A Midsummer Night's Dream Page #6

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 fairlarge ears,

my gentle joy.

Hmm. I must to the barber's.

Methinks I'm marvelous 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 hereyes.

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 enamored

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,

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes