man:

Why, You Must Not
Speak That Yet, ;

That You Answer
To Pyramus:

You Speak All Your Part
At Once,

Cues And All.

- Your Cue Is Past, ;

It Is, 'Never Tire.'

As True As Truest Horse,
That Yet Would Never Tire.

If I Were Fair, Thisby,
I Were Only Thine.

- O Monstrous!
O Strange!

We Are Haunted.

Pray, Masters!
Fly, Masters!

Help!
Help!

I'Ll Follow You, I'Ll Lead You
About A Round,

Through Bog, Through Bush,
Through Brake, Through Brier:

Sometime A Horse I'Ll Be,
Sometime A Hound, A Hog,

A Headless Bear,
Sometime A Fire;

And Neigh, And Bark, And Grunt,
And Roar, And Burn,

Like Horse, Hound, Hog, Bear,
Fire, At Every Turn.

Why Do They Run Away?

This Is A Knavery Of Them
To Make Me Afeard.

O Bottom,
Thou Art Changed!

What Do I See
On Thee?

What Do You See?

You See An Asshead
Of Your Own, Do You?

Bless Thee, Bottom!
Bless Thee!

Thou Art Translated.

- This Is To Make An Ass Of Me;

To Fright Me, If They Could.

But I Will Not Stir From
This Place, Do What They Can:

I Will Walk Up And Down Here,
And I Will Sing,

That They Shall Hear
I Am Not Afraid.

♪ The Ousel Cock
So Black Of Hue ♪

♪ With Orange-Tawny Bill ♪

♪ The Throstle With
His Note So True ♪

♪ The Wren With
Little Quill... ♪

What Angel Wakes Me
From My Flowery Bed?

♪ The Finch, The Sparrow
And The Lark ♪

♪ The Plain-Song
Cuckoo Gray ♪

♪ Whose Note Full
Many A Man Doth Mark ♪

♪ And Dares Not Answer Nay... ♪

I Pray Thee, Gentle
Mortal, Sing Again:

Mine Ear Is Much
Enamor'D 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 The Truth,

Reason And Love Keep Little
Company Together Now-A-Days;

The More The Pity
That Some Honest Neighbors

Will Not Make Them Friends.

Nay, I Can Gleek
Upon Occasion.

Thou Art As Wise
As Thou Art Beautiful.

Not So, Neither:

But If I Had Wit Enough
To Get Out Of This Wood,

I Have Enough
To Serve Mine Own Turn.

Out Of This Wood
Do Not Desire To Go:

Thou Shalt Remain Here,
Whether Thou Wilt Or No.

I Am A Spirit
Of No Common Rate;

The Summer Still Doth
Tend Upon My State;

And I Do Love Thee:

Therefore, Go With Me;

I'Ll Give Thee Fairies
To Attend On Thee,

And They Shall Fetch
Thee Jewels From The Deep,

And Sing While Thou On
Pressed Flowers Dost Sleep;

And I Will Purge
Thy Mortal Grossness So

That Thou Shalt
Like An Airy Spirit Go.

Peaseblossom! Cobweb!
Moth! And Mustardseed!

Ready.
And I

And I
And I

- Where Shall We Go?

Be Kind And Courteous
To This Gentleman;

Hop In His Walks
And Gambol In His Eyes;

Feed Him With Apricocks
And Dewberries,

With Purple Grapes,
Green Figs, And Mulberries;

The Honey-Bags Steal
From The Humble-Bees,

And For Night-Tapers
Crop Their Waxen Thighs

And Light Them At
The Fiery Glow-Worm'S Eyes,

To Have My Love To Bed
And To Arise;

And Pluck The Wings
From Painted Butterflies

To Fan The Moonbeams
From His Sleeping Eyes:

Nod To Him, Elves,
And Do Him Courtesies.

Hail, Mortal!

Hail!
Hail!

Hail!

I Cry Your Worship'S
Mercy, Heartily:

I Beseech Your Worship'S Name.

Cobweb.

I Shall Desire You
Of More Acquaintance,

Good Master Cobweb:

If 1 Cut My Finger,
I Shall Make Bold With You.

Your Name, Honest Gentleman?

Peaseblossom.

I Pray You, Commend Me To Mistress
Squash,
Your Mother,

And To Master Peascod,
Your Father.

Good Master Peaseblossom,
I Shall Desire You

Of More Acquaintance Too.

Your Name,
I Beseech You, Sir?

Mustardseed.

Good Master Mustardseed,
I Know Your Patience Well.:

That Same Cowardly,
Giant-Like Ox-Beef

Hath Devoured Many A Gentleman
Of Your House:

I Promise You Your Kindred
Had Made My Eyes Water Ere Now.

I Desire Your More Acquaintance,
Good Master Mustardseed.

Come, Wait Upon Him;
Lead Him To My Bower.

The Moon Methinks
Looks With A Watery Eye;

And When She Weeps,
Weeps Every Little Flower,

Lamenting Some
Enforced Chastity.

Tie Up My Love'S Tongue
Bring Him Silently.

I Wonder If Titania Be Awaked;

Then, What It Was That
Next Came In Her Eye,

That She Must Dote On
In Extremity.

Here Comes My Messenger.
How Now, Mad Spirit!

What Night-Rule Now
About This Haunted Grove?

My Mistress With
A Monster Is In Love.

Near To Her Close
And Consecrated Bower,

While She Was In Her
Dull And Sleeping Hour,

A Crew Of Patches,
Rude Mechanicals,

That Work For Bread
Upon Athenian Stalls,

Were Met Together
To Rehearse A Play

Intended For Great
Theseus' Nuptial-Day.

The Shallowest
Thick-Skin Of That Barren Sort,

Who Pyramus Presented,
In Their Sport Forsook His Scene

And Enter'D In A Brake

When I Did Him
At This Advantage Take,

An Ass'S Nole
I Fixed On His Head:

Anon His Thisbe
Must Be Answered,

When In That Moment,
So It Came To Pass,

Titania Waked And
Straightway Loved An Ass.

This Falls Out Better
Than I Could Devise.

But Hast Thou Yet Latch'D
The Athenian'S Eyes

With The Love-Juice,
As I Did Bid Thee Do?

I Took Him Sleeping...
That Is Finish'D Too...

And The Athenian Woman
By His Side:

That, When He Waked, Of
Force She Must Be Eyed.

- This Is
The Same Athenian.

This Is The Woman,
But Not This The Man.

O, Why Rebuke You Him
That Loves You So?

Lay Breath So Bitter
On Your Bitter Foe.

Now I But Chide; But
I Should Use Thee Worse,

For Thou, I Fear,
Hast Given Me Cause To Curse,

If Thou Hast Slain
Lysander In His Sleep,

Being O'Er Shoes In Blood,
Plunge In The Deep,

And Kill Me Too.

The Sun Was Not So
True Unto The Day As He To Me:

Would He Have Stolen Away
From Sleeping Hermia?

It Cannot Be But Thou
Hast Murder'D Him;

So Should A Murderer Look,
So Dead, So Grim.

So Should The Murder'D
Look, And So Should I,

Pierced Through
The Heart With Your Stern Cruelty:

Yet You, The Murderer,
Look As Bright, As Clear,

As Yonder Venus In Her
Glimmering Sphere.

What'S This To My Lysander? Where Is He?

Ah, 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.

Hast Thou Slain Him, Then?

Henceforth Be Never
Number'D Among Men!

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.

An If I Could,
What Should I Get Therefore?

A Privilege Never
To See Me More.

And From Thy
Hated Presence Part I So:

See Me No More, Whether He Be Dead Or
No.

There Is No Following Her
In This Fierce Vein:

Here Therefore For A While
I Will Remain.

Thou Hast Mistaken Quite

And Laid The Love-Juice
On Some True-Love'S Sight:

About The Wood Go
Swifter Than The Wind,

And Helena Of Athens
Look Thou Find:

All Fancy-Sick She Is
And Pale Of Cheer,

With Sighs Of Love,

That Costs
The Fresh Blood Dear:

By Some Illusion
See Thou Bring Her Here:

I'Ll Charm His Eyes
Against She Do Appear.

1 Go, 1 Go;
Look How 1 Go,

Swifter Than Arrow
From The Tartar'S Bow.

Flower Of This Purple Dye,

Hit With Cupid'S Archery,

Sink In Apple Of His Eye.

When His Love He Doth Espy,

Let Her Shine As Gloriously

As The Venus Of The Sky.

When Thou Wakest,
If She Be By,

Beg Of Her For Remedy.

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!

- The Noise They Make

Will Cause Demetrius
To Awake.

Then Will Two At Once
Woo One;

That Must Needs
Be Sport Alone;

And Those Things
Do Best Please Me

That Befal Preposterously.

Why Should You Think
That I Should Woo In Scorn?

Scorn And Derision
Never Come In Tears:

Look, When I Vow, I Weep;
And Vows So Born,

In Their Nativity
All Truth Appears.

How Can These Things In Me
Seem Scorn To You,

Bearing The Badge Of Faith,
To Prove Them True?

You Do Advance Your Cunning
More And More.

When Truth Kills Truth,
O Devilish-Holy Fray!

- Will You Give Them O'Er?

Weigh Oath With Oath,
And You Will Nothing Weigh:

Your Vows To Her And Me,
Put In Two Scales,

Will Even Weigh,
And Both As Light As Tales.

I Had No Judgment
When To Her I Swore.

Nor None, In My Mind,
Now You Give Her O'Er.

Demetrius Loves Her,
And He Loves Not You.

O Helena, Goddess,
Nymph, Perfect, Divine!

To What, My Love,
Shall I Compare Thine Eyne?

Crystal Is Muddy. O,
How Ripe In Show Thy Lips,

Those Kissing Cherries,
Tempting Grow!

When Thou Hold'St Up
Thy Hand:

O, Let Me Kiss

This Princess
Of Pure White,

This Seal Of Bliss!

O Spite! O Hell!
I See You All Are Bent

To Set Against Me
For Your Merriment.

If You Were Men,
As Men You Are In Show,

You Would Not Use
A Gentle Lady So;

To Vow, And Swear,
And Superpraise My Parts,

When I Am Sure You Hate Me
With Your Hearts.

You Both Are Rivals,
And Love Hermia;

And Now Both Rivals,
To Mock Helena:

A Trim Exploit,
A Manly Enterprise,

To Conjure Tears Up
In A Poor Maid'S Eyes

With Your Derision!

None Of Noble Sort
Would So Offend A Virgin,

And Extort
A Poor Soul'S Patience,

All To Make You Sport.

You Are Unkind, Demetrius;
Be Not So;

For You Love Hermia;
This You Know I Know:

And Here, With All Good Will,
With All My Heart,

In Hermia'S Love
I Yield You Up My Part;

And Yours Of Helena
To Me Bequeath,

Whom I Do Love
And Will Do Till My Death.

Never Did Mockers
Waste More Idle Breath.

Lysander, Keep Thy Hermia; I Will None:

If E'Er I Loved Her,
All That Love Is Gone.

My Heart To Her But
As Guest-Wise Sojourn'D,

And Now To Helen
Is It Home Return'D,

There To Remain.

Helen, It Is Not So.

Disparage Not The Faith
Thou Dost Not Know,

Lest, To Thy Peril,
Thou Aby It Dear.

Look, Where Thy Love Comes;
Yonder Is Thy Dear.

Dark Night,

That From The Eye
His Function Takes,

The Ear More Quick
Of Apprehension Makes;

Thou Art Not By Mine Eye,
Lysander, Found;

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 My Side?

Lysander'S Love,
That Would Not Let Him Bide,

Fair Helena, Who More Engilds The Night

Than All Yon Fiery Oes
And Eyes Of Light.

Why Seek'St Thou Me?

Could Not This
Make Thee Know,

The Hate I Bear Thee
Made Me Leave Thee So?

You Speak Not
As You Think:

It Cannot Be.

Lo, She Is One
Of This Confederacy!

Now I Perceive They Have
Conjoin'D All Three

To Fashion This False Sport,
In Spite Of Me.

Injurious Hermia!
Most Ungrateful Maid!

Have You Conspired,

Have You
With These Contrived

To Bait Me
With This Foul Derision?

Is All The Counsel
That We Two Have Shared,

The Sisters' Vows,

The Hours That
We Have Spent,

When We Have Chid
The Hasty-Footed Time For Parting Us,

O, Is It All Forgot?

All School-Days' Friendship,
Childhood Innocence?

We, Hermia,
Like Two Artificial Gods,

Have With Our Needles
Created Both One Flower,

Both On One Sampler,
Sitting On One Cushion,

Both Warbling Of One Song,

Both In One Key,

As If Our Hands, Our Sides,
Voices And Minds,

Had Been Incorporate.

So We Grew Together,

Like To A Double Cherry,
Seeming Parted,

But Yet An Union
In Partition;

Two Lovely Berries
Moulded On One Stem;

So, With Two Seeming Bodies,
But One Heart;

Two Of The First,
Like Coats In Heraldry,

Due But To One And Crowned
With One Crest.

And Will You Rent
Our Ancient Love Asunder,

To Join With Men In Scorning
Your Poor Friend?

It Is Not Friendly,
'Tis Not Maidenly:

Our Sex, As Well As I,
May Chide You For It,

Though I Alone
Do Feel The Injury.

I Am Amazed At
Your Passionate Words.

I Scorn You Not:

It Seems That
You Scorn Me.

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, Nymph,
Divine And Rare,

Precious, Celestial?

What Though I Be
Not So In Grace As You,

So Hung Upon With Love,
So Fortunate,

But Miserable Most,
To Love Unloved?

This You Should Pity
Rather Than Despise.

I Understand Not
What You Mean By This.

Ay, Do, Persever,
Counterfeit Sad Looks,

Make Mouths Upon Me
When I Turn My Back;

Wink Each At Other;
Hold The Sweet Jest Up:

This Sport, Well Carried,
Shall Be Chronicled.

If You Have Any Pity,
Grace, Or Manners,

You Would Not Make Me
Such An Argument.

- 'Tis Partly Mine Own Fault;

Which Death Or Absence
Soon Shall Remedy.

Stay, Gentle Helena;
Hear My Excuse:

My Love, My Life,
My Soul, Fair Helena!

O Excellent!

Sweet,
Do Not Scorn Her So.

Helen, I Love Thee;
By My Life, I Do:

I Swear By That Which
I Will Lose For Thee,

To Prove Him False That
Says I Love Thee Not.

I Say I Love Thee
More Than He Can Do.

If Thou Say So, Withdraw,
And Prove It Too.

Quick, Come!

Lysander,
Whereto Tends All This?

Away, You Ethiope!

No, No, Sir:
Seem To Break Loose;

Take On As You Would
Follow,

- You Are A Tame Man,
Go!

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?

What Change Is This?
Sweet Love...

Thy Love!
Out, Tawny Tartar, Out!

Out, Loathed Medicine!
O Hated Potion, Hence!

Do You Not Jest?

Yes, Sooth;
And So Do You.

Demetrius, I Will Keep
My Word With Thee.

- I Would
I Had Your Bond,

For I Perceive A Weak Bond Holds You:

I'Ll Not Trust Your Word.

What, Should I Hurt Her,
Strike Her, Kill Her Dead?

Although I Hate Her,
I'Ll Not Harm Her So.

What, Can You Do Me
Greater Harm Than Hate?

Hate Me! Wherefore?
O Me! What News, My Love!

Am Not I Hermia?
Are Not You Lysander?

I Am As Fair Now
As I Was Erewhile.

Since Night You Loved Me;

Yet Since
Night You Left Me:

Why, Then You Left Me...
O, The Gods Forbid!

In Earnest, Shall I Say?

Ay, By My Life;

And Never Did Desire
To See Thee More.

Therefore
Be Out Of Hope,

Of Question Or Doubt;

'Tis Certain,
Nothing Truer;

'Tis No Jest That 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?

Fine, 'Faith!

Have You No Modesty,
No Maiden Shame,

No Touch Of Bashfulness?

What, Will You Tear Impatient
Answers From My Gentle Tongue?

Fie, Fie! You Counterfeit,
You Puppet, You!

Puppet?!

Why So? Ay,
That Way Goes The Game.

Now I Perceive That
She Hath Made Compare

Between Our Statures;

She Hath
Urged Her Height;

And With Her Personage,
Her Tall Personage,

Her Height, Forsooth,

She Hath Prevail'D
With Him.

And Are You Grown
So High In His Esteem;

Because I Am So Dwarfish
And So Low?

How Low Am I,
Thou Painted Maypole?

Speak;

How Low Am 1?
I Am Not Yet So Low

But That My Nails Can
Reach Unto Thine Eyes.

I Pray You, Though You
Mock Me, Gentlemen,

- I Was Never Curst;

I Have No Gift At All
In Shrewishness;

I Am A Right Maid
For My Cowardice:

Let Her Not Strike Me.
You Perhaps May Think,

Because She Is Something
Lower Than Myself,

That I Can Match Her.

Lower! Hark, Again.

Good Hermia, Do Not Be
So Bitter With Me.

I Evermore
Did Love You, Hermia,

Did Ever
Keep Your Counsels,

Never Wrong'D You;

Save That,
In Love Unto Demetrius,

I Told Him Of Your Stealth Unto This
Wood.

He Follow'D You;
For Love I Follow'D Him;

But He Hath Chid Me
Hence And Threaten'D Me

To Spurn Me, Strike Me,
Nay, To Kill Me Too:

And Now, So You Will
Let Me Quiet Go,

To Athens Will I Bear
My Folly Back

And Follow You
No Further.

Let Me Go:

You See How Simple
And How Fond I Am.

Why, Get You Gone:
Who Is'T That Hinders You?

A Foolish Heart, That I Leave Here
Behind.

What, With Lysander?

With Demetrius!

Be Not Afraid;

She Shall Not
Harm Thee, Helena.

No, Sir, She Shall Not,
Though You Take Her Part.

Oh, When She'S Angry,
She Is Keen And Shrewd!

She Was A Vixen When She Went To School;

And Though She Be But Little,
She Is Fierce.

'Little'
Again! Nothing But 'Low' And 'Little"

Why Will You Suffer Her
To Flout Me Thus?

Let Me Come To Her!

Get You Gone,
You Dwarf;

You Minimus, Of Hindering Knot-Grass
Made;

You Bead, You Acorn.

You Are Too Officious
In Her Behalf

That Scorns
Your Services.

- Speak Not Of Helena;

Take Not Her Part;
For, If Thou Dost Intend

Never So Little
Show Of Love To Her,

Thou Shalt Aby It.

- Now She Holds Me Not;

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.

You, Mistress,
All This Coil Is 'Long Of You:

Nay, Go Not Back.

I Will Not Trust You,
Aye,

Nor Longer Stay
In Your Curst Company.

Your Hands Than Mine
Are Quicker For A Fray,

My Legs Are Longer
Though, To Run Away.

I Am Amazed,
And Know Not What To Say.

- Still Thou Mistakest,

Or Else Committ'St
Thy Knaveries Wilfully.

Believe Me, King Of Shadows, I Mistook.

Did Not You Tell Me
I Should Know The Man

By The Athenian Garments
Be Had On?

And So Far Blameless
Proves My Enterprise,

That I Have 'Nointed
An Athenian'S Eyes;

And So Far Am I Glad
It So Did Sort

As This Their Jangling
I Esteem A Sport.

Thou See'St These Lovers
Seek A Place To Fight:

Hie Therefore, Robin,
Overcast The Night;

The Starry Welkin
Cover Thou Anon

With Drooping Fog
As Black As Acheron,

And Lead These
Testy Rivals So Astray

As One Come Not
Within The Other'S Way.

Like To Lysander
Sometime Frame Thy Tongue,

Then Stir Demetrius Up
With Bitter Wrong;

And Sometime Rail
Thou Like Demetrius;

And From Each Other
Look Thou Lead Them Thus,

Till O'Er Their Brows
Death-Counterfeiting Sleep

With Leaden Legs
And Batty Wings Doth Creep:

Then 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.

When They Next Wake,
All This Derision

Shall Seem A Dream
And Fruitless Vision,

And Back To Athens
Shall The Lovers Wend,

With League Whose Date
Till Death Shall Never End.

Whiles I In This Affair
Do Thee Employ,

I'Ll To My Queen
And Beg Her Indian Boy;

And Then 1 Will
Her Charmed Eye Release

From Monster'S View,

And All Things Shall Be Peace.

My Fairy Lord,

This Must Be Done
With Haste,

For Night'S Swift
Dragons Cut The Clouds Full Fast,

And Yonder Shines
Aurora'S Harbinger;

At Whose Approach,
Ghosts,

Wandering
Here And There,

Troop Home
To Churchyards:

Damned Spirits All,

That In Crossways
And Floods Have Burial,

Already To Their Wormy
Beds Are Gone;

For Fear Lest Day Should
Look Their Shames Upon,

They Willfully Themselves

Exile From Light

And Must For Aye Consort

With Black-Brow'D Night.

But We Are Spirits
Of Another Sort:

I With The Morning'S Love
Have Oft Made Sport,

And, Like A Forester,
The Groves May Tread,

Even Till The Eastern Gate,
All Fiery-Red,

Opening On Neptune
With Fair Blessed Beams,

Turns Into Yellow Gold
His Salt Green Streams.

But, Notwithstanding, Haste;
Make No Delay:

We May Effect This Business
Yet Ere Day.

Up And Down, Up And Down,
I Will Lead Them Up And Down:

I Am Fear'D In Field And Town:

Goblin, Lead Them Up And Down.

Here Comes One.

Where Art Thou,
Proud Demetrius? Speak Thou Now.

Drawn And Ready.
Where Art Thou?

I Will Be
With Thee Straight.

Follow Me, Then,
To Plainer Ground.

- Lysander! Speak Again:

Thou Runaway, Thou Coward, Art Thou
Fled?

Speak! In Some Bush?
Where Dost Thou Hide Thy Head?

Art Thou Bragging
To The Stars,

Telling The Bushes That
Thou Look'St For Wars,

And Wilt Not Come??

Come, Recreant;
Come, Thou Child;

I'Ll Whip Thee With A Rod:

He Is Defiled That
Draws A Sword On Thee.

Yea, Art Thou There?

- We'Ll Try No Manhood Here.

He Goes Before Me
And Still Dares Me On:

When I Come Where He Calls,
Then He Is Gone.

The Villain Is Much
Lighter-Heel'D Than I:

I Follow'D Fast,
But Faster He Did Fly;

But Fallen Am I
In Dark Uneven Way,

And Here Will Rest Me.

Come, Thou Gentle Day!

For If But Once
Thou Show Me Thy Grey Light,

I'Ll Find Demetrius
And Revenge This Spite.

- Ho, Ho, Ho!

Coward,
Why Comest Thou Not?

Abide Me, If Thou Darest; For Well I Wot

Thou Runn'St Before Me,
Shifting Every Place,

And Darest Not Stand,
Nor Look Me In The Face.

Where Art Thou Now?

- I Am Here.

Nay, Then,
Thou Mock'St Me.

Thou Shalt
Buy This Dear,

If Ever I Thy Face
By Daylight See:

Now, Go Thy Way.

Faintness Constraineth Me

To Measure Out My Length
On This Cold Bed.

By Day'S Approach
Look To Be Visited.

- O Weary Night,
O Long And Tedious Night,

Abate Thy Hours!
Shine Comforts From The East,

That I May Back
To Athens By Daylight,

From These That
My Poor Company Detest:

And Sleep, That Sometimes
Shuts Up Sorrow'S Eye,

Steal Me Awhile
From Mine Own Company.

Yet But Three? Come One More;

Two Of Both Kinds Makes Up Four.

Here She Comes,
Curst And Sad:

Cupid Is A Knavish Lad,

Thus To Make
Poor Females Mad.

Never So Weary,
Never So In Woe,

Bedabbled With The Dew
And Torn With Briers,

I Can No Further Crawl,
No Further Go;

My Legs Will Keep No Pace
With My Desires.

Here Will I Rest Me
Till The Break Of Day.

Heavens Shield Lysander,
If They Mean A Fray!

On The Ground
Sleep Sound:

I'Ll Apply To Your Eye,

Gentle Lover, Remedy.

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, ;
Nought Shall Go Ill;

The Man Shall Have
His Mare Again,

And All Shall Be Well. Ha!

Come, Sit Thee Down
Upon This Flowery Bed,

While I Thy Amiable
Cheeks Do Coy,

And Stick Musk-Roses
In Thy Sleek Smooth Head,

And Kiss Thy Fair Large Ears,
My Gentle Joy.

Where'S Peaseblossom?

Ready.

Scratch My Head,
Peaseblossom.

Ohh.

Where'S
Mounsieur Cobweb?

Ready.

Mounsieur Cobweb,
Good Mounsieur,

Get You Your Weapons
In Your Hand,

And Kill Me
A Red-Hipped Humble-Bee

On The Top Of A Thistle;

And, Good Mounsieur,
Bring Me The Honey-Bag.

Do Not Fret Yourself

Too Much In The Action,
Mounsieur;

And, Good Mounsieur,

Have A Care
The Honey-Bag Break Not;

I Would Be Loath
To Have You Overflown

With A Honey-Bag,
Signior.

Where'S
Mounsieur Mustardseed?

Ready.

Give Me Your Neaf,
Mounsieur Mustardseed.

O Pray You,

Leave Your Courtesy,
Good Mounsieur.

What'S Your Will?

Nothing, Mounsieur,

But To Help Cavalery
Cobweb To Scratch.

I Must To The Barber'S,
Monsieur;

For Methinks I Am
Marvellous Hairy About The Face;

And I Am
Such A Tender Ass,

That If My Hair
Do But Tickle Me,

I Must Scratch.

What, Wilt Thou Hear Some Music,
My Sweet Love?

I Have A Reasonable
Good Ear In Music.

Let'S Have
The Tongs And The Bones.

Or Say, Sweet Love,

What Thou Desirest
To Eat.

Truly,
A Peck Of Provender:

I Could Munch
Your Good Dry Oats.

Methinks I Have A Great Desire
To A Bottle Of Hay:

Good Hay, Sweet Hay,
Hath No Fellow.

I Have
A Ventursome Fairy

That Shall Seek
The Squirrel'S Hoard,

And Fetch Thee New Nuts.

I Had Rather Have A Handful
Or Two Of Dried Peas.

But, I Pray You,

Let None Of
Your People Stir Me:

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!

- Welcome, Good Robin.

See'St Thou
This Sweet Sight?

Her Dotage Now
I Do Begin To Pity:

For, Meeting Her
Of Late Behind The Wood,

Seeking Sweet Favours
From This Hateful Fool,

I Did Upbraid Her
And Fall Out With Her;

For She His Hairy Temples
Then Had Rounded

With A Coronet Of Fresh
And Fragrant Flowers;

And That Same Dew,
Which Sometime On The Buds

Was Wont To Swell
Like Round And Orient Pearls,

Stood Now Within
The Pretty Flowerets' Eyes

Like Tears That Did
Their Own Disgrace Bewail.

When I Had At My Pleasure
Taunted Her

And She In Mild Terms
Begg'D My Patience,

I Then Did Ask Of Her Her
Changeling Child;

Which Straight She Gave Me,
And Her Fairy Sent

To Bear Him To My Bower
In Fairy Land.

And Now I Have The Boy,
I Will Undo

This Hateful Imperfection
Of Her Eyes:

And, Gentle Puck,
Take This Transformed Scalp

From Off The Head
Of This Athenian Swain;

That, He Awaking
When The Other Do,

May All To Athens
Back 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.

My Oberon!

What Visions
Have I Seen!

Methought I Was
Enamour'D Of An Ass.

There Lies Your Love.

How Came These
Things To Pass?

O, How Mine Eyes Do
Loathe His Visage Now!

Silence Awhile.
Robin, Take Off This Head.

- Titania, Music Call;

And Strike More Dead
Than Common Sleep

Of All These Five
The Sense.

Music, Ho! Music,
Such As Charmeth Sleep!

Now,
When Thou Wakest,

With Thine Own
Fool'S Eyes Peep.

Sound, Music! Come,
My Queen, Take Hands With Me,

And Rock The Ground
Whereon These Sleepers Be.

Now Thou And I
Are New In Amity,

And Will
To-Morrow Midnight

Solemnly Dance In Duke Theseus'
House Triumphantly,

And Bless It
To All Fair Posterity:

There Shall The Pairs Of
Faithful Lovers Be Wedded,

With Theseus,
All In Jollity.

Fairy King,
Attend, And Mark:

I Do Hear
The Morning Lark.

Then, My Queen,
In Silence Sad,

Trip We After
The Night'S Shade:

We The Globe
Can Compass Soon,

Swifter Than
The Wandering Moon.

Come, My Lord,
And In Our Flight

Tell Me How
It Came This Night

That I Sleeping
Here Was Found

With These Mortals
On The Ground.

Go, One Of You,
Find Out The Forester;

For Now Our Observation
Is Perform'D;

And Since We Have
The Vaward Of The Day,

My Love Shall Hear
The Music Of My Hounds.

Uncouple In The Western
Valley; Let Them Go:

Dispatch, I Say,
And Find The Forester.

We Will, Fair Queen, Up
To The Mountain'S Top,

And Mark The Musical
Confusion

Of Hounds And Echo
In Conjunction.

I Was With Hercules
And Cadmus Once,

When In A Wood Of Crete
They Bay'D The
Bear With Hounds Of Sparta:

Never Did I Hear
Such Gallant Chiding:

For, Besides The Groves,
The Skies, The Fountains,

Every Region Near Seem'D
All One Mutual Cry:

I Never Heard So
Musical A Discord,

Such Sweet Thunder.

My Hounds Are Bred
Out Of The Spartan Kind,

So Flew'D, So Sanded,

And Their Heads Are Hung With
Ears That Sweep Away The Morning Dew, ;

Crook-Knee'D,
And Dew-Lapp'D

Like Thessalian Bulls;

Slow In Pursuit,

But Match'D In Mouth
Like Bells,

Each Under Each.

A Cry More Tunable
Was Never Holla'D To,

Nor Cheer'D With Horn,

In Crete, In Sparta,
Nor In Thessaly:

Judge When You Hear.

But, Soft!

What Nymphs Are These?

My Lord, This Is My
Daughter Here Asleep;

And This, Lysander;
This Demetrius Is;

This Helena,
Old Nedar'S Helena:

I Wonder Of Their
Being Here Together.

No Doubt They Rose Up Early
To Observe The Rite Of May,

And Hearing Our Intent,

Came Here In Grace
Our Solemnity.

But Speak, Egeus;
Is Not This The Day

That Hermia Should Give
Answer Of Her Choice?

It Is, My Lord.

Go, Bid The Huntsmen Wake
Them With Their Horns.

Good Morrow, Friends.

Saint Valentine 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 In The World,

That Hatred Is So Far
From Jealousy,

To Sleep By Hate,
And Fear No Enmity?

My Lord, I Shall
Reply Amazedly,

Half Sleep, Half Waking:

But As Yet, I Swear,

I Cannot Truly Say
How I Came Here;

But, As I Think...
For Truly Would I Speak,

And Now Do I Bethink Me,
So It Is...

I Came With Hermia Hither:

Our Intent Was To Be Gone
From Athens,

Where We Might, Without
The Peril Of The Athenian Law...

Enough, Enough, My Lord;
You Have Enough:

I Beg The Law,
The Law, Upon His Head.

They Would Have
Stolen Away;

They Would, Demetrius,

Thereby To Have
Defeated You And Me.

But, My Good Lord,
I Wot Not By What Power...

But By Some Power It Is...
My Love To Hermia,

Melted As The Snow,

Seems To Me Now As The
Remembrance Of An Idle Gaud

Which In My Childhood
I Did Dote Upon;

And All The Faith,
The Virtue Of My Heart,

The Object And
The Pleasure Of Mine Eye,

Is Only Helena.

To Her, My Lord, Was I
Betroth'D Ere I Saw Hermia:

But, Like In Sickness,
Did I Loathe This Food;

But, As In Health,
Come To My Natural Taste,

Now I Do Wish It,
Love It, Long For It,

And Will For Evermore
Be True To It.

Fair Lovers,
You Are Fortunately Met.:

Of This Discourse We
More Will Hear Anon.

Egeus, I Will Overbear
Your Will;

For In The Temple
By And By With Us

These Couples Shall
Eternally Be Knit.

And, For The Morning
Now Is Something Worn,

Our Purposed Hunting
Shall Be Set Aside.

Away With Us To Athens;
Three And Three,

We'Ll Hold A Feast
In Great Solemnity.

Come, Hippolyta.

These Things Seem Small
And Undistinguishable,

Like Far-Off Mountains
Turned Into Clouds.

Methinks I See These
Things With Parted Eye,

When Every Thing
Seems Double.

So Methinks:

And I Have Found
Demetrius Like A Jewel,

Mine Own,
And Not Mine Own.

Are You Sure
That We Are Awake?

It Seems To Me That Yet We Sleep,
We Dream.

Do Not You Think
The Duke Was Here,

And Bid Us
Follow Him?

Yea; And My Father.

And Hippolyta.

And He Did Bid Us
Follow To The Temple.

Why, Then, We Are Awake:

Let'S Follow Him

And By The Way Let Us
Recount Our Dreams.

When My Cue Comes,
Call Me, And I Will Answer:

My Next Is, "Most Fair Pyramus."

Heigh-Ho!

Peter Quince!

Flute, The Bellows-Mender!

Snout, The Tinker!

Starveling!

God'S My Life, Stolen Hence,

And Left Me Asleep!

I Have Had A Most Rare Vision.

I Have Had A Dream,

Past The Wit Of Man To Say
What Dream It Was:

Man Is But An Ass,

If He Go About To Expound
This Dream.

Methought I Was...

There Is No Man Can Tell What.

Methought I Was...

And Methought I Had...

But Man Is But A Patched Fool,

If He Will Offer To Say
What Methought I Had.

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:

It Shall Be Called
Bottom'S Dream,

Because It Hath No Bottom;

And I Will Sing It In
The Latter End Of A Play,

Before The Duke:

Peradventure, To Make It
The More Gracious,

I Will Sing It At Her Death.

'Ts Strange, My Theseus,
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.

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 As Frantic,

Sees Helen'S Beauty
In A Brow Of Egypt:

The Poet'S Eye,
In A Fine Frenzy Rolling,

Doth Glance From
Heaven To Earth,

From Earth To Heaven;

And As Imagination Bodies Forth
The Forms Of Things Unknown,

The Poet'S Pen
Turns Them To Shapes

And Gives To Airy Nothing
A Local Habitation And A Name.

Such Tricks Hath
Strong Imagination,

That If It Would But
Apprehend Some Joy,

It Comprehends Some
Bringer Of That Joy;

Or In The Night,
Imagining Some Fear,

How Easy Is A Bush
Supposed A Bear!

But All The Story
Of The Night Told Over,

And All Their Minds
Transfigured So Together,

More Witnesseth
Than Fancy'S Images

And Grows To Something
Of Great Constancy;

But, Howsoever,
Strange And Admirable.

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 Play Is Marred:

It Goes 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 Handicraft
Man In Athens.

Yea, And The Best
Person, Too;

And He Is A Very
Paramour For A Sweet Voice.

You Must Say "Paragon":

A Paramour Is,
God Bless Us,

A Thing Of Naught.

Masters, The Duke Is
Coming From The Temple,

And There Is Two Or 3 Lords
And Ladies More Married:

If Our Sport Had Gone Forward,
We Had All Been Made Men.

O Sweet Bully Bottom!

Thus Hath He Lost
Sixpence A Day During His Life;

He Could Not Have 'Scaped Sixpence A
Day:

And The Duke Had Not
Given Him Sixpence A Day

For Playing Pyramus,
I'Ll Be Hanged;

He Would Have
Deserved It:

Sixpence A Day In
Pyramus, Or Nothing.

- Where Are These Lads?
Where Are These Hearts?

Bottom!
Bottom!

Bottom!

O Most Courageous Day!
O Most Happy Hour!

Masters, I Am To
Discourse Wonders:

But Ask Me Not What;

For If I Tell You,
I Am No True Athenian.

I Will Tell You Every Thing,
Right As It Fell Out.

Let Us Hear,
Sweet Bottom.

Not A Word Of Me.

All That I Will Tell You Is
That The Duke Hath Dined.

Get Your Apparel Together,
Good Strings To Your Beards,

New Ribbons To Your Pumps;
Meet Presently At The Palace;

Every Man Look O'Er His Part;

For The Short And The Long Is,
Our Play Is Preferred.

In Any Case, Let Thisby
Have Clean Linen;

And Let Not Him That Plays
The Lion Pair His Nails,

For They Shall Hang Out
For The Lion'S Claws.

And, Most Dear Actors,

Eat No Onions Nor Garlic,

For We Are To Utter
Sweet Breath;

And I Do Not Doubt
But To Hear Them Say,

It Is A Sweet Comedy.

- Away! Go, Away!

- Come Now;
What Masques,

What Dances
Shall We Have,

To Wear Away This
Long Age Of 3 Hours

Between Our After-Supper
And Bed-Time?

Where Is Our Usual
Manager Of Mirth?

What Revels Are In Hand?

Is There No Play To Ease
The Anguish Of A Torturing Hour?

Call Philostrate.

Here,
Mighty Theseus.

Say, What Abridgement
Have You For This Evening?

There Is A Brief How
Many Sports Are Ripe:

Make Choice Of
Which Your Highness Will See First.

"The Battle
With The Centaurs,

"To Be Sung By
An Athenian Eunuch To The Harp."

We'Ll None Of That:

That Have I Told My Love,

In Glory Of My
Kinsman Hercules.

"A Tedious Brief Scene Of
Young Pyramus And His Love Thisbe;

Very Tragical Mirth."

Merry And Tragical!
Tedious And Brief!

That Is, Hot Ice And
Wondrous Strange Snow.

How Shall We Find The
Concord Of This Discord?"

A Play There Is,
My Lord,

Some 10 Words Long,

Which Is As Brief
As I Have Known A Play, ;

But By 10 Words,
My Lord, It Is Too Long,

Which Makes It Tedious;

For In All The Play There Is
Not One Word Apt, One Player Fitted.

What Are They
That Do Play It?

Hard-Handed Men That
Work In Athens Here,

Which Never Labour'D
In Their Minds Till Now,

And Now Have Toil'D
Their Unbreathed Memories

With This Same Play,
Against Your Nuptial.

And We Will Hear It.

No, My Noble Lord.

I Love Not To See
Wretchedness O'Er Charged

And Duty In His
Service Perishing.

Why, Gentle Sweet,
You Shall See No Such Thing.

For Never Anything
Can Be Amiss,

When Simpleness
And Duty Tender It.

Go, Bring Them In:

And Take Your Places,
Ladies.

- So Please Your Grace,
The Prologue Is Address'D.

Let Him Approach.

Gentles, Perchance You
Wonder At This Show;

But Wonder On, Till Truth
Make All Things Plain.

This Man Is Pyramus,
If You Would Know;

This Beauteous Lady
Thisby Is Certain.

This Man, With Lime
And Rough-Cast,

Doth Present Wall,

That Vile Wall Which
Did These Lovers Sunder;

And Through Wall'S Chink,
Poor Souls,

They Are Content
To Whisper.

At The Which
Let No Man Wonder.

This Man, With Lanthorn,
Dog, And Bush Of Thorns,

Presenteth Moonshine;
For, If You Will Know,

By Moonshine Did These
Lovers Think No Scorn

To Meet At Ninus' Tomb,
There, There To Woo.

This Grisly Beast,
Which Lion Hight By Name,

The Trusty Thisby,
Coming First By Night,

Did Scare Away,
Or Rather Did Affright;

And, As She Fled,
Her Mantle She Did Fall,

Which Lion Vile With Bloody
Mouth Did Stain.

Anon Comes Pyramus,
Sweet Youth And Tall,

And Finds His Trusty
Thisby'S Mantle Slain:

Whereat, With Blade,
With Bloody Blameful Blade,

He Bravely Broach'D Is
Boiling Bloody Breast...

And Thisby, Tarrying
In Mulberry Shade,

His Dagger Drew, And Died.

For All The Rest,

Let Lion, Moonshine,
Wall, And Lovers Twain

At Large Discourse,
While Here They Do Remain.

I Wonder If The Lion
Be To Speak.

No Wonder, My Lord:

One Lion May,
When Many Asses Do.

In This Same Interlude
It Doth Befall

That I, One Snout By Name,
Present A Wall.

And Such A Wall,
As I Would Have You Think,

That Had In It
A Crannied Hole Or Chink,

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 Whi... Whisper.

Would You Desire Lime
And Hair To Speak Better?

It Is The Wittiest
Partition

That Ever I Heard
Discourse, My Lord.

- Silence!

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!

Thanks, Courteous Wall.:

Jove Shield Thee Well
For This!

But What See 1?
No Thisby Do I See.

O Wicked Wall, Through
Whom I See No Bliss!

Cursed Be Thy Stones
For Thus Deceiving Me!

The Wall, Methinks,
Being Sensible, Should Curse Again.

No, In Truth, Sir,
He Should Not.

"Deceiving Me"
Is Thisby'S Cue:

She Is To Enter Now,

And I Am To Spy Her
Through The Wall.

You Shall See, It Will
Fall Pat As I Told You.

Yonder She Comes.

O Wall, Full Often
Hast Thou Heard My Moans,

For Parting My Fair
Pyramus And Me!

My Cherry Lips Have
Often Kiss'D Thy Stones,

Thy Stones With Lime
And Hair Knit Up In Thee.

I See A Voice:

Now Will I To The Chink,

To Spy An I Can Hear
My Thisby'S Face.

Thisby!

My Love Thou Art,
My Love I Think.

Think What Thou Wilt,
I Am Thy Lover'S Grace;

And, Like Limander,
Am I Trusty Still.

And I Like Helen,
Till The Fates Me Kill.

Not Shafalus To
Procrus Was So True.

As Shafalus To Procrus,
1 To You.

O Kiss Me Through The
Hole Of This Vile Wall!

I Kiss The Wall'S Hole,
Not Your Lips At All.

Wilt Thou At Ninny'S
Tomb Meet Me Straightway?

'Tide Life, 'Tide Death,
I Come Without Delay.

Thus Have I, Wall,
My Part Discharged So;

And, Being Done,
Thus Wall Away Doth Go.

Now Is The Mural Down
Between The Two Neighbors.

No Remedy, My Lord,

When Walls Are So
Willful To Hear Without Warning.

This Is The Silliest
Stuff That Ever I Heard.

The Best In This Kind
Are But Shadows;

And The Worst
Are No Worse,

If Imagination
Amend Them.

It Must Be Your Imagination
Then, And Not Theirs.

If We Imagine
No Worse Of Them

Than They Of Themselves,

They May Pass
For Excellent Men.

Here Come Two
Noble Beasts In,

A Man And A Lion.

You, Ladies,

You, Whose Gentle Hearts
Do Fear

The Smallest Monstrous Mouse
That Creeps On Floor,

May Now Perchance
Both Quake And Tremble Here,

When Lion Rough
In Wildest Rage Doth Roar.

Then Know That I,
One Snug The Joiner,

Am A Lion-Fell,
Nor Else No Lion'S Dam;

For, If I Should
As Lion Come In Strife

Into This Place, 'Twere
Pity On My Life.

A Very Gentle Beast,
And Of A Good Conscience.

The Very Best At A Beast,
My Lord, That E'Er I Saw.

Let Us Hearken To The Moon.

This Lanthorn Doth
The Horned Moon Present...

He Should Have Worn
The Horns On His Head.

This Lanthorn Doth
The Horned Moon Present;

Myself The Man In
The Moon Do Seem To Be.

This Is The Greatest
Error Of All The Rest:

The Man Should Be Put
Into The Lanthorn.

How Is It Else
The Mani' The Moon?

He Dares Not Come There
For The Candle;

For, You See,
It Is Already In Snuff.

- Would He Would Change!

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.

Proceed, Moon.

Well, All That I Have To Say

Is To Tell You That
The Lanthorn Is The Moon;

I, The Man In The Moon;
This Thorn-Bush, My Thorn-Bush;

And This Dog, My Dog.

But, Silence!
Here Comes Thisbe.

This Is Old Ninny'S Tomb.
Where Is My Love?

Oh!

- Well Roared, Lion!

Well Run, Thisbe.

Well Shone, Moon.

Truly, The Moon Shines
With A Good Grace.

- Well Moused, Lion.

And Then Came
Pyramus.

And So The Lion Vanished.

Sweet Moon, I Thank Thee
For Thy Sunny Beams.

I Thank Thee, Moon,
For Shining Now So Bright;

For, By Thy Gracious,
Golden, Glittering Gleams...

I Trust To Take
Of Truest Thisby Sight.

But Stay, O Spite!

But Mark, Poor Knight,
What Dreadful Dole Is Here!

Eyes, Do You See?
How Can It Be?

O Dainty Duck! O Dear!

Her Mantle Good,
What, Stain'D With Blood!

Approach, Ye Furies Fell!

O Fates, Come, Come,
Cut Thread And Thrum;

Quail, Crush, Conclude,
And Quell!

This Passion, And The
Death Of A Dear Friend,

Would Go Near To Make
A Man Look Sad.

Beshrew My Heart,
But I Pity The Man.

O Wherefore, Nature,
Didst Thou Lions Frame?

Since Lion Vile Hath
Here Deflower'D My Dear:

Devoured!

Which Is... No, No...
Which Was The Fairest Dame

That Lived, That Loved,
That Liked,

That Look'D With Cheer.

Come, Tears, Confound;

Out, Sword, And Wound
The Pap Of Pyramus;

Ay, That Left Pap,
Where Heart Doth Hop:

Thus Die I,
Thus, Thus, Thus.

Now Am I Dead,
Now Am I Fled;

My Soul Is In The Sky:

Tongue, Lose Thy Light;

Moon Take Thy Flight:

So, Die...

Die...

Die...

Die...

Die.

With The Help Of A Surgeon
He Might Yet Recover,

And Prove An Ass.

How Chance Moonshine Is Gone

Before Thisbe Comes
Back And Finds Her Lover?

She Will Find Him
By Starlight.

Here She Comes;

And Her Passion
Ends The Play.

I Hope She Will Be Brief.

She Hath Spied Him Already
With Those Sweet Eyes.

Asleep, My Love?
What, Dead, My Dove?

O Pyramus, Arise!
Speak, Speak. Quite Dumb?

Dead, Dead? A Tomb
Must Cover Thy Sweet Eyes.

These Lily Lips,
This Cherry Nose,

These Yellow Cowslip Cheeks,
Are Gone, Are Gone:

Lovers, Make Moan:
His Eyes Were Green As Leeks.

O Sisters 3,
Come, Come To Me,

With Hands As Pale As Milk;
Lay Them In Gore,

Since You Have Shore
With Shears His Thread Of Silk.

Tongue, Not A Word:
Come, Trusty Sword;

Come, Blade,
My Breast Imbrue...

And, Farewell, Friends;
Thus Thisby Ends:

Adieu, Adieu, Adieu.

Moonshine And Lion Are
Left To Bury The Dead.

Ay, And Wall, Too.

No, I Assure You;

The Wall Is Down That
Parted Their Fathers.

Will It Please You
To See The Epilogue,

Or To Hear A Bergomask Dance
Between Two Of Our Company?

No Epilogue, I Pray You;

For Your Play Needs
No Excuse.

Never Excuse;

For When The Players
Are All Dead,

There Needs None
To Be Blamed.

Marry, If He That Writ It

Had Played Pyramus And
Hanged Himself In Thisbe'S Garter,

It Would Have Been
A Fine Tragedy.

And So It Is, Truly;
And Very Notably Discharged.

But Come, Your Bergomask:
Let Your Epilogue Alone.

The Iron Tongue Of Midnight
Hath Told Twelve:

Lovers, To Bed;
'Tis Almost Fairy Time.

I Fear We Shall Out-Sleep
The Coming Morn

As Much As We This Night
Have Overwatch'D.

This Palpable-Gross Play
Hath Well Beguiled

The Heavy Gait Of Night.
Sweet Friends, To Bed.

A Fortnight Hold
We This Solemnity,

In Nightly Revels
And New Jollity.

Now The Hungry Lion Roars,
And The Wolf Behowls The Moon;

Whilst The Heavy
Ploughman Snores,

All With Weary Task Fordone.

Now The Wasted Brands Do Glow,

Whilst The Screech-Owl,
Screeching Loud,

Puts The Wretch That Lies In Woe
In Remembrance Of A Shroud.

Now It Is The Time Of Night
That The Graves All Gaping Wide,

Every One Lets Forth His Sprite,

In The Church-Way Paths
To Glide:

And We Fairies, That Do Run
By The Triple Hecate'S Team,

From The Presence Of The Sun,
Following Darkness Like A Dream,

Now Are Frolic:

Not A Mouse Shall Disturb
This Hallow'D House:

I Am Sent With Broom Before,

To Sweep The Dust
Behind The Door.

Through The House Give
Gathering Light,

By The Dead
And Drowsy Fire:

Every Elf
And Fairy Sprite

Hop As Light As Bird
From Brier;

And This Ditty,
After Me,

Sing And Dance It
Trippingly.

First, Rehearse
Your Song By Rote

To Each Word
A Warbling Note:

Hand In Hand,
With Fairy Grace,

Will We Sing,
And Bless This Place.

♪ Philomel, With Melody ♪

♪ Sing In Our Sweet Lullaby ♪

♪ So Good Night, Good Night ♪

♪ Good Night With Lullaby ♪

♪ Lulla, Lulla, Lullaby ♪

Now, Until
The Break Of Day,

Through This House
Each Fairy Stray.

To The Best Bride-Bed
Will We,

Which By Us
Shall Blessed Be;

And The Issue
There Create

Ever Shall Be Fortunate.

So Shall All
The Couples 3

Ever True In Loving Be;

And The Blots
Of Nature'S Hand

Shall Not In
Their Issue Stand;

Never Mole, Hare Lip,
Nor Scar,

Nor Mark Prodigious,

Such As Are
Despised In Nativity,

Shall Upon
Their Children Be.

With This Field-Dew
Consecrate,

Every Fairy
Take His Gait;

And Each Several
Chamber Bless,

Through This Palace,
With Sweet Peace;

And The Owner
Of It Blest

Ever Shall
In Safety Rest.

Trip Away; Make No Stay;

Meet Me All
By Break Of Day.

If We Shadows Have Offended,

Think But This,
And All Is Mended,

That You Have But Slumber'D 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.