A Midsummer Night's Dream Page #2

I will roar, that I will make

the duke say, "Let him roar again!"

"Let him roar again. "

If 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.

But I will aggravate my voice so

that I will roar you as gently

as any sucking dove.

I will roar you an't were any nightingale.

You can play no part but Pyramus.

Oh, 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.

But, masters, here are your parts.

Thisbe's mother,

Thisbe's mother, Thisbe's mother.

Pyramus. Pyramus.

- Thisbe's mother, Thisbe's mother.

- And I am to entreat you,

- Oh, Thisbe's mother.

Request you and desire you,

to con them by tomorrow night.

And let us by moonlight

to the palace wood

a mile without the town.

There will we rehearse

for if we meet in the city,

we shall be dogged with company

and our devices known.

We will meet.

And there we may rehearse

most obscenely and courageously.

Take pains, be perfect.

Adieu.

How, now, Spirit!

Whither wander you?

Over hill, over dale

Through bush, through brier

Over park, over pale

Through flood, through fire

I do wander everywhere

Swifter than the moon's sphere

And I serve the Queen of Fairies

Are not you he that frights

the maidens of the village?

Thou speakest 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 a likeness of a filly foal.

The king doth keep

his revels here tonight.

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.

But jealous Oberon

would have the child

knight of his train

to trace the forest wild.

But she, perforce,

withholds the loved boy

crowns him with flowers

and makes him all her joy.

How, now, here comes Oberon!

llI met by moonlight, proud Titania.

What, jealous Oberon.

Fairies, skip hence.

I have forsworn his bed and company.

Tarry, rash wanton.

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 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.

My gentle Puck, come hither.

Fetch me that flower,

the herb I shew'd thee once.

Before milk white,

now purple with love's wound,

and maidens call it love in idleness.

The juice of it on sleeping eyelids 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!

Fair love, you faint with wandering

in the wood.

And...

to speak truth...

I have forgot our way.

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

You told me they were stolen

into this wood.

And here am I,

like wood within this wood,

because I cannot meet my Hermia.

I will overhear their conference.

I love you not, therefore pursue me not.

Where are Lysander and fair Hermia?

The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me.

You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant.

Give up your power to draw,

and I shall have no power

to follow you.

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'll run from you

and hide me in the brakes.

And leave you to the mercy

of wild beasts.

The wildest has not such a heart as you.

If you follow me, you may be sure

that I shall do you mischief in the wood.

Ay, in the temple, in the town,

in the field, you do me mischief.

We cannot fight for love, as men may do.

We should be wooed

and were not made to woo.

You're...

I'll follow you...

and make a heaven of hell.

To die upon the hand I love so well.

Fare thee well, nymph.

Before he leaves this grove,

thou shalt fly him,

and he shall seek thy love.

Oh, Peter Quince.

- Peter Quince.

- What say you, bully Bottom?

There are things in this, uh, comedy

of Pyramus and Thisbe

that will never please.

First, Pyramus must draw a sword

to kill himself.

- And?

- And which the ladies cannot abide.

How answer you that?

By heavens, a grave mistake.

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 then, for the more better assurance,

tell them that I, Pyramus,

am not Pyramus.

Huh?

But Bottom the weaver.

This will put them out of fear.

Well, we will have such a prologue.

Then, there's another thing.

- We must have a wall in the great chamber.

- A wall?

For Pyramus and Thisbe, says the story,

did talk through the chink of a wall.

But you can never bring in a wall.

What say you, Bottom?

Some man or other must present wall.

Let him have some plaster or some loam,

or rough-cast about him to signify wall.

And let him hold his fingers thus.

And through this cranny

shall Pyramus and Thisbe whisper.

If that may be, then all is well.

Welcome, wanderer.

Hast thou the flower there?

- Here 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 with the juice of this

I'll streak her eyes

And make her full of hateful fantasies

The next thing then

She waking looks upon

She shall pursue it

With the soul of love

And before I take this charm off

From her sight

I'll make her render up this boy to me

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 him

by the Athenian garments he hath on.

Effect it with some care so he may prove

more fond of her than she is of her love.

Look thou we meet before

the first cock crows.

Fear not, my lord,

your servant shall do so.

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