All language subtitles for A.Midsummer.Nights.Dream.1999.1080p.BluRay.x264.DTS-FGT

We'll eat with these.

Crystal!

Ah.

[Sighs]

Now, fair Hippolyta,

our nuptial hour draws on apace.

Four happy days
bring in another moon.

But o, methinks, how slow
this old moon wanes!

She lingers my desires,

like to a stepdame or a dowager,

long withering out
a young man's revenue.

Four days will quickly
steep themselves in night,

four nights will quickly
dream away the time.

[Laughs]

And then the moon,
like to a silver bow

new-bent in heaven,

shall behold the night
of our solemnities.

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.

Egeus:
Stand forth, Demetrius.

My noble lord,

this man hath
my consent to marry her.

Stand forth, Lysander.

This man hath bewitched
the bosom of my child.

Thou, thou, Lysander,

thou hast given her rhymes

and interchanged love tokens

with my child.

With cunning hast thou filched

my daughter's heart.

Turned her obedience,
which is due to me,

to stubborn harshness.

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,

and that shall be either
to this gentleman...

or to her death,

according to our law...

immediately provided
in that case.

What say you, Hermia?

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.

Cur. Cur!

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.

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.

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
I have heard so much.

I do entreat your grace
to pardon me.

I know not by what power
I am made bold,

nor how it may concern
my modesty

in such a presence here
to plead my thoughts...

but I beseech your grace
that I may know

the worst that may
befall me in this case.

Either to die the death,

or to abjure forever
the society of men.

And 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 mewed,

to live a barren sister
all your life,

chanting faint hymns
to the cold fruitless moon.

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.

Take time to pause.

By the next new moon,

upon that day
either prepare to die

for disobedience
to your father's will,

or else to wed Demetrius,
as he would,

or on Diana's altar to protest

for aye austerity
and single life.

For you, fair Hermia,
look you arm yourself

to fit your fancies
to your father's will.

Come, Hippolyta.

Demetrius, come.

And come, Egeus.

I have some private schooling
for you both.

[Crying]

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.

Aye me!

For aught
that I could ever read,

could ever hear
by tale or history,

the course of true love
never did run smooth.

If there were
a sympathy in choice,

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

making it momentary as a sound,

swift as a shadow,
short as any dream,

as 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
to devour it up.

So quick bright things
come to confusion.

Therefore hear me, Hermia.

I have a widow aunt,

a dowager of great revenue,

and she respects me
as her only son.

Helena: Demetrius!

Demetrius!

[Indistinct Conversation]

Demetrius!

Ohh.

Demetrius!

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.

Love looks not with the eyes,
but with the mind,

and therefore is winged Cupid
painted blind.

God speed, fair Helena.

Whither away?

Call you me fair?

That fair again unsay.

Demetrius loves your fair.

O...happy fair!

Sickness is catching.

O, were favor so,

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

O, teach me how you look,
and with what art

you sway the motion
of Demetrius' heart.

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.

Helen...

to you our minds we will unfold.

Tomorrow night,
when Phoebe doth behold

her silver visage
in the watery glass,

a time that lovers' flights
doth still conceal,

through Athens gates
have we devised to steal.

And thence from Athens
turn away our eyes

to seek new friends
and stranger companies.

Egeus: Hermia!

Ohh.

Hermia!

Fare well, sweet play fellow.

Pray thou for us,

and good luck grant thee
thy Demetrius.

Egeus: Hermia!

Ohh.

Keep word, Lysander.

I will, my Hermia.

Helena, adieu.

As you on him,
Demetrius dote on you.

Oh...spite!

Oh, hell.

[Church Bells Tolling]

[Italian Operatic Singing]

Ah, buon giorno!

[Speaking Italian]

Is all our company here?

Here, Peter Quince.

Best to call them
generally, man by man,

according to the scrip.

[Laughing]

Come here, here.

Here is the scroll
of every man's name

which is thought fit
through all our town

to play in our interlude

before the duke and duchess

on his wedding day at night.

But 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 Cruel Death
of Pyramus and Thisby.

A very good piece of work,
I assure you, and a merry.

Now, good Peter Quince,
call forth your actors

by the scroll.

Masters...

spread yourselves.

So, uh, 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?

He's a lover
that kills himself,

most gallant, for love.

All: Ahh.

That will ask some tears
in the true performing of it.

If I do it, let the audience
look to their eyes.

I will move storms.

I will condole in some measure.

Now, to the rest.

Quince: Well--

Yet, my chief humour
is for a tyrant.

I could play Ercules rarely,

or a part to tear a cat in,

to make all split.

Francis Flute--

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.

Ha ha ha.

This was lofty. Ha ha.

Uh, ahem, Pyramus.

Uh, Francis Flute
the bellows-mender.

Here, Peter Quince.

Francis Flute,

you must take Thisby on you.

What is Thisby?
A wandering knight?

He's the lady
that Pyramus must love.

[Laughing]

Nay, faith,
let not me play a woman.

I have a beard coming.

And I may hide my face,
let me play Thisby, too.

Ohh--

I'll speak in
a monstrous little voice:

"Thisne, Thisne!"

Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear,

thy Thisby dear, and lady dear!"

Ohh!

No, no,
you must play Pyramus.

Snout...

and Flute, you Thisby.

[Applause]

Robin Starveling the tailor.

Here, Peter Quince.

Ah, well...

Snug the joiner,
you the lion's part.

Ahh.

And I hope we have
a play well fitted.

Have you
the lion's part written?

Pray you, if it be,
give it me,

for I am slow of study.

No, you may do it extempore,

for it is nothing but roaring.

Roar!

Roar!

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 the duke say,

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

But you should do it
too terribly,

that you would fright

the duchess and the ladies,

and they would shriek.

And that were enough
to hang us all.

I grant you, friends,

if I should fright the ladies
out of their wits,

they would have no more
discretion but to hang us.

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.

[Quietly Roaring]

[Laughing]

[Dog Barking]

Aah--

[Laughing]

You can play no part
but Pyramus.

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.

Masters,
you have all your parts,

and I am to entreat you
to con them by tomorrow night

and to meet in the palace wood,
a mile without the town.

There will we rehearse.

If we meet in the city,
we will be dogged by company

and our devices known.

Pray you fail me not.

We will meet

and there we may rehearse

most obscenely
and courageously.

Take pains.

Be perfect.

Adieu.

[Italian Operatic Singing]

[Sighs]

[Thunder]

[Thunder]

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.

I will go tell him
of fair Hermia's flight.

Then to the wood this very night

will he pursue her.

[Thunder]

[Pipes Playing]

Get off!.

Get off there!

Ah, fie!

Oh, sweet beauty!

How now, spirit?

Whither wander you?

Over hill, over dale,

through bush,
through a brier,

over park, over pale,

through flood, through a fire,

I do wander everywhere.

Swifter than the moon's sphere.

And I serve the fairy queen,

to dew her orbs upon the green.

Either I mistake your shape
and making quite,

or else you are that shrewd
and knavish sprite

called Robin Goodfellow.

Are not you he

that frights the maidens
of the villagery--

Psst!

Skims milk, and sometimes
labours in the quern

and bootless makes
the breathless housewife churn?

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 sometimes...

Ugh!

Farewell, thou lob of spirits.

I'll be gone.

The queen and all her elves
come here anon.

The king doth keep
his revels here tonight.

Take heed the queen come
not within his sight.

For Oberon

is passing fell

and wrath.

[Urinating]

- Hey!
-Go on.

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.

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?

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,

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,

hath every pelting river
made so proud

that they have overborne
their continents.

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 gossiped by my side

and sat with me
on Neptune's yellow sands,

marking the embarked traders
on the flood

when we have laughed
to see the sails conceive

and grow big-bellied
with the wanton wind.

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 moon light revels,

go with us.

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.

That very time, I saw,
but thou couldst not,

flying between the cold
moon and the Earth,

Cupid all armed.

A certain aim he took

and loosed his love shaft smartly

from his bow.

Yet, marked I where
the bolt of Cupid fell.

It fell upon
a little western flower,

before milk-white,

now purple with love's wound.

Fetch me that flower.

The juice of it,
on sleeping eyelids laid,

will make all man, all 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's asleep

and drop the liquor of it
in her eyes.

The next thing then
she waking looks upon...

she shall pursue it
with the soul of love.

And ere I take this charm
from off her sight,

I'll make her render up
her page to me.

I'll make her render up
her page to me.

Demetrius: I love thee not,
therefore pursue me not!

Where is Lysander and fair Hermia?

Thou toldst 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!

[Honk Honk]

[Honk Honk]

[Giggling]

Do I entice you?

Do I speak you fair?

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.

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,
but give me leave,

unworthy as I am,
to follow you.

What worser place
can I beg in your love

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!

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.

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.

Run when you will,

the story shall be changed.

Apollo flies,
and Daphne holds the chase.

The dove pursues the griffin.

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, in the field,

you do me mischief--oh!

Fie, Demetrius!

Your wrongs do set
a scandal on my sex!

Oh!

We cannot fight for love
as men may do.

We should be wooed

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 shall leave this grove,

thou shalt fly him,

and he shall seek thy love.

Hast thou the flower there?

Ahh...

I know a bank where
the wild thyme blows,

where oxlips and
the nodding violet grows,

quite over canopied
with the luscious woodbine,

with sweet musk-roses
and with eglantine.

There sleeps Titania
sometime of the night.

Lulled in these flowers
with dances and delight.

And there the snake
throws her enamelled skin,

weed wide enough
to wrap a fairy in.

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.

And look...

thou meet me ere
the first cock crow.

Fear not, my lord.

Your servant shall do so.

Hello, my queen.

How sweet! Hello.

Sing me now asleep.

Then to thy offices
and let me rest.

[Music Begins]

Hence, away.

Now all is well.

One aloof stands sentinel.

What thou seest
when thou dost awake,

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 doth appear

when thou wakest,

it is thy dear.

Wake when some vile thing
is near.

Fair love.

You faint when wandering
in the wood,

and to speak troth,

I forgot our way.

Oh.

We'll rest us, Hermia,
if you think it good

and tarry for the comfort
of the day.

Be it so, Lysander.

Well, find you out a bed...

for I upon this bank
shall rest my head.

Lysander!

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.

Oh, take the sense,
sweet, of my innocence.

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
in a single troth.

Then by your side,

no bedroom me deny.

For lying so, Hermia,

I do not lie.

Lysander riddles very prettily.

Mmm.

Nay, gentle friend.

Mmm!

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 then 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 pressed.

Through the forest have I gone,

but Athenian found I none
on whose eyes I might approve

this flower's force
in stirring love.

[Bird Calls]

Night...

and silence.

But who is here?

Weeds of Athens
he doth wear--oh!

This is he, my master said,
despised the Athenian maid.

[Honk]

And there the maiden,
sleeping sound

on the dank and dirty ground.

Pretty soul.

She durst not lie
with 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.

And so awake when I am gone,

for I must now...

to Oberon!

[Honks Horn]

I charge thee hence,

and do not haunt me thus.

Oh, wilt thou darkling leave me?

Do not so.

Stay on thy peril.

I alone will go.

[Breathing Hard]

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?

Not with salt tears.

If so, my eyes are oftener
washed than hers.

No.

No, no.

No.

I am as...ugly...

as a bear.

For beasts that meet me
run away for fear.

Lysander?

Dead or asleep?

Lysander, if you live,
good sir, awake.

Oh.

And run through fire
I will for thy sweet sake.

Where is Demetrius?

Oh, 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?

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?

Wherefore was I

to this keen mockery born?

When at your hands

did I deserve such scorn?

Is't not enough,

is't 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?

Oh, but fare you well.

Perforce I must confess,

I thought you lord
of more true gentleness.

She sees not Hermia.

Hermia, sleeps thou there,

and never mayst thou come
Lysander near.

And, all my powers,

address your love and might

to honour Helen

and to be her knight!

[Sighs]

Aye, me.

For pity,
what a dream was here.

Ohh.

Lysander, look how I do quake...

with fear.

Lysander?

Lysander?

Lysander!

[Men Singing]

Here's a marvellous,
convenient place

for our rehearsal.

This green plot
shall be our stage,

this hawthorn brake
our tiring house,

and we will, uh,

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.

Thisby that will never please.

First, Pyramus must draw a sword

to kill himself

which the ladies cannot abide.

By our lady, 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.

Oh, well, we will have
such a prologue,

and it shall be written
in, uh, 8 and 6.

No, make it 2 more.

Let it be written
in 8 and 8.

But there is 2 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!

Calendar.

Look in the almanac.

Find out if the moon shine.

Find out moon shine.

It doth shine that night.

It doth shine that night.

Why, then may you leave

a casement
of the great chamber window

open where we play,

and the moon may shine in

at the casement.

Two hard things.

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.

Uh, Sam. Sam.

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...

Starveling: Thisby.

Thisby whisper.

You can never bring in a wall.

No, no, no.
A-And if this may be,

then all is well.

Quince: Pyramus, you begin,

and when you have
spoken your speech,

enter into that brake.
Thisby, stand forth.

Now, left foot forward
and then antique gesture.

Uh, Pyramus, speak.

What hempen homespuns
have we swaggering here

so near the cradle
of the fairy queen?

Line.

Quince: Thisby.

Thisby,

the flowers of odious
savours sweet--

Odorous. Odorous.

Odorous savours 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.

Psst. [Whispering]
Must I speak now?

Aye, marry, must you,
for he goes back

to see a noise that he heard

and is to come again.

Most radiant--

Quince: [Falsetto]
Most radiant...

[Higher]
Most radiant--

Most radiant...

[Falsetto]
Most radiant Pyramus...

[Laughter]

Most--

Quince: Shh. Shh.

Lily-white of hue...

If I were fair, Thisby.

If I were only thine.

[Falsetto]
I'll meet thee, Pyramus,

at Ninny's tomb.

That's 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.

Enter, Pyramus!

The cue is past.
It is "never tire."

[To Himself]
If I were fair, Thisby.

If I were fair, Thisby.

If I were fair, Thisby,

I were only thine.

Aah! Aah!

Aah! Aah!

Quince: Oh, monstrous.
Oh, strange.

Fly, masters.

We are haunted.

Oh. Ooh.

Bottom, thou art changed.

What do I see on thee?

What do you see?

What, you see an ass-head
of your own, do you?

Bless thee, Bottom.
Bless thee.

Thou art translated.

Aah.

[Screaming]

Why do they run away?

I see their knavery.

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.

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 *

[Voice Breaks]

What angel wakes me
from my flowery bed?

* The finch, the sparrow
and the lark *

* The plain-song cuckoo gray *

* Whose note so many
a man doth mark *

* And dares not answer nay *

[Brays]

I pray thee, gentle mortal,
sing again.

Mine ear is much enamoured

of thy note.

So is mine eye

enthralled to thy shape,

and thy fair virtues
force, perforce,

doth move me, on the first view,

to say...to swear,

I love thee.

M-M-Methinks, mistress,

you should have
little reason for that,

and yet,

to say the truth,

reason and love keep little
company together nowadays.

[Laughter]

Nay, I can gleek,
upon occasion.

Thou art as wise
as thou art beautiful.

Not so, neither.

[Rustling]

If I have 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.

Oh!

Aah!

Thou shalt remain here,

whether thou wilt or no.

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!

- Ready.
-And I.

Moth and Mustardseed!

-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.

Nod to him, elves,
and do him courtesies.

I cry your worship's mercy
heartily.

I beseech your worship's name.

Cobweb.

I shall desire you
of more acquaintance,

good Cobweb.

If I cut my finger,
I shall make bold--

Your name, I pray you.

Mustardseed.

Oh, I know your patience well.

Your kindred have made my eyes

water ere now.

I shall desire you
of more acquaintance,

Mustardseed.

[Opera Plays]

Hail, mortal.

All: Hail, mortal.

Hail, mortal.

All: Hail, hail, hail.

I wonder if Titania be awaked,

then what it was
that next came in her eye

which she must dote on
in extremity.

How now, mad spirit?

What night-rule now
about this haunted grove?

My mistress with a monster
is in love.

[Whispering]

This falls out better
than I could devise.

[Laughing]

But hast thou yet latched
the Athenian's eyes

with the love-juice,
as I did bid thee do?

I took him sleeping.

That is finished, too.

Demetrius: ...so bitter...

Stand close.

Now I but chide.

But I should use thee worse,
for thou, I fear,

has 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.

This is the same Athenian.

This is the woman...

Uh-huh.

But not this the man.

Hermia: The sun was not
so true unto the day

as he to me.

Would he have stolen away
from sleeping Hermia?

Where is he?

Good Demetrius,
wilt thou give him me?

I had rather give
his carcass to my hounds.

Ohh. Out, dog.

Out, cur.

Thou drivest me past the bounds

of maiden's patience.

And hast thou killed him
while sleeping?

Oh, brave touch.

Could not a worm,

an adder, do so much?

You spend your passion
on a misprised mood.

I am not guilty
of Lysander's blood,

nor is he dead,
for all 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's no following her
in this fierce vein.

Here, therefore, for a while,

I will remain.

What hast thou done?

Thou hast mistaken quite

and laid the love-juice
on some true love's sight.

About the woods,
go swifter than the wind,

and Helena of Athens
look thou find.

By some illusion
look thou bring her here.

I'll charm his eyes
against he do appear.

I go, I go! Look how I go!

Swifter than arrow
from the tartar's bow.

The moon methinks

looks with her watery eye,

and when she weeps,

weeps every little flower,

lamenting some
enforced chastity.

[Laughter]

[Braying]

Come, lead him to my bower.

Tie my love's tongue.

Bring him silently.

- [Laughing]
- [Braying]

[Laughs]

[Braying]

Flower of this purple dye,

hit with Cupid's archery,

sink in the 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.

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.

These vows are Hermia's.

Will you give her o'er?

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.

Demetrius loves her,

and he loves not you.

Helen...

goddess...

nymph...

perfect...

divine.

To what, my love,
shall I compare thine eyne?

Crystal is muddy.

Oh, how ripe in show thy lips,

those kissing cherries,
tempting grow.

Oh.

Helen.

Oh, spite.

Oh, hell.

I see you all 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?

Demetrius: Helen.

Helen, it's not so.

Helen!

[Grunting]

Oh, Lysander.

Lysander?

Love!

Oh, 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.

Why seekest 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.

Injurious Hermia.

Most ungrateful maid.

Have you conspired?

Have you, with--with these,

contrived to bait me

with this foul derision?

Is all the counsel

that we two have shared,

the sister's vows,

the hours that we have spent

when we have chid
the hasty-footed time

for parting us--

Oh, is all forgot?

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 understand not
what you mean by this.

Aye, do.

Persever, counterfeit sad looks,

make mouths upon me
when I turn my back.

If you have any pity,
grace, or manners,

you would not make me
such an argument,

but fare you well.

'Tis partly my own fault,

which death or absence
soon shall remedy.

Helena, I love thee.

By my life, I do.

Oh, excellent.

I say I love thee
more than he can do.

Hermia:
Lysander, do you not jest?

Yes, sooth, and so do you.

Ow!

Am not I Hermia?

I am as fair now
as I was erewhile.

Why then you left me
in earnest, shall I say?

And never did desire
to see thee more.

Be certain, nothing truer,
'tis no jest that I hate thee

and love Helena.

Oh, me.

You juggler!

You canker blossom!

You thief of love.

What, have you come by night

and stolen my love's
heart from him?

Oh, fine, in 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?

Aye, 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 prevailed with him.

And are you grown so...
high in his esteem

because I am so dwarfish
and so low?

Well, how low am I,

thou painted may pole?

Speak.

How low am I?

I'm not yet so low

but that my nails

can reach into thine eyes.

-Aah!
- Rrr!

[Screaming]

Oh, I pray you, though
you mock me, gentlemen,

do not let her hurt me.

You perhaps may think

because she is somewhat
lower than myself,

that I can match her!

Lower?! Hark again!

Good Hermia, do not be
so bitter with me.

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?

Helena: A foolish heart
that I do 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.

She was a vixen
when she went to school,

and though she be but little...

Little?

She is fierce.

Little? Little again?

Nothing but low and little?

Why will you suffer her
to flout me thus?

Let me come to her!

Get you home, you dwarf,

you minimus
of hindering knot-grass made,

you bead, you acorn.

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.

Oh...

I will not trust you, I,

nor longer stay
in your cursed company.

Your hands than mine
are quicker for a fray.

My legs are longer though,
to run away!

Ohh! Ohh!

I am amazed
and know not what to say.

Ohh!

This is thy negligence.

Still, still, still!

Thou mistakest. Or else...

committ'st thy knaveries
wilfully, hmm?

Believe me, king of shadows,

I mistook.

Did not you tell me
I would know the man

by the Athenian garments
that he had on?

Thou see’s 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

that one come not within
the other's way, then...

crush this herb
into Lysander's...

Lysander's eye.

Whiles I in this affair
do thee employ,

I'll to my queen...

and beg her Indian boy.

And then I will her charmed eye
release from monster's view...

and all things shall be peace.

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.

Ah, ha ha ha ha!

-Ah, here comes one.
- [Honks Horn]

Where art thou, proud Demetrius?

Demetrius:
Here, villain! Where art thou?

I'll be with thee straight.

Lysander! Speak again!

Thou run away! Thou coward!

Art thou fled?

Come, recreant.

Come, thou child.

Yea! Art thou there?

Follow my voice.

We'll try no manhood here.

Oh, the villain
is much lighter-heeled than I.

I follow'd fast,
but faster he did fly.

Then fallen am I
in dark uneven way,

and here will rest me.

O come, thou gentle day.

Come hither! I am here!

[Honk Honk]

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.

Never so weary...

never so in woe.

I can no further crawl,
no further go.

Here I will rest me
till the break of day.

Heavens shield Lysander,
if they mean a fray.

Helena: 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.

Titania:
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.

Hmm. I must to the barber's.

Methinks I'm marvellous hairy
about the face,

and I am such a tender ass.

If my hair do but tickle me,
I must scratch.

What, wilt thou hear some music,

my sweet love?

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.

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.

Fairies, begone,
and be all ways away.

So doth the woodbine,

the sweet honeysuckle
gently entwist...

Mmm.

The female ivy so enrings

the barky fingers of the elm.

Mmm...

Oh, how I love thee!

How I dote on thee!

[Yawns Loudly]

Puck:
On the ground, sleep sound.

I'll apply to...

your eye... gentle lover...

remedy. Heh heh heh.

When thou wakest,
thou takest true delight

in the sight
of thy former lady's eye.

Jack shall have Jill.
Naught shall go ill.

The man shall have
his mare again...

and all shall be well.

Welcome, good Robin.
See'st thou this sweet sight?

Her dotage now I do begin to pity.

I shall undo this hateful
imperfection of her eyes.

Be as thou wast wont to be.

See as thou wast wont to see.

Now, my Titania...

wake you, my sweet queen.

[Gasps]

Oh, my Oberon.

Oh, what visions have I seen.

Methought I was enamour'd
of an ass.

There lies your love.

[Gasps]

How came these things to pass?

Silence awhile.

Fairy king, attend and mark,

I do hear the morning lark.

Then, my queen, in silence sad,

trip we after 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.

We will, fair queen,

up to the mountain's top,

and mark the musical confusion

of hounds and echo
in conjunction.

My hounds are bred out
of the Spartan kind,

so flew'd, so sanded,

and their heads are hung--

With ears.

[Riders Shouting]

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 them
being here together.

No doubt they rose up early

to observe the rite of May.

Good morrow, friends.

Saint Valentine is past.

Begin these wood-birds
but to couple now?

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 I think--

for truly would I speak--

I came with Hermia hither.

Our intent was to
be gone from Athens

where we might
without the peril

-of the Athenian law--
- Enough!

My lord,
you have heard 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--

you of your wife,
and me of my consent,

of my consent that
she should be your wife.

My good lord,
I wot not by what power,

but by some power it is,

my love to Hermia
melted as the snow,

and all the faith,
the virtue of my heart,

the object and the pleasure
of mine eye

is only Helena.

Fair lovers...

you are fortunately met.

Egeus,
I will overbear your will,

for in the temple
by and by with us

these couples shall
eternally be knit.

Away with us to Athens,
three and three.

We'll hold a feast
in great solemnity!

Come, Hippolyta.

When my cue comes, call me,
and I will answer.

My next is
"Most fair Pyramus..."

Heigh-ho.

Peter Quince?

Flute!

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...

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 shall sing it at her death.

Have you sent to Bottom's house?

Has 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?

Masters!

The duke is coming
from the temple,

and there's two or three

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 six pence
a day during his life.

Had the duke had not
given him six pence

for playing Pyramus,
I'll be hanged.

He would've deserved it.

Six pence a day in Pyramus,
or nothing.

[Cart Approaching]

Where are these lads?

- Bottom!
- Bottom!

Where are these hearts?

- Bottom!
-O courageous day!

- Bottom!
- Bottom!

O most happy hour!

Masters, I am to
discourse wonders,

but ask me not what.

Let us hear, sweet Bottom.

Not a word of me.

All I will tell you
is that the duke hath dined.

Get your apparel together.

Everyman, look o'er his part.

Let Thisby have clean linen,

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

for they shall hang out
for the lion's claws!

[Operatic Tenor
Singing In Italian]

Rrahhrr!

If it please you.

These things seem small
and indistinguishable,

like far-off mountains
turning into clouds.

And I have found my Demetrius

like a jewel mine own,
and not mine own.

Oh.

'Tis 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.

Such tricks hath
strong imagination,

that if it would
but apprehend some joy,

it comprehends
some bringer of the joy.

But all the story
of the night told over,

and all their minds

transfigured so together,

more witnesseth
than fancy images

and grows to something
of great constancy,

but, howsoever,
strange and admirable.

[Tapping Glass]

Joy, gentle friends.

Joy and fresh days of love
accompany your hearts.

More than to us wait
in your royal walks,

your board, your bed.

[Bangs Down Fork]

[Quartet Resumes Playing]

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?

Here, mighty Theseus.

What revels are in hand?
Is there no play

to ease the anguish
of a torturing hour?

There is a brief how
many sports are ripe.

"Battle with the Centaurs,

to be sung by an Athenian
eunuch to the harp."

We'll none of that.

"The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,

tearing the Thracian singer
in their rage."

That is an old device,
and it was played

when I from Thebes
came last a conqueror.

"The thrice three Muses

mourning for
the death of learning,

late deceased in beggary."

That is some satire,
keen and critical,

not sorting with
a nuptial ceremony.

"A tedious brief scene

of young Pyramus
and his love Thisby.

Very tragical mirth."

Merry and tragical?
Tedious and brief?

That is hot ice
and wondrous strange snow.

What are they that do play it?

Hard-handed men
that work in Athens here,

which never laboured
in their mind till now,

and now have toiled

their unbreathed memories

with this same play
against your nuptial.

We will hear it.

No, no, my lord.

I did hear it over,
and it is nothing,

nothing in the world.

I will hear that play.

The, um, short
and the long is...

our play is preferred.

For never anything
can be amiss

when simpleness
and duty tender it.

[Praying]

[Procession Plays]

Moonshine shall shine in
at the casement.

So please, your grace,
the prologue is addressed.

Let him approach.

Courage, man, courage.

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--

through which the lovers--

Pyramus and Thisby.

[Louder]
Pyramus and Thisby.

Pyramus and Thisby!

Pyramus and Thisby did
whisper often very secretly.

And this the cranny is,
right and sinister,

through which
the fearful lovers are to--

Whisper.

[Audience Laughs]

Would you desire lime and hair
to speak better?

It is the wittiest partition

as ever I heard discourse,
my lord.

Pyramus draws near the wall.
Silence.

O grim-looked night!

O night with hue so black!

O night,

whichever 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 stands

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 I?

No Thisby do I see.

Oh, wicked wall

through whom I see no bliss,

curse be thy stones

for thus deceiving me.

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

No, in truth, sire,
he should not.

"Deceiving me"
is Thisby's cue.

He--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.

[Falsetto Voice]
Oh, wall,

full often hast thou
heard my moans

for--

[Audience Laughing]

For parting--

For parting
my fair Pyramus and me.

My ch-cherry lips have often
kissed thy stones--

thy stones with lime
and hair knit up in thee.

I see a voice.

Now will I to the chink to spy

and I can hear my Thisby's face.

This by...

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.

Oh, 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--

That's Ninus' tomb.

That's Ninus' 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.

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.

Rrrroowwrr!

For know that I,
as 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.

Rowr!

Rowr!

[Louder Applause]

Moonshine.

Moonshine.

Let me play the moon.

I--

This lantern doth
the horned moon present--

[Laughter]

This lantern doth
the horned moon present

myself the man in the moon
do seem to be--

[Laughter]

All I have to say is to tell you
that this lantern

is the moon,
I'm the man in the moon,

this thorn bush, my thorn bush--

[Barks]

And this dog...my dog.

Oh. Oh, silence.
Here comes Thisby.

Where is my love?

- [Roars]
- [Screams]

[Barking]

Well roared, lion.

Well run, Thisby.

Well shone, moon.

And then came Pyramus.

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,

O light,
what dreadful dole is here?

Eyes, do you see?

How can it be?

O dainty duck...

O dear, thy mantle good.

What, stained with blood?

Approach, ye furies fell.

[Dog Barks]

O fates, come, come...

Cut thread and thrum.

Quail, crush,

conclude, and quell!

[Laughter And Applause]

O wherefore, nature,
didst thou lions frame?

Since lion vile hath here
deflowered my dear.

Devoured!

Which is--no...

no--which was the fairest dame
that lived,

that loved, that licked,
that liked, that--line?

That looked!

That looked with cheer.

Come, tears, confound.

Out, sword, and wound

the pap of Pyramus.

Aye, that left pap
where heart doth hop.

Thus die I,

thus...

thus...

thus.

[Applause]

Thou am I dead,

thou am I fled.

No.

My soul is in the sky.

Tongue, lose thy light,

moon, take thy flight.

Now die...

die...

die...

die...

die.

[Applause]

Asleep, my love?

[Laughter]

What, dead, my dove?

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

[Normal Voice]
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.

His eyes were green as leeks.

O sisters three,
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 fare well, friends,
thus Thisby ends.

Adieu, adieu...

adieu.

[Applause]

Moonshine and lion are left
to bury the dead.

Aye, and wall, too.

No, I assure you,
the wall is down

that parted their fathers.

Will it please you
to see the epilogue,

or 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 need none to be blamed.

[Applause]

When the players are all dead...

there need none to be blamed.

"Very notably discharged."

[Laughs]

O happy hour!

The iron tongue of midnight
hath told 12:00.

Lovers, to bed,

'tis almost fairy time.

Oberon:
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 three
ever true in loving be.

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.

Very notably discharged!

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,

else the Puck a liar call.

And so,
good night unto you all.

Give me your hands,
if we be friends,

and Robin shall restore amends.