A Midsummer Night's Dream Page #3

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 renderup

herpage to me.

Demetrius:
I love thee not,

therefore pursue me not!

Where is Lysanderand 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 mysex!

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 thy me 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

some time of the night.

Lulled in these flowers

with dances and delight.

And there the snake

throws her enameled 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 itwhen

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,

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes