All language subtitles for 2014 Dream

Hahh!

Come on, come on!

Now, fair Hippolyta,
our nuptial hour draws on apace;

four happy days
bring in another moon.

But, ahh, 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.

Four days,

will quickly steep themselves
in night.

Four 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, tell Philostrate to
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 reveling.

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
and my gracious duke.

This man hath bewitch'd
the bosom of my child.

Thou, though, Lysander,
thou has given her rhymes,

and interchanged
love-tokens with my child.

Thou has by moonlight
at her window sung,

with feigning voice
verses of feigning love,

and stolen the impression
of her fantasy with bracelets

of thy hair, rings, gawds,

conceits, knacks,
trifles, sweetmeats,

messengers of strong prevailment
in unharden'd youth.

With cunning hast thou
filch'd 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.

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,

one that composed
your beauty, yeah,

and one to whom you are but as
a form in wax by him imprinted

and within his power to leave
the figure or disfigure it.

Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.

Oh so is Lysander.

In himself he is.

But in this kind,
wanting your father's voice,

the other must be
held the worthier.

I would my father
looked but with my eyes.

Rather your eyes must
with his judgment look.

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,
if I refuse to wed Demetrius.

Either to die the death

or to abjure forever
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 a cold fruitless moon.

Thrice-blessed they that
master so their blood,

to undergo such
maiden pilgrimage.

But earthlier happy
is the rose distilled,

than that which withering
on a 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.

Take time to pause.

And by the next new moon,
the sealing day betwixt my love

and me for everlasting
bond of fellowship,

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.

Relent, sweet Hermia,

and Lysander yield thy crazed
title to my certain right.

But you have her
father's love, Demetrius.

Let me have Hermia's,
do you marry him.

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.

My fortunes every way
as fairly ranked

if not with vantage
as Demetrius.

And, which is more than
all these boasts can be,

I am beloved of
beauteous Hermia.

Why should not I then
prosecute my right?

And Demetrius,
I'll avouch it to his head,

made love to Nedar's daughter,
Helena, and...

Oh she...
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 as 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 a vow of single life.

Come my Hippolyta.

Oh 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.

Augh how now, my love?

Why is your cheek so pale?

How chance the roses
there do fade so fast?

Oh, 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...

Oh cross! Too high to be
enthralled to low.

Or else misgraffed
in respect of years.

Oh spite!
Too old to be engaged to young.

Or else it stood upon
the choice of friends.

Oh 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 momentary

as a sound,

and swift as a shadow,

and 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.

Yes, if then true lovers
have been ever crossed,

it stands as an
edict in destiny.

Then... 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.

Ahh, a good persuasion.

Therefore, hear me Hermia.

I have a widowed aunt,
a dowager of great revenue

and she hath no child.

And from Athens is her
house remote seven 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 tomorrow night

and in the wood
a league without the town,

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,

and by that fire which burnt
the Carthage queen

when the false Troyan
under sail was seen,

by all the vows
that ever men have broke,

in number more
than ever women spoke,

in that same place
thou hast appointed me.

Tomorrow truly will
I meet with thee.

Augh!
Keep promise, love.

Oh, look here comes Helena.
Oh God speed, fair Helena!

Wait, wither away?
Call you me fair?

That fair again unsay.

Demetrius loves your fair.

Oh, happy fair.

Your eyes are lode-stars

and your tongue's
sweet air more tunable

than lark to shepherd's ear
when wheat is green,

when hawthorn buds appear.

Sickness is catching.

0 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 mind,
Demetrius being bated,

the... the rest I'd give
to be to you translated.

Oh teach me how you look,
and with what art

you sway the motion
of Demetrius' heart.

I frown upon him,
yet he loves me still.

Oh that your frowns could
teach my smiles such skill.

I give him curses,
yet he gives me love.

Oh that my prayers
could such affection move!

The more I hate,
the more he follows me.

Oh the more I love,
the more he hateth me.

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
will fly this place!

Uh, Helen, uh, to you our
minds we will unfold.

Tomorrow night, uh, a time
that lovers' flights doth still

conceal, and through Athens'
gates have we devised to steal.

And in the woods 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 will meet.

And hence from Athens turn away
our eyes to seek new friends

and stranger companies.

Oh 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.

Ahh, I will, my Hermia!

Helena, adieu.

As you on him,
Demetrius dote on you.

How happy some or
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 and,

oh love looks not with
the eyes but with the mind.

And therefore is winged
Cupid painted blind.

Nor hath Love's mind
of any judgment taste.

Wings and no eyes
figure unheedy haste.

And therefore is Love
said to be a child.

Because in choice
he is so oft beguiled.

As... as waggish boys in game
themselves forswear,

so the boy Love is perjured;
everywhere.

For... for 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.

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

Then to the wood will he
tomorrow night pursue her

and for this intelligence
oh if I have thanks

Oh, oh, oh, but herein
mean I to enrich my pain,

to have his sight thither,
and back again.

From the diagram.

Is everybody,
is all our company here?

You were best to
call them generally,

man by man,
according to the script.

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...
Yeah.

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 Thisbe.

A very good piece of work, mwah,
I assure you.

And a merry.

Now, good Peter Quince, call
forth your 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 I do it let the
audience look to their eyes.

I will move storms.

I will condole in some
measure to the rest.

Alright, now...

Yet my chief humor
is for a tyrant.

I could play Hercules rarely,

or a part to tear a cat in,

mm, to make all split!

The raging rocks,

the shivering shocks

Shall break the locks
of prison gates!

And Phibbus' car
shall shine from far

and make and mar
the foolish fates!

Hell yeah!

This was lofty. Now name
the rest of the players.

Okay.

This is Hercules' vein,
a tyrant's vein,

a lover is more condoling.
Yeah.

Francisco Flute,
the bellows-mender.

Here, Peter Quince.

Flute, you must
take Thisbe on you.

What is Thisbe,
a wandering knight?

It is the lady
that Pyramus must love.

Nay, faith,
let me not play a woman.

I have a beard coming.

That's all once.

You shall play it in a mask.

And you may speak
as small as you will.

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

I'll speak in a
monstrous little voice, watch,

"Thisbe, ooh Thisbe."

"Ahh, Pyramus!

Lover dear. Thy Thisbe
dear, and lady dear!"

Huh?
No. No.

You must play Pyramus
and Flute, you Thisbe.

Well, proceed.
Robin Starveling, the tailor.

Here, Peter Quince.

Starveling, you must
play Thisbe's mother.

Ohhhhh.

Tom Snout, the tinker.
Here, Peter Quince.

You, Pyramus' father.

Okay, I'll make sure that's
all I think about.

Okay.
Uh, myself, Thisbe'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?

Hmm?

I pray you 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.
Huh?

I will roar, that I will do
any man's heart good to hear me.

Ahh, no!
I will roar,

that I will make the duke say,

"Let him roar again,

let him roar again!"

And 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.

That's right, it's not one
man's job to do this play.

I grant you friends,
I grant you,

if that you should fright
the ladies out of their wits,

they would have no more
discretion but to hang us.

That's right.

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.

Hmm?

You can play
no part but Pyramus!

Okay.

Oh 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.

It's okay, good boy!

But masters, here are your
parts and I am to request...

request you and treat you
and desire you

to con them by tomorrow night.
What?

And meet me in
the palace wood a mile

without the town by moonlight.

Why?
There we will rehearse for

if we meet in the city we shall
be dogged with company.

And our devices known.
Okay.

In the meantime, I will prepare
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, be perfect.
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 brush, ♪

♪ Thorough brier,
Over park, over pale, ♪

♪ Thorough flood,
Thorough fire ♪

♪ I do wander everywhere;
I do wander everywhere! ♪

♪ Swifter than, swifter ♪

♪ And I serve
The fairy queen, ♪

♪ The cowslips tail
Her pensioners be ♪

♪ In their gold spots you see ♪

♪ Those be rubies,
Fairy favors ♪

♪ In those freckles
Live their savors ♪

♪ I must go seek
Some dewdrops here ♪

♪ Farewell
Thou lob of spirits ♪

♪ I'll be gone ♪

♪ Our queen, ♪

♪ Our queen
And all our 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 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 or 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,

skim milk, and sometimes
labor in the quern

as bootless make
the breathless housewife churn,

and sometimes make the drink
to bear no harm,

mislead night-wanderers,
laughing at their harm?

Those that Hobgoblin
call you and sweet Puck,

you do their work,
and they shall have good luck.

Are not you he?

Alright, alright.

I am that merry
wanderer of the night.

I jest to Oberon
and make him smile

when I 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 withered dewlap
pour the ale,

the wisest aunt
telling the saddest tale

sometime for three-foot stool
mistaketh me.

Then slip I from her burn, down
topples she and 'tailor' cries,

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.

Yeah!

But, room fairies!

Here comes Oberon.

And here my mistress.

What 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 are 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 for 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 the 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
have every pelting river

made so proud that they have
overborne their continents.

The ox hath therefore
stretched his yoke in vain,

the plowman lost his sweat,
and the green corn hath rotted

ere his youth attained a beard.

The fold stands empty
in the drowned field,

and crows are fatted
with the murrion flock.

The human mortals
lack 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 fall in the
fresh lap of the crimson rose,

and on old Winter's
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 has she
gossiped by my side,

and sat with me on
Neptune's yellow sands,

her womb then rich
with my young squire.

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!

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 armed,

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
a hundred thousand hearts.

Yet I might see young Cupid's
fiery shaft quenched

in the chaste beams
of the watery moon,

and the imperial
votaress passed on

in the maiden meditation,
fancy free.

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

and maidens
call it love-in-idleness.

Fetch me that flower,
the herb I showed thee once,

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 the flower
and be thou here again

ere the leviathan
can swim a league.

I'll put a girdle round about
the earth in forty minutes.

Hmm.

Oh no, this way. Yeah.

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,

be it on lion or bear,
wolf or bull,

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.

Hermia!

Who comes here?

I am invisible. And I will
overhear their conference.

I love thee not,
therefore, pursue me not.

Augh.

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.

You draw me,
you hard-hearted adamant.

But yet you draw not iron,
for my heart is true as steel.

Leave you 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.

Augh!

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.

Huh?

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'm not in the night.

Nor doth this wood
lack worlds of company,

for you, in my respect,
are all the world.

And 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.

Run when you will,
the story shall be changed.

Apollo flies
and Daphne holds the chase.

The dove pursues the griffin.

The mild hind makes
speed to catch the tiger,

bootless speed, when cowardice
pursues and valor flies!

I will not stay thy questions.

Let me go!

Or, if thou follow me,

augh, do not believe

but I shall do thee mischief
in the wood.

Ay, in the temple,
the town, the field,

you do me mischief.
Oh fie, Demetrius!

Your wrongs do set a scandal
on my sex.

We cannot fight for love
as men may do.

We should be woo'd
and we're not made to woo.

I'll follow thee
and make a heaven of hell,

I'll to die upon the hand
I love so well.

Fair thee well, nymph.

Ere thou do leave this
grove thou shalt fly him.

And he shall seek thy love.

Welcome, wanderer.

Hast thou a flower there?
Flower?

The flower?

Flower.
Oh "the flower," yes, yes, yes.

Here it is.

Augh, ugh, here it is...

I pray thee, give it me.

I pray thee,
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 here
ere the first cock crow.

Fear not my lord,
your servant shall do so.

I know a bank where
the wild thyme blows,

where the oxlips
and the nodding violet grows,

quite over canopied
with luscious woodbine,

with sweet musk roses
and with eglantine.

There sleeps Titania
sometime in 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.

And with the juice of this
I'll streak her eyes,

and make her full
of hateful fantasy.

Come now a roundel
and a fairy song.

Sing me now to sleep.

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, ♪

♪ Never harm,
Nor spell nor charm, ♪

♪ Come our lovely lady nigh ♪

♪ Philomel, Philomel,
Philomel, ♪

♪ With melody, sing in
our sweet lullaby ♪

♪ Lullaby ♪

What thou seest
when thou dost wake,

do it for thy true love take.

Love and languish for his sake.

Be it a lynx, a cat or a bear,

leopard or boar
with bristled hair,

in thine eye that shall appear

when thou wakest it is thy dear.

Wake when some
vile thing is near.

Ah.

Ahh.

Oh fair love, you faint
with wandering in the wood.

And to speak troth
I have forgot our way.

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.

No nay, good Lysander.

For my sake, my dear,

lie further off
yet do not lie so near.

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

Love takes the meaning
in love's conference.

Uh, I mean, that my heart unto
yours is knit so that

but one heart we can make of it.

Uh huh.

Two bosoms interchained
with an oath so then

two bosoms and a single troth

then by your side
no bedroom me deny, hmm?

For lying so Hermia,
I do not lie.

Lysander riddles very prettily.

And 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... and a maid

so far be distant,
and goodnight, sweet friend.

Thy love ne'er alter
till thy sweet life end.

Amen.

Amen to that fair prayer, say I.

Huh.

And then end life
when I end loyalty.

Oh!

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.

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 thine 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!

Oh wilt thou darkling leave me?

Do not so.

Stay on thy peril.

I alone will go.

I am out of breath
in this fond chase!

The more my prayer,
the lesser is my grace.

What?

Whoa! Whoa!

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, 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.

Oh, what wicked and dissembling
glass of mine

made me compare
with Hermia's sphery eyne?

Oh!

But who is here?

Lysander?
On the ground?

Oh, oh, 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.

Through nature shows art

that through thy bosom
makes me see thy heart.

Oh no, no, no, no!

But where's Demetrius?

Oh, how fit a word is that
vile name to perish on my sword!

Oh 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, no I do repent the tedious
minutes I with her have spent.

So, not Hermia
but Helena I love.

I mean, who will not
change a raven for a dove?

And the will of man
is by his reason swayed

and reason says
you are the worthier maid.

Oh, oh, augh.

Augh, things growing are not
ripe until their season.

Sol, being young,
till now ripe not to reason

and touching now
this point of human skill

in reason becomes
the marshal to my will

and leads me to your eyes,
where I o'erlook love's stories

written in love's richest book.

Oh, augh, augh, hmm.

Wherefore was I to
this keen mockery born?

When at your hands
did I deserve this 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?

Good troth you do
me wrong, oh, oh, oh!

Good sooth you do.

In such disdainful
manner me to woo.

But fare ye well.

Perforce I must confess

I thought you lord
of more true gentleness.

Ahh.
But oh lady of one man refused

should of another
therefore, be abused.

Oh 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,

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... Ay me for pity!

What... what a dream was here!

I, Lysander, look how
I do quake with fear.

Methought a serpent
ate 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! And... and 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!

Lysander!

Lysander!

Lysander!

Lysander!

Lord! No!

No, no, no.

Alack, where are you?
Lysander!

Put it right there.

Are we all met?
Pat, pat.

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 Thisbe

that will never please.

First, Pyramus must draw
a sword to kill himself,

which the ladies cannot abide.
How answer you that?

By our lady kin, 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 prolog and let
the prolog 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 prolog

and it shall be written
in eight and six.

No make it two more, let it
be written in eight and eight.

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 it.

Therefore, another prolog
must tell

that 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 intrigue you," huh?
Ahh uh huh.

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.

Go ahead.

I am a man!

Mm hmm.

As other men are!

Yeah!

And there indeed,
let him name his name

and tell them plainly
he's 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
Thisbe meet by moonlight.

Doth the moon shine
the 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!

May you leave the 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 lantern,

and say he comes to disfigure or
present the person of Moonshine.

Then there's another thing.

We must have a wall
in the great chamber

for Pyramus and Thisbe
says the story did talk

through the chink of a wall.

You can't bring in no wall.

What say you, Bottom?
Gonna bring in a wall.

What?

Some man or other
must present Wall.

Huh.

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, huh?

And through that cranny...
Oh yeah.

Shall Pyramus
and Thisbe whisper.

Well, if that may be
so then all is well!

Ha ha!
No come, sit down,

every mother's son
and rehearse your part.

I think of everything.
Pyramus, you begin.

When you have spoken your speech
enter into that brake.

Great.
And so everyone

according to his cue.

What hempen homespuns
have we swaggering here?

So near the cradle
of the fairy queen?

Oh, thanks mate!

Down leave.

What, a play toward?

I'll be an auditor.

An actor too perhaps,
if I see cause...

Speak Pyramus.
Thisbe, stand forth!

Okay.

Thisbe, the flowers
of odious savors sweet.

Odors.
What?

Odors.
Odors, come on man, odors.

Flowers of odors.
Flowers of odors savors sweet.

So hath thy breath.

Oh.

No.

My dearest Thisbe dear.

Thisbe!

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 has 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.

Uh, Ninus' tomb, man.

Why you must not speak that yet.

That you must answer to Pyramus.

You speak all your part
at once, cues and all.

Alright, Pyramus enter!

Your cue is past;
it is "never tire."

Never tire.

Oh, yo te ve
hombre, ahh si aqui. Aqui.

Oh.

As true as truest horse

that yet would never tire.

If I were fair, Thisbe,
I were only thine!

Oh monstrous,
oh strange, we are haunted.

Pray masters, fly masters, help!

[screaming continues

Oh my god!

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 a 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.

Oh Bottom, thou art changed!
What do I see on thee?

What do you see?
I see an ass!

Bless thee, Bottom!
Bless thee, thou art translated!

Hey wait, Peter Quince.

But...

Oh 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.

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
enamored 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.

Ugh.

Methinks, mistress, ye 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.

Oh 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.
Uh huh.

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 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 I cut my finger I
shall make bold with you.

Your name, honest gentleman?

Peaseblossom.

Good Master Peaseblossom,
I shall desire you of more

acquaintance too.

Your name, I beseech you, sir.

Moth!
And yours?

Mustardseed.

Good Master Mustardseed!

I know your patience well.

That same cowardly
giant-like ox-beef

hath devoured many
a gentleman of your house.

Come, wait upon him.

Lead him to my bower.

Oh, ugh, oh.

The moon methinks
looks with a watery eye

and when she weeps,
weeps every little flower

lamenting some
enforced chastity.

Fairies, fairies.

Tie up my lover's tongue.

Bring him silently.

Ugh, ugh, oh, oh.

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.

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 entered 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
and forth my mimic comes.

Thisbe, Thisbe
where are you Thisbe?

I loves you, Thisbe.

I want to kiss you
through the hole in the wall.

Now at his side
away his fellows fly

and at our stamp here,
o'er and o'er one falls.

He murder cries,
help from Athens calls.

I led them on
in this distracted fear

and left sweet Pyramus
translated there.

When in that moment,
so it came to pass,

Titania waked and
straightway loved an ass.

Oh, this turns out better
than I could devise!

But tell me, tell me, 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.

And the Athenian woman
by his side that,

when he waked, of force
she must be eyed.

Ahh, stand close.
This is the same Athenian?

This is the woman,
not this the man.

Oh 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... 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
murdered him.

So should a murderer
look so dead, so grim.

So should the murdered 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?

Ay, good Demetrius,
wilt thou give him me?

Ahh, I'd 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 never be
numbered amongst men!

Oh, oh once tell true,

tell true, even for my sake!

Durst thou have looked upon him
being awake

and hast thou killed
him sleeping?

O brave touch.

Could not a worm,
an adder, do so much?

An adder did it, for with
doubler tongue than thine,

thou serpent, never adder stung.

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 you,
tell me then that he is well.

And 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.

Wait.

There is no following
her in this fierce vein.

Huh.

Here therefore for a while
I will remain.

Hah. So sorrow's heaviness
doth heavier grow

for debt that bankrupt sleep
doth sorrow owe.

Which now in some slight measure
it will pay

for his tender here
I make some stay.

What hast thou done?

Thou hast mistaken quite

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

Ugh.

Of thy misprision
must perforce ensue

some true love turned
and not a false turned true.

Then fate o'er rules
that one man holding troth,

a million fail
confounding oath on oath.

About the wood,
go swifter than the wind

and Helena of Athens
look thou find.

Helena of Athens?

All fancy sick she is
and pale of cheer,

with sighs of love that
costs the fresh blood dear.

By some illusion bring her here.

And I'll charm his eye
against she do appear.

I go, I go, look howl go.

Swifter than arrow
from the Tartar's bow.

Whah...

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!

Stand aside.

The noise they make will
cause Demetrius to wake.

Then will two at once woo one,
that must needs be sport alone.

And those things do best please
me that befall preposterously.

Why should you think
that I should woo in scorn?

In scorn and derision
never come in tears.

Look, when I vow I weep

and vows so born in their
nativity all truth appears.

You do advance your
cunning more and more.

When truth kills truth,
oh devilish holy fray!

These vows are Hermia's.

Will you give her 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.

Oh Helena,

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, spite!

Oh hell.

I see you all are bent to set
against me for your merriment.

If you were civil
and knew courtesy

you would not do me
thus much injury.

Can you not hate me,
as I know you do,

but you must join in souls
to mock me too?

If you were men,
as men you are in show,

you would not use
a gentle lady so.

To vow and swear
and super praise 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?

I'm...

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.

Oh, 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 sojourned.

And now to Helen is it home
returned, 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.

Lysander!

Oh thou art not by mine eye,
Lysander found.

Mine ear, I thank it,
brought me to thy sound.

But... 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!

No.
Now I perceive they have

conjoined 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 of 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,
so we grew together

like to a double cherry,

two lovely berries
molded on one stem

so with two seeming bodies
but one heart.

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'm amazed at your passionate
words, I... 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 to call me goddess,

nymph, divine and rare,
precious, celestial?

Wherefore speaks he
this to her he hates?

And wherefore doth Lysander
deny your love so rich

within his soul and tender me
forsooth affection

but by your setting on,
by your consent?

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.

But fare ye well,
'tis partly my own fault

which death or absence
soon shall remedy.

Whoa, whoa, whoa,
hear my excuse,

my love, my life,
my soul, fair Helena!

Do not scorn her so!

If she cannot entreat,
I can compel.

Thou canst compel
no more than she entreat.

Thy threats have no more
strength than her weak prayers.

Oh, wha-hah!

And 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.

No if thou say so,
withdraw, and prove it too.

Lysander,
whereto tends all this?

Away, hang off
thou cat, thou burr!

No. No, he'll seem
to break loose,

take on as you will follow,

but yet not come,
you are a tame man.

Go! No!

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? No, out loathed
medicine, oh 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?

Oh 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,

oh 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, of doubt.

Be certain, nothing truer,

'tis no jest that I do hate thee
and love Helena.

No! 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?

Fine, I'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... why so?

Ay, that way goes the game.

Now I perceive that she has 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?

How low am I,
thou painted maypole?

Speak!

How low am I?

I am not yet so low but that my
nails can reach unto thine eyes!

I pray you,
though you mock me gentlemen

let her not hurt me.
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 wronged you.

Save that, in love unto
Demetrius I told him of your

stealth unto this wood.

He followed you for love,
I followed him

but he hath chid me hence and
threatened me, to spurn me,

strike me and 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?

No, with Demetrius.

Oh be thy not afraid,
she shall not harm thee, Helena.

No sir, she shall not
though you take her part.

Oh when she is angry
she's keen and shrewd.

She was a vixen
when she went to school

and though she be but little,
she is fierce.

Oh, "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.

Oh you minimus of hindering
knot grass made.

You...

Are too officious in her behalf

that scorns your services.

Let her alone.

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.

Oh now she holds me not.

Now follow, if thou
darest to try whose right,

of thine or mine,
is most in Helena!

No!

Hah!

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, I,

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.

I am amazed
and know not what to say.

This is thy negligence.

Still thou mistakest,

or else commit
thy knaveries willfully.

Believe me,
king of shadows, I mistook.

Did not you tell me
I should know the man

by the Athenian garments
he had on?

And so far blameless proves my
enterprise that I have anointed

an Athenian's eyes and so far
am I glad it did so sort

as this their jangling
I esteem a sport.

Thou see'st these lovers...
lovers,

seek a place to fight.
Yeah, augh, whoa.

Hie therefore, Robin,
overcast the night.

The starry welkin cover
thou anon in drooping fog

as black as Acheron,
and lead these testy rivals

so astray as one come not
within another's way.

Like to Lysander
sometime frame thy tongue,

then stir Demetrius up
with bitter wrong,

and sometimes rail
thou like Demetrius.

And from each other
look thou lead them thus,

till o'er their brow death
counterfeiting sleep

with leaden legs
and batty wings doth creep.

Then crush this herb
into Lysander's eye.

Lysander.
At. Lysander.

Whose liquor hath
this virtuous property,

to take from thence all error
with his might

and make his eyeballs roll
with wonted sight.

When next they wake
all this derision

shall seem a dream
and fruitless vision.

Whilest 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.

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.

Oh 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
her 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 feared in
field and town, Goblin,

lead them up and down.

Here comes one.

Where art thou, proud Demetrius?

Speak thou now.
Here, villain, 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?

Thou coward,
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.

Follow my voice.
We'll try no manhood here.

Oh he goes before me
and still dares me on!

When I come where he calls,
then he's gone.

That fallen am I
in dark uneven way,

and here will rest me.

Come, though gentle day.

For if but once thou
show me thy gray 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.

Where art thou now?

Come hither.

Nay then thou mock'st me.

Oh 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.

Oh weary night.

0 long and tedious night,
abate thy hour!

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,

I can no further crawl,

no further go.

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 thine eye,

to thine 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 will be well.

Whoo!

Oh you, you.
Oh, come.

Sit thee down upon
this flowery bed...

Oh, yes.

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.

Yes, kiss them.

Where's Peaseblossom?

Ready!

Ugh, scratch my head,
Peaseblossom.

Where's Monsieur Cobweb?

Ready!

Oh, Monsieur Cobweb,
good monsieur,

get you your weapons
in your hand,

and kill me a red-hipped
humblebee

on the top of a thistle.

And good monsieur,
bring me the honey bag.

Do not fret yourself too much
in the action, monsieur,

and good monsieur have
a care the honey bag break not.

I would be loath
to have you overflown

with a honey bag, signior.

Where's Monsieur Mustardseed?

What's your will?

Nothing, good monsieur, but to
help Peaseblossom to scratch.

I must to the barber's,
monsieur,

for methinks I am marvelous
hairy about the face.

And I am such a tender ass,

if my hair do but tickle me
I must scratch.

Oh say sweet love,
what thou desirest to eat?

Mm, truly, a peck of provender.

I could munch
your good dry oats.

Methinks I have a great
desire for a bottle of hay,

good hay, sweet hay,
mm, hath no fellow.

I have a venturous fairy that
shall seek the squirrel's hoard,

fetch thee new nuts.

Ah, I'd 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.

Oh fairies be gone,
be all ways away.

So doth the woodbine, the sweet
honeysuckle gently entwine,

the female ivy so enrings
the barky fingers of the elm.

Oh how I love thee!

How I dote on thee!
Mm hmm.

Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh.

Welcome, good Robin.

See'st thou this sweet sight?

Her dotage now I
do begin to pity.

For meeting her of
late behind a wood,

seeking sweet favors
for 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 sometimes
on the bud 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 at my pleasure
had taunted her

and she in mild terms
begged my patience,

I then did ask of her
her changeling child,

which straight way she gave me.

And the fairy sent to bear him
to my bower in fairyland.

And now that 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 others
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,

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.

Ahh, my Oberon!

What visions have I seen.

Methought I was
enamored of an ass.

There lies your love.

How came these things to pass?

Oh how mine eyes do loathe
his visage now.

Silence awhile.

Robin, take off his head.

Titania, music call.

And strike more dead
than common sleep

of all these five the sense.

Now when thou wakest, with
thine own fool's eyes peep.

Music, ho!

Music such as charmeth sleep.

Come, my queen,
take hands with me,

and rock the ground
whereon these sleepers be.

Now you and I are new in amity,
and will tomorrow midnight

solemnly dance in Duke
Theseus's house triumphantly,

and bless it to
all fair prosperity.

There shall the pair of faithful
lovers be wedded with Theseus,

all in jollity.

Fairy lord, 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.

My love shall hear
the music of my hounds.

Uncouple in the western valley.

Let them go.

We will, fair queen, up to
the mountain's top

and mark the musical confusion
of hounds

and echo in conjunction.

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.

Well no doubt they rose up early
to observe the rite of May,

and hearing our intent came
here in grace of our solemnity.

But speak Egeus, is not this
the day that Hermia

should give answer
of her choice?

It is, my lord.
Huntsmen.

Wake them with thy horn.

Good morrow, friends!

Saint Valentine is past.

Begin these woods 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.

Oh, but as I think,
for truly would I speak,

and now I do
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.

You of your wife,
me of my consent,

of my consent
that she should be your wife.

My lord, fair Helen
told me of their stealth.

Of... of this their purpose
hither to this wood

and I in fury hither
followed them,

fair Helena
in fancy following me.

But, my good lord,

I... 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.

To her, my lord was I betrothed
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.

Away with us to Athens!
Three and three.

We'll hold a feast
in great solemnity!

Come, Hippolyta.

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.

Aye 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."

Hey 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,

but 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.

Oh!

The eye of man hath not heard,

the ear of man hath not seen,

man's hand is not able to taste.

His tongue 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 shall sing it
in the latter end of a play,

before the duke!

Yes! Yes! Yes!

Huh?

What?

Yes!

Yes!

Yes! Yes! Yes!

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 comes not then...
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 has 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 God bless us,

is a thing of naught.

The ousel cock.

♪ The ousel cock, ♪

♪ So black of hue ♪

♪ So black of hue! ♪

♪ With all its tawny build ♪

♪ With all
Its tawny build now! ♪

♪ And also with
His notes he sings ♪

♪ He sings his notes! ♪

♪ The wren with little quill ♪

♪ He had a
Itty little bitty quill ♪

Masters!

The duke is coming
from the temple

and there is two or three
large ladies more married.

If our sport had gone forward,
we had all been made men.

Oh sweet bully Bottom.

Thus hath he lost
sixpence a day during his life.

He could not have
escaped 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!

Oh most courageous day!

Oh most happy hour!

Masters,
I am to discourse wonders!

But ask me not what
for if I tell you,

I am no true Athenian.
Oh come on.

I will tell you everything
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 over his part.

For the short and the long is,
our play is preferred.

Yes!

In any case, in any case,

let Thisbe 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.

No more words!
Go, away! Go, away!

'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.

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 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.

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.

Here come the lovers.

Joy, gentle friends!

Joy and fresh days of love
accompany your hearts!

More than to us
wait in your royal walk,

your board, and your bed.

Here, here!

Mm, come now.

What masques,
what dances shall we have

to wear away this
long age of three hours

between our after supper
and bedtime?

What revels are at hand?

Is there no play, to ease the
anguish of a torturing hour?

Call Philostrate.
Here, mighty Theseus.

Where is our usual
manager of mirth?

Here, mighty Theseus.

So, what abridgement
have we for this evening?

What masque, what music?

A play that is, my lord,
some ten words long,

which is as brief
as I've known a play.

But by ten 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,

that never labored in
their minds till now.

And we will hear it.

No, my noble lord,
it is not for you.

I... I have heard it over.

And it is nothing,
nothing in the world.

Unless... unless you can find
sport in their intent,

extremely stretched
and conned with cruel pain.

I will hear that play.

Yes!

For never anything can be amiss,

when simpleness
and duty tender it.

Go, bring them in.

And take your places, ladies!

Master, Princess, Lord,
the Prologue is addressed.

Let him approach!

Oh shit!

If we, if...

If we offend it is with our good
will that you should think we

come not to offend
but with good will.

To show our simple skill that is
the true beginning of our end.

Consider then
we come but in despite.

We do not come as
minding to content you,

our true intent is.

All for your delight
we are not here.

That you should hear repent you
the actors are at hand

and by their show you shall know
all that you are like to know.

This fellow doth not
stand upon points!

Ahh he hath rid his prolog
like a rough colt.

He knows not the stop.

Indeed, he hath played on
his prolog

like a child on a recorder.

In this same interlude
it doth befall

that I one Snout,
by name present wall.

And such a wall
as I would have you think,

had in it a crannied hole or
chink through which the lovers,

Pyramus and Thisbe, do
whisper often very secretly.

This loam, this rough cast, ha,

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 whisper.

Would you desire lime
and hair to speak better?

It is the wittiest partition

that ever I heard discourse,
my lord.

Pyramus draws
near the wall. Silence!

Shift yourself.

Ack!

Oh grim looked night!

Oh night with hue so black!

Oh night which ever art
when day is not!

Oh night, oh night!

Alack, alack, alack!

I fear my Thisbe's
promise is forgot!

And thou, oh wall,
oh sweet and lovely wall.

That stands between her
father's ground and mine's,

show me thy chink,
to blink through with mine eyne!

Thanks, courteous wall.

Jove shield thee well for this.

Easy.

But what see I?

No Thisbe do I see.

Oh wicked wall,
through whom I see no bliss!

Cursed be thy stones
for thus deceiving me!

Son of a bitch!

The wall, methinks, being
sensible should curse again!

No, no, no, in truth sir,
he should not.

"Deceiving me" is Thisbe's cue.

She is to enter now and I am
to spy her through the wall.

Yonder she come.

Oh wall, full often
hast thou heard my moans

for parting my...
fair Pyramus and me!

My 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
an I can hear my Thisbe's face.

Thisbe!

My love,
thou art my love I think.

Think what thou wilt,
I am thy lover's grace.

Oh kiss me through the
hole of this vile wall!

I kissed 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!

And thus I, Wall,
my part discharged so.

And being done,
thus Wall away doth go.

This is the silliest stuff
that ever I heard.

Ahh, the best in this
kind are but shadows,

the worst are no worse
if imagination amend them.

It must be your
imagination then,

and not theirs.

Here come two noble beasts in,
a man and a lion.

You ladies,
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.

They're gonna hang us.

They're gonna hang us!

I am a man.

Oh as all the men are.

And know that I once
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,
of a good conscience.

Well the very best
at a beast, my lord,

that e'er I saw.

This lantern doth
the horned moon present.

He should
have worn the horns on his head.

Ay he is no crescent,
and the horns are invisible

within the circumference.

This lantern 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 lantern.

How is it else
the man in the moon?

Oh he dares not come in there
for the candle

for you see it is
already in snuff.

I am aweary of this moon.
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.

All that I have to say

is to tell you that the lantern
is the moon,

I the man in the moon.

This thorn bush, my thorn bush,
and this dog my dog.

Oh but silence,
here comes Thisbe.

This is old Ninny's tomb.

Where is my love?

Run, Thisbe!

Oh my god, shit, oh you, dah!

Well moused, Lion!

And then came Pyramus.

I thank thee moon
for shining now so bright.

For by thy golden
gracious glittering gleams,

I trust to take of
truest Thisbe sight.

Woof.

Oh. But stay.

Oh Spite!

Eyes, do you see?

How can it be?

Thy mantle good,

what, stained with blood?

Approach ye Furies fell!

Fates, come come,
cut thread and thrum.

Quail, crush,
conclude and quell!

Beshrew my heart
but I pity the man.

Oh wherefore, Nature,

didst thou lions frame?

Since lion vile hath
here deflowered my dear.

Which is, no no,

which was the fairest dame
that lived,

that loved, that liked,
that looked with cheer.

Come tears,

confound,

out sword and
wound the pap of Pyramus.

Ay, here that left pap
where heart doth hop!

Thus die I,

Thus, thus, thus.

Now am I dead.

Egh.

Now am I fled.

My soul is in the sky.

Tongue, lose thy light.

Moon take thy flight.

Now die.

Die.

Die.

Die.

Die.

How chance Moonshine is gone
before Thisbe comes back

and finds her lover?

She will find him by starlight.

Ahh, here she comes
and her passion ends the play.

Methinks she should not use
a long one for such a Pyramus.

I hope she will be brief.

Asleep, my love?

What, dead my dove?

Oh Pyramus, arise.

Speak.

Speak.

Quite dumb?

Dead, dead?

A tomb must cover
thy sweet eyes.

These little lips,
this cherry nose,

these yellow cowslip cheeks,
are gone,

are gone.

Lovers make moan,

his eyes were green as leeks.

Oh 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 trust sword.

Come, blade, my breast imbue.

And, farewell, friends.

Thus Thisbe ends.

Adieu, adieu, adieu.

Bravo.

Here here, hahaha!

Moonshine and Lion
are left to bury the dead.

Ay, and, uh, Wall too.

No, no, I assure you the wall is
down that parted their fathers.

Would it please you
to see the epilog

or to hear a Bergomask dance
between two of our company?

No epilog, I pray You.

For your play
it needs no excuse.

Never excuse.

For when the players
are all dead

there needs none to be blamed.

But come, your Bergomask.

Let your epilog alone.

The iron tongue
of midnight hath told twelve.

Lovers, to bed.

'Tis almost fairy time.

A fortnight hold we
this solemnity.

In nightly revels
and new jollity!

Whoo!

Now the hungry lion roars,

and the wolf behowls the moon.

Whilst the heavy plowman snores

all with weary task fordone.

Now the wasted brands do glow,

whilst the screech-owl,
screeching loud,

puts the wrench 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 churchway 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 hallowed house.

I am sent with broom before

to sweep the dust
behind the door.

Through the house
give glimmering light

by the dead and drowsy fire.

Each and every fairy sprite
hop as light as bird from brier.

And this ditty after me,
sing and dance it trippingly.

Hand in hand with fairy grace,

will we sing
and bless this place.

♪ 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 ♪

♪ 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 ♪

♪ Meet me all by break of day ♪

If we shadows have offended,

think but this,
and all is mended.

That you have but slumbered here

whilst 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.