A Midsummer Night's Dream Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the A Midsummer Night's Dream script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the movie based on the William Shakespeare play starring Kevin Kline and Michelle Pfeiffer.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of A Midsummer Night's Dream. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

Swing on back to Drew's Script-O-Rama afterwards for more free movie scripts!

A Midsummer Night's Dream Script


 

                   

We'll eat with these.



 

                   

Crystal!



 

                   

Ah.



 

                   

[Sighs ]



 

                   

Now, fair Hippolyta,



 

                   

our nuptial hour draws on a pace.



 

                   

Four happy days

bring in another moon.



 

                   

But O, me thinks, 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.



  

                   

[ Laughs ]



  

                   

And then the moon,

like to a silver bow



  

                   

new-bent in heaven,



  

                   

shall behold the night

of our solemnities.



  

                   

Happy be Theseus,

our renowned duke.



  

                   

Thanks, good Egeus.



  

                   

What's the news with thee?



  

                   

Full of vexation come I,



  

                   

with complaint against my child,



  

                   

my daughter Hermia.



  

                   

Egeus:

Stand forth, Demetrius.



  

                   

My noble lord,



  

                   

this man hath

my consent to marry her.



  

                   

Stand forth, Lysander.



  

                   

This man hath bewitched

the bosom of my child.



  

                   

Thou, thou, Lysander,



  

                   

thou hast given her rhymes



  

                   

and interchanged love tokens



  

                   

with my child.



  

                   

With cunning hast thou filched



  

                   

my daughter's heart.



  

                   

Turned her obedience,

which is due to me,



  

                   

to stubborn harshness.



  

                   

And, my gracious duke,



  

                   

be it so she will not

here before your grace



  

                   

consent to marry

with Demetrius.



  

                   

I beg the ancient

privilege of Athens.



  

                   

As she is mine,

I may dispose of her,



  

                   

and that shall be either

to this gentleman...



  

                   

or to her death,



  

                   

according to our law...



  

                   

immediately provided

in that case.



  

                   

What say you, Hermia?



  

                   

Relent, sweet Hermia,

and, Lysander, yield



  

                   

thy crazed title

to my certain right.



  

                   

You have her father's love,

Demetrius.



  

                   

Let me have Hermia's.



  

                   

Do you marry him.



  

                   

Cur. Cur!



  

                   

Scornful Lysander,



  

                   

true, he hath my love,



  

                   

and what is mine

my love shall render him.



  

                   

And she is mine,



  

                   

and all my right of her



  

                   

I do estate unto Demetrius.



  

                   

I am, my lord,

as well derived as he,



  

                   

as well possessed.

My love is more than his,



  

                   

and which is more than

all these boasts can be,



  

                   

I am beloved

of beauteous Hermia.



  

                   

Why should not I

then prosecute my right?



  

                   

Demetrius,

I'll avouch it to his head,



  

                   

made love to

Nedar's daughter Helena



  

                   

and won her soul.



  

                   

And she, sweet lady, dotes,



  

                   

devoutly dotes,

dotes in idolatry,



  

                   

upon this spotted

and inconstant man.



  

                   

I must confess

I have heard so much.



  

                   

I do entreat your grace

to pardon me.



  

                   

I know not by what power

I am made bold,



  

                   

nor how it may concern

my modesty



  

                   

in such a presence here

to plead my thoughts...



  

                   

but I beseech your grace

that I may know



  

                   

the worst that may

be fall me in this case.



  

                   

Either to die the death,



  

                   

or to abjure forever

the society of men.



  

                   

And therefore, fair Hermia,

question your desires,



  

                   

know of your youth,

examine well your blood,



  

                   

whether, if you yield not

to your father's choice,



  

                   

you can endure

the livery of a nun,



  

                   

for aye to be

in shady cloister mewed,



  

                   

to live a barren sister

all your life,



  

                   

chanting faint hymns

to the cold fruitless moon.



  

                   

So will I grow...



  

                   

so live, so die, mylord,



  

                   

ere I will yield

my virgin patent up



  

                   

unto his lordship

whose unwished yoke



  

                   

my soul consents

not to give sovereignty.



  

                   

Take time to pause.



  

                   

By the next new moon,



  

                   

upon that day

either prepare to die



  

                   

for disobedience

to your father's will,



  

                   

or else to wed Demetrius,

as he would,



  

                   

or on Diana's altar to protest



  

                   

for aye austerity

and single life.



  

                   

For you, fair Hermia,

look you arm yourself



  

                   

to fit your fancies

to your father's will.



   

                   

Come, Hippolyta.



   

                   

Demetrius, come.



   

                   

And come, Egeus.



   

                   

I have some private schooling

for you both.



   

                   

[Crying ]



   

                   

How now, my love?



   

                   

Why is your cheek so pale?



   

                   

How chance the roses there

do fade so fast?



   

                   

Be like for want of rain,



   

                   

which I could well beteem them



   

                   

from the tempest of my eyes.



   

                   

Aye me!



   

                   

For aught

that I could ever read,



   

                   

could ever hear

by tale or history,



   

                   

the course of true love

never did run smooth.



   

                   

If there were

a sympathy in choice,



   

                   

war, death, or sickness

did lay siege to it,



   

                   

making it momentary as a sound,



   

                   

swift as a shadow,

short as any dream,



   

                   

as brief as the lightning

in the collied night,



   

                   

that, in a spleen,

unfolds both heaven and earth,



   

                   

and ere a man hath power

to say'behold!'



   

                   

the jaws of darkness

to devour it up.



   

                   

So quick bright things

come to confusion.



   

                   

Therefore hear me, Hermia.



   

                   

I have a widow aunt,



   

                   

a do wager of great revenue,



   

                   

and she respects me

as her only son.



   

                   

Helena: Demetrius!



   

                   

Demetrius!



   

                   

[ Indistinct Conversation ]



   

                   

Demetrius!



   

                   

Ohh.



   

                   

Demetrius!



   

                   

How happy some

o'er other some can be!



   

                   

Through Athens I am thought

as fair as she.



   

                   

But what of that?



   

                   

Demetrius thinks not so.



   

                   

He will not know what all

but he do know.



   

                   

Love looks not with the eyes,

but with the mind,



   

                   

and therefore is winged Cupid

painted blind.



   

                   

God speed, fair Helena.



   

                   

Whit her away?



   

                   

Call you me fair?



   

                   

That fair again unsay.



   

                   

Demetrius loves your fair.



   

                   

O...happy fair!



   

                   

Sickness is catching.



   

                   

O, were favor so,



   

                   

yours would I catch,

fair Hermia, ere I go.



   

                   

O,teach me how you look,

and with what art



   

                   

you sway the motion

of Demetrius' heart.



   

                   

His folly, Helena,

is no fault of mine.



   

                   

None but your beauty.



   

                   

Would that fault were mine!



   

                   

Take comfort.



   

                   

He no more shall see my face.



   

                   

Lysanderand myself

shall fly this place.



   

                   

Helen...



   

                   

to you our minds we will unfold.



   

                   

Tomorrow night,

when Phoebe doth behold



   

                   

her silver visage

in the watery glass,



   

                   

a time that lovers' flights

doth still conceal,



   

                   

through Athens gates

have we devised to steal.



   

                   

And thence from Athens

turn away our eyes



   

                   

to seek new friends

and stranger companies.



   

                   

Egeus: Hermia!



   

                   

Ohh.



   

                   

Hermia!



   

                   

Farewell, sweetplay fellow.



   

                   

Pray thou for us,



   

                   

and good luck grant thee

thy Demetrius.



   

                   

Egeus: Hermia!



   

                   

Ohh.



   

                   

Keep word, Lysander.



   

                   

I will, my Hermia.



   

                   

Helena, adieu.



   

                   

As you on him,

Demetrius dote on you.



   

                   

Oh... spite!



   

                   

Oh, hell.



   

                   

[Church Bells Tolling ]



   

                   

[ Italian Operatic Singing ]



   

                   

Ah, buon giorno!



   

                   

[Speaking Italian ]



   

                   

Is all our company here?



   

                   

Here, PeterQuince.



   

                   

Best to call them

generally, man by man,



   

                   

according to the scrip.



   

                   

[ Laughing ]



   

                   

Come here, here.



   

                   

Here is the scroll

of every man's name



   

                   

which is thought fit

through all our town



   

                   

to playin our interlude



   

                   

before the duke and duchess



   

                   

on his wedding day a tnight.



   

                   

But first,

good PeterQuince,



   

                   

say what the play treats on,



   

                   

then read the names

of the actors,



   

                   

and so grow to a point.



   

                   

Marry, our play is

The Most Lamentable Comedy



   

                   

and Cruel Death

of Pyramus and Thisby.



   

                   

A very good piece of work,

I assure you, and a merry.



   

                   

Now, good PeterQuince,

call forth your actors



   

                   

by the scroll.



   

                   

Masters...



   

                   

spread yourselves.



   

                   

So, uh, answer as I call you.



   

                   

Nick Bottom the weaver.



   

                   

Ready.



   

                   

Name what part I am for,

and proceed.



   

                   

You, Nick Bottom,

are set down for Pyramus.



   

                   

What is Pyramus?



   

                   

A lover or a tyrant?



   

                   

He's a lover

that kills himself,



   

                   

most gallant, for love.



   

                   

All:Ahh.



   

                   

That will ask some tears

in the true performing of it.



   

                   

If I do it, let the audience

look to their eyes.



   

                   

I will move storms.



   

                   

I will condole in some measure.



   

                   

Now,to the rest.



   

                   

Quince:Well--



   

                   

Yet, my chief humor

is for a tyrant.



   

                   

I could play Ercles rarely,



   

                   

or a part to tear a catin,



   

                   

to make all split.



   

                   

Francis Flute--



   

                   

The raging rocks



   

                   

and shivering shocks

shall break the locks



   

                   

of prison gates,



   

                   

and Phibbus' car



   

                   

shall shine from far



   

                   

and... make and mar



   

                   

the foolish fates.



   

                   

Ha ha ha.



   

                   

This was lofty. Ha ha.



   

                   

Uh, ahem, Pyramus.



   

                   

Uh, Francis Flute

the bellows-mender.



   

                   

Here, PeterQuince.



   

                   

Francis Flute,



   

                   

you must take Thisby on you.



   

                   

What is Thisby?

A wandering knight?



   

                   

He's the lady

that Pyramus must love.



   

                   

[ Laughing ]



   

                   

Nay, faith,

let not me play a woman.



   

                   

I have a beard coming.



   

                   

And I may hide my face,

let me play Thisby,too.



   

                   

Ohh--



   

                   

I'll speak in

a monstrous little voice:



   

                   

''Thisne, Thisne!''



   

                   

Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear,



   

                   

thy Thisby dear, and lady dear!''



   

                   

Ohh!



   

                   

No, no,

you must play Pyramus.



   

                   

Snout...



   

                   

and Flute, you Thisby.



   

                   

[Applause ]



   

                   

Robin Starveling the tailor.



   

                   

Here, PeterQuince.



   

                   

Ah,well...



   

                   

Snug the joiner,

you the lion's part.



   

                   

Ahh.



   

                   

And I hope we have

a play well fitted.



   

                   

Have you

the lion's part written?



   

                   

Pray you, if it be,

give it me,



   

                   

for I am slow of study.



   

                   

No, you may do it extempore,



   

                   

for it is nothing but roaring.



   

                   

Roar!



   

                   

Roar!



   

                   

Let me play the lion, too.



   

                   

I will roar that I will do



   

                   

any man's heart good to hear me.



   

                   

I will roar that

I will make the duke say,



   

                   

''Let him roar again.

Let him roar again!''



   

                   

But you should do it

too terribly,



   

                   

that you would fright



   

                   

the duchess and the ladies,



   

                   

and they would shriek.



   

                   

And that were enough

to hang us all.



   

                   

I grant you, friends,



   

                   

if I should fright the ladies

out of their wits,



   

                   

they would have no more

discretion but to hang us.



   

                   

But I will aggravate my voice

so that I will roar you



   

                   

as gently as any sucking dove;



   

                   

I will roar you

an 'twere any nightingale.



   

                   

[Quietly Roaring ]



   

                   

[ Laughing ]



   

                   

[ Dog Barking ]



   

                   

Aah--



   

                   

[ Laughing ]



   

                   

You can play no part

but Pyramus.



   

                   

Pyramus is a sweet-faced man,



   

                   

a proper man as one shall see

in a summer's day,



   

                   

a most lovely gentlemanlike man.



   

                   

Therefore you must

needs play Pyramus.



   

                   

Well...



   

                   

I will undertake it.



   

                   

Masters,

you have all your parts,



   

                   

and I am to entreat you

to con them by tomorrow night



   

                   

and to meet in the palace wood,

a mile without the town.



   

                   

There will we rehearse.



   

                   

If we meet in the city,

we will be dogged by company



   

                   

and our devices known.



   

                   

Pray you fail me not.



   

                   

We will meet



   

                   

and there we may rehearse



   

                   

most obscenely

and courageously.



   

                   

Take pains.



   

                   

Be perfect.



   

                   

Adieu.



   

                   

[ Italian Operatic Singing ]



   

                   

[Sighs ]



   

                   

[Thunder ]



   

                   

[Thunder ]



   

                   

Ere Demetrius looked

on Hermia's eyne,



   

                   

he hailed down oaths

that he was only mine.



   

                   

And when this hail

some heat from Hermia felt,



   

                   

so he dissolved,



   

                   

and showers of oaths did melt.



   

                   

I will go tell him

of fair Hermia's flight.



   

                   

Then to the wood this very night



   

                   

will he pursue her.



   

                   

[Thunder ]



   

                   

[ Pipes Playing ]



   

                   

Get off!.



   

                   

Get off there!



   

                   

Ah, fie!



   

                   

Oh, sweet beauty!



   

                   

How now, spirit?



   

                   

Whit her wander you?



   

                   

Over hill, over dale,



   

                   

through bush,

through a briar,



   

                   

over park, over pale,



   

                   

through flood, through a fire,



   

                   

I do wander everywhere.



   

                   

Swifter than the moon's sphere.



   

                   

And I serve the fairy queen,



   

                   

to dew her orbs upon the green.



   

                   

Either I mistake your shape

and making quite,



   

                   

or else you are that shrewd

and knavish sprite



   

                   

called Robin Goodfellow.



   

                   

Are not you he



   

                   

that frights the maidens

of the villagery--



   

                   

Psst!



   

                   

Skims milk, and sometimes

labors in the quern



   

                   

and bootless makes

the breathless housewife churn?



   

                   

Are not you he?



   

                   

Thou speak'sta right.



   

                   

I am that merry wanderer

of the night.



   

                   

I jest to Oberon



   

                   

and make him smile



   

                   

when I a fatand

bean-fed horse beguile,



   

                   

neighing in likeness

of a filly foal.



   

                   

And sometimes...



   

                   

Ugh!



   

                   

Farewell,thou lob of spirits.



   

                   

I'll be gone.



   

                   

The queen and all herelves

come here anon.



   

                   

The king doth keep

his revels here tonight.



   

                   

Take heed the queen come

not within his sight.



   

                   

For Oberon



   

                   

is passing fell



   

                   

and wrath.



   

                   

[ Urinating ]



   

                   

- Hey!

-Go on.



   

                   

Ill met by moonlight,

proud Titania.



   

                   

What,jealous Oberon!



   

                   

Fairies, skip hence.



   

                   

I have forsworn

his bed and company.



   

                   

Tarry!



   

                   

Rashwanton,



   

                   

am not I thy lord?



   

                   

Then I must be thy lady.



   

                   

Why art thou here,



   

                   

come from

the farthest steppe of India,



   

                   

but that, for sooth,

the bouncing Amazon,



   

                   

your buskin'd mistress

and your warrior love,



   

                   

to Theseus must be wedded,



   

                   

and you come to give their bed



   

                   

joy and prosperity.



   

                   

How canst thou thus

for shame, Titania,



   

                   

glance at my credit

with Hippolyta,



   

                   

knowing I know

thy love to Theseus?



   

                   

These are the forgeries

of jealousy.



   

                   

And never, since

the middle summer's spring,



   

                   

met we on hill,

in dale, forest, or mead,



   

                   

by paved fountain

or by rushy brook,



   

                   

but with thy brawls



   

                   

thou hast disturbed our sport.



   

                   

Therefore, the winds,

piping to us in vain,



   

                   

as in revenge,



   

                   

have sucked up from the sea

contagious fogs,



   

                   

which, falling in the land,



   

                   

hath every pelting river

made so proud



   

                   

that they have overborne

their continents.



   

                   

And this same progeny

of evils comes



   

                   

from our debate, 



   

                   

from our dissension.



   

                   

We are their parents

and original.



   

                   

Do you amend it then?



   

                   

It lies in you.



   

                   

Why should Titania

cross her Oberon?



   

                   

I do but beg

a little changeling boy



   

                   

to be my henchman.



   

                   

Set your heart at rest.



   

                   

The fairyland buys

not the child of me.



   

                   

His mother was

a votaress of my order,



   

                   

and in the spiced Indian air,



   

                   

by night, full often

hath she gossiped by my side



   

                   

and sat with me

on Neptune's yellow sands,



   

                   

marking the embarked traders

on the flood



   

                   

when we have laughed

to see the sails conceive



   

                   

and growbig-bellied

with the wanton wind.



   

                   

But she, being mortal,

of that boy did die,



   

                   

and for her sake

do I rear up her boy.



   

                   

And for her sake



   

                   

I will not part with him.



   

                   

How long within this wood

intend you stay?



   

                   

Perchance till after

Theseus'wedding day.



   

                   

If you will patiently

dance in our round...



   

                   

and see our moonlight revels,



   

                   

go with us.



   

                   

Give me that boy,

and I will go with thee.



   

                   

Not for thy fairy kingdom!



   

                   

Fairies, away!



   

                   

We shall chide downright

if I longer stay.



   

                   

Well, go thy way.



   

                   

Thou shalt not from this grove



   

                   

till I torment thee

for this injury.



   

                   

My gentle Puck, come hit her.



   

                   

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 a ther song.



   

                   

That verytime, I saw,

but thou couldst not,



   

                   

flying between the cold

moon and the Earth,



   

                   

Cupid all armed.



   

                   

A certain aim he took



   

                   

and loosed his love shaft smartly



   

                   

from his bow.



   

                   

Yet, marked I where

the bolt of Cupid fell.



   

                   

It fell upon

a little western flower,



   

                   

before milk-white,



   

                   

now purple with love'swound.



   

                   

Fetch me that flower.



   

                   

The juice of it,

on sleeping eyelids laid,



   

                   

will make all man, all woman

madly dote



   

                   

upon the next live creature

that it sees.



   

                   

Fetch me this herb



   

                   

and be thou here again



   

                   

ere the leviathan

can swim a league.



   

                   

I'll puta girdle

round about the Earth



   

                   

in    minutes.



   

                   

Having once this juice,



   

                   

I'll watch Titania

when she's asleep



   

                   

and drop the liquor of it

in hereyes.



   

                   

The next thing then

she waking looks upon...



   

                   

she shall pursue it

with the soul oflove.



   

                   

And ere I take this charm

from off her sight,



   

                   

I'll make her render up

herpage to me.



   

                   

I'll make her render up

herpage to me.



   

                   

Demetrius: I love thee not,

therefore pursue me not!



   

                   

Where is Lysanderand fair Hermia?



   

                   

Thou toldst me they were

stolen unto this wood,



   

                   

and here am I,

and wode within this wood,



   

                   

because I cannot meet my Hermia!



   

                   

Hence!



   

                   

Get thee gone

and follow me no more!



   

                   

[ Honk Honk ]



   

                   

[ Honk Honk ]



   

                   

[Giggling ]



   

                   

Do I entice you?



   

                   

Do I speak you fair?



   

                   

Or rather, do I not

in plainest truth tell you



   

                   

I do not,

nor I cannot, love you?



   

                   

And even for that

do I love you the more.



   

                   

I am your spaniel.



   

                   

And, Demetrius,

the more you beat me,



   

                   

I will fawn on you.



   

                   

Use me but as your spaniel.



   

                   

Spurn me, strike me,



   

                   

neglect me, lose me,

but give me leave,



   

                   

unworthy as I am,

to follow you.



   

                   

What worser place

can I beg in your love



   

                   

than to be used

as you use your dog?



   

                   

Tempt not too much

the hatred of my spirit,



   

                   

for I am sick

when I do look on thee.



   

                   

And I am sick

when I look not on you!



   

                   

Do...



   

                   

impeach your modesty



   

                   

too much



   

                   

to leave the city



   

                   

and commit yourself

into the hands of one



   

                   

that loves you not?



   

                   

To trust the opportunity

of night...



   

                   

and the ill counsel

of a desert place



   

                   

with the richworth

of your virginity?



   

                   

Your virtue



   

                   

is my privilege.



   

                   

For that



   

                   

it is not night

when I do see your face.



   

                   

Therefore I think

I am not in the night.



   

                   

Nor doth this wood

lack worlds of company,



   

                   

for you in my respect

are all the world.



   

                   

I'll run from thee



   

                   

and hide me in the brakes



   

                   

and leave thee to

the mercy of wild beasts!



   

                   

The wildest hath not

such a heart as you.



   

                   

Run when you will,



   

                   

the story shall be changed.



   

                   

Apollo flies,

and Daphne holds the chase.



   

                   

The dove pursues the griffin.



   

                   

I will not stay thy questions!



   

                   

Let me go!



   

                   

Or if thou follow me,

do not believe



   

                   

but I shall do thee

mischief in the wood!



   

                   

Aye, in the temple,

in the town, in the field,



   

                   

you do me mischief--oh!



   

                   

Fie, Demetrius!



   

                   

Your wrongs do set

a scandal on my sex!



   

                   

Oh!



   

                   

We cannot fight for love

as men may do.



   

                   

We should be wooed



   

                   

and were not made to woo.



   

                   

I'll follow thee



   

                   

and make a heaven of hell



   

                   

to die upon the hand

I love so well.



   

                   

Fare thee well, nymph.



   

                   

Ere he shall leave this grove,



   

                   

thou shalt fly him,



   

                   

and he shall seek thy love.



   

                   

Hast thou the flower there?



   

                   

Ahh...



   

                   

I know a bank where

the wild thy me blows,



   

                   

where oxlips and

the nodding violet grows,



   

                   

quite over canopied

with the luscious woodbine,



   

                   

with sweetmusk-roses

and with eglantine.



   

                   

There sleeps Titania

sometime of the night.



   

                   

Lulled in these flowers

with dances and delight.



   

                   

And there the snake

throws her enameled skin,



   

                   

weed wide enough

to wrap a fairy in.



   

                   

With the juice of this

I'll streak her eyes



   

                   

and make her full

of hateful fantasies.



   

                   

Take thou some of it



   

                   

and seek through this grove.



   

                   

A sweet Athenian lady

is in love



   

                   

with a disdainful youth.



   

                   

Anoin this eyes,



   

                   

but do it when

the next thing he espies



   

                   

maybe the lady.



   

                   

Thou shalt know the man



   

                   

by the Athenian garments

he hath on.



   

                   

And look...



   

                   

thou meet me ere

the firstcock crow.



   

                   

Fear not, my lord.



   

                   

Your servant shall do so.



   

                   

Hello, my queen.



   

                   

How sweet! Hello.



   

                   

Sing me now asleep.



   

                   

Then to thy offices

and let me rest.



   

                   

[Music Begins ]



   

                   

Hence, away.



   

                   

Now all is well.



   

                   

One a loof stands sentinel.



   

                   

What thou seest

when thou dost awake,



   

                   

do it for thy true love take.



   

                   

Love...



   

                   

and languish for his sake.



   

                   

Be it ounce orcator bear,



   

                   

pard, or boar

with bristled hair...



   

                   

In thy eye that doth appear



   

                   

when thou wakest,



   

                   

it is thy dear.



   

                   

Wake when some vile thing

is near.



   

                   

Fairlove.



   

                   

You faint when wandering

in the wood,



   

                   

and to speak troth,



   

                   

I forgot our way.



   

                   

Oh.



   

                   

We'll rest us, Hermia,

if you think it good



   

                   

and tarry for the comfort

of the day.



   

                   

Be it so, Lysander.



   

                   

Well, find you out a bed...



   

                   

for I upon this bank

shall rest my head.



   

                   

Lysander!



   

                   

One turfshall serve

as pillow for us both.



   

                   

One heart, one bed.



   

                   

Two bosoms and one troth.



   

                   

Nay, good Lysander.

For my sake, my dear,



   

                   

lie further off yet.

Do not lie so near.



   

                   

Oh,take the sense,

sweet, of my innocence.



   

                   

I mean...



   

                   

that my heart unto yours is knit



   

                   

so that but one heart



   

                   

we can make of it.



   

                   

Two bosoms



   

                   

interchained with an oath



   

                   

so then two bosoms

in a single troth.



   

                   

Then by your side,



   

                   

no bedroom me deny.



   

                   

For lying so, Hermia,



   

                   

I do not lie.



   

                   

Lysander riddles very prettily.



   

                   

Mmm.



   

                   

Nay, gentle friend.



   

                   

Mmm!



   

                   

For love and courtesy,

lie further off.



   

                   

In human modesty...



   

                   

such separation

as may well be said



   

                   

becomes a virtuous bachelor

and a maid.



   

                   

So far be distant.



   

                   

And good night, sweet friend.



   

                   

Thy love ne'er alter



   

                   

till thy sweet life end.



   

                   

Amen.



   

                   

Amen to that fair prayer,

say I.



   

                   

And then end life



   

                   

when I end loyalty.



   

                   

Here is my bed.



   

                   

Sleep give thee all his rest.



   

                   

With half that wish,

the wisher's eyes be pressed.



   

                   

Through the forest have I gone,



   

                   

but Athenian found I none

on whose eyes I might approve



   

                   

this flower's force

in stirring love.



   

                   

[ Bird Calls ]



   

                   

Night...



   

                   

and silence.



   

                   

But who is here?



   

                   

Weeds of Athens

he doth wear--oh!



   

                   

This is he, my master said,

despised the Athenian maid.



   

                   

[ Honk ]



   

                   

And there the maiden,

sleeping sound



   

                   

on the dank and dirty ground.



   

                   

Pretty soul.



   

                   

She durst not lie

with this lack-love,



   

                   

this kill-courtesy.



   

                   

Churl,

upon thy eyes I throw



   

                   

all the power

this charm doth owe.



   

                   

When thou wakest,

let love forbid



   

                   

sleep his seaton thy eyelid.



   

                   

And so awake when I am gone,



   

                   

for I must now...



   

                   

to Oberon!



   

                   

[ Honks Horn ]



   

                   

I charge thee hence,



   

                   

and do not haunt me thus.



   

                   

Oh,wilt thou darkling leave me?



   

                   

Do not so.



   

                   

Stay on thy peril.



   

                   

I alone will go.



   

                   

[ Breathing Hard ]



   

                   

I am out of breath

in this fond chase.



   

                   

The more my prayer,

the lesser is my grace.



   

                   

Happy is Hermia,

where soe'er she lies,



   

                   

for she hath blessed

and attractive eyes.



   

                   

How came her eyes so bright?



   

                   

Not with salt tears.



   

                   

If so, my eyes are oftener

washed than hers.



   

                   

No.



   

                   

No, no.



   

                   

No.



   

                   

I am as...ugly...



   

                   

as a bear.



   

                   

For beasts that meet me

run away for fear.



   

                   

Lysander?



   

                   

Dead or asleep?



   

                   

Lysander, if you live,

good sir, awake.



   

                   

Oh.



   

                   

And run through fire

I will for thy sweet sake.



   

                   

Where is Demetrius?



   

                   

Oh, how fit a word

is that vile name



   

                   

to perish on my sword.



   

                   

Do not say so, Lysander.

Say not so.



   

                   

What?

Though he love your Hermia?



   

                   

Lord, what though?



   

                   

Yet Hermia still loves you,



   

                   

then be content.



   

                   

Content with Hermia?



   

                   

No. I do repent

the tedious minutes



   

                   

I with her have spent.



   

                   

Not Hermia, but Helena I love.



   

                   

Who will not change

a raven for a dove?



   

                   

Wherefore was I



   

                   

to this keen mockery born?



   

                   

When at your hands



   

                   

did I deserve such scorn?



   

                   

Is't not enough,



   

                   

is't not enough, young man,



   

                   

that I did never,

no, nor never can,



   

                   

deserve a sweetlook

from Demetrius' eye



   

                   

but you must flout

my insufficiency?



   

                   

Oh, but fare you well.



   

                   

Per force I must confess,



   

                   

I thought you lord

of more true gentleness.



   

                   

She sees not Hermia.



   

                   

Hermia, sleeps thou there,



   

                   

and never mayst thou come

Lysander near.



   

                   

And, all my powers,



   

                   

address your love and might



   

                   

to honor Helen



   

                   

and to be her knight!



   

                   

[Sighs ]



   

                   

Aye, me.



   

                   

For pity,

what a dream was here.



   

                   

Ohh.



   

                   

Lysander, look how I do quake...



   

                   

with fear.



   

                   

Lysander?



   

                   

Lysander?



   

                   

Lysander!



   

                   

[Men Singing ]



   

                   

Here's a marvelous,

convenient place



   

                   

for our rehearsal.



   

                   

This green plot

shall be our stage,



   

                   

this hawthorn brake

our tiring house,



   

                   

and we will, uh,



   

                   

do it in action



   

                   

as we will do it

before the duke.



   

                   

PeterQuince.



   

                   

What sayest thou,

bully Bottom?



   

                   

There are things in this

Comedy of Pyramus and...



   

                   

Thisby.



   

                   

Thisby that will never please.



   

                   

First, Pyramus must draw a sword



   

                   

to kill himself



   

                   

which the ladies cannot abide.



   

                   

By our lady, a parlous fear.



   

                   

I believe we must

leave the killing out



   

                   

when all is done.



   

                   

Not a whit.



   

                   

I have a device to make all well.



   

                   

Write me a prologue,



   

                   

and let the prologue seem to say



   

                   

we will do no harm

with our swords



   

                   

and that Pyramus is not

killed indeed,



   

                   

and for the more better assurance



   

                   

tell them that I, Pyramus,



   

                   

am not Pyramus,



   

                   

but Bottom the weaver.



   

                   

This will put them out of fear.



   

                   

Oh,well,we will have

such a prologue,



   

                   

and it shall be written

in, uh,   and  .



   

                   

No, make it   more.



   

                   

Let it be written

in   and  .



   

                   

But there is   hard things:



   

                   

That is to bring

the moonlight into a chamber,



   

                   

for, you know, Pyramus

and Thisby meet by moonlight.



   

                   

Doth the moon shine



   

                   

that night we play our play?



   

                   

A calendar. A calendar!



   

                   

Calendar.



   

                   

Look in the almanac.



   

                   

Find out if the moon shine.



   

                   

Find out moon shine.



   

                   

It doth shine that night.



   

                   

It doth shine that night.



   

                   

Why, then may you leave



   

                   

a casement

of the great chamber window



   

                   

open where we play,



   

                   

and the moon may shine in



   

                   

at the casement.



   

                   

Two hard things.



   

                   

We must have a wall

in the greatchamber,



   

                   

for Pyramus and Thisby,

says the story,



   

                   

did talk through

the chink of a wall.



   

                   

You can never bring in a wall.



   

                   

What say you, Bottom?



   

                   

Some man



   

                   

or other must present wall.



   

                   

Uh, Sam. Sam.



   

                   

And let him have some plaster



   

                   

or some loam or some

rough cast about him



   

                   

to signify wall.



   

                   

And let him hold his fingers thus,



   

                   

and through that cranny



   

                   

shall Pyramus and...



   

                   

Starveling:Thisby.



   

                   

Thisby whisper.



   

                   

You can never bring in a wall.



   

                   

No, no, no.

A-And if this maybe,



   

                   

then all is well.



   

                   

Quince: Pyramus, you begin,



   

                   

and when you have

spoken your speech,



   

                   

enter into that brake.

Thisby, stand forth.



   

                   

Now, left foot forward

and then antique gesture.



   

                   

Uh, Pyramus, speak.



   

                   

What hempen home spuns

have we swaggering here



   

                   

so near the cradle

of the fairy queen?



   

                   

Line.



   

                   

Quince:Thisby.



   

                   

Thisby,



   

                   

the flowers of odious

savors sweet--



   

                   

Odorous. Odorous.



   

                   

Odorous savors sweet,



   

                   

so hath thy breath,

my dearest Thisby dear.



   

                   

But hark!



   

                   

A voice.



   

                   

Stay thou but here a while,



   

                   

and by and by

I will to thee appear.



   

                   

A stranger Pyramus

than e'er played here.



   

                   

Psst. [Whispering ]

Must I speak now?



   

                   

Aye, marry, must you,

for he goes back



   

                   

to see a noise that he heard



   

                   

and is to come again.



   

                   

Most radiant--



   

                   

Quince: [ Falsetto ]

Most radiant...



   

                   

[ Higher ]

Most radiant--



   

                   

Most radiant...



   

                   

[ Falsetto ]

Most radiant Pyramus...



   

                   

[ Laughter ]



   

                   

Most--



   

                   

Quince: Shh. Shh.



   

                   

Lily-white of hue...



   

                   

If I were fair, Thisby.



   

                   

If I were only thine.



   

                   

[ Falsetto ]

I'll meet thee, Pyramus,



   

                   

at Ninny's tomb.



   

                   

That's Ninus'tomb, man!



   

                   

Why, you must not speak that yet.



   

                   

That you answer to Pyramus.



   

                   

You speak all your part at once,



   

                   

cues and all.



   

                   

Enter, Pyramus!



   

                   

The cue is past.

It is ''never tire.''



   

                   

[To Himself]

If I were fair,Thisby.



   

                   

If I were fair,Thisby.



   

                   

If I were fair,Thisby,



   

                   

I were only thine.



   

                   

Aah! Aah!



   

                   

Aah! Aah!



   

                   

Quince: Oh, monstrous.

Oh, strange.



   

                   

Fly, masters.



   

                   

We are haunted.



   

                   

Oh. Ooh.



   

                   

Bottom,thou art changed.



   

                   

What do I see on thee?



   

                   

What do you see?



   

                   

What, you see an ass-head

of your own, do you?



   

                   

Bless thee, Bottom.

Bless thee.



   

                   

Thou art translated.



   

                   

Aah.



   

                   

[Screaming ]



   

                   

Why do they run away?



   

                   

I see their knavery.



   

                   

This is to make an ass of me,



   

                   

to fright me, if they could,



   

                   

but I will not stir

from this place,



   

                   

do what they can.



   

                   

And I will sing



   

                   

that they shall hear

I am not afraid.



   

                   

*The woosel cock

so black of hue *



   

                   

* With orange-tawnybill *



   

                   

*The throstle

with his note so true *



   

                   

*The wren with little quill *



   

                   

[Voice Breaks ]



   

                   

What angel wakes me

from my flowery bed?



   

                   

*The finch,the sparrow

and the lark *



   

                   

*The plain-song cuckoo gray *



   

                   

* Whose note so many

a man doth mark *



   

                   

* And dares not answer nay *



   

                   

[ Brays ]



   

                   

I pray thee, gentle mortal,

sing again.



   

                   

Mine earis much enamored



   

                   

of thy note.



   

                   

So is mine eye



   

                   

enthralled to thy shape,



   

                   

and thy fair virtues

force, per force,



   

                   

doth move me, on the first view,



   

                   

to say...to swear,



   

                   

I love thee.



   

                   

M-M-Me thinks, mistress,



   

                   

you should have

little reason for that,



   

                   

and yet,



   

                   

to say the truth,



   

                   

reason and love keep little

company together nowadays.



   

                   

[ Laughter ]



   

                   

Nay, I can gleek,

upon occasion.



   

                   

Thou art as wise

as thou art beautiful.



   

                   

Not so, neither.



   

                   

[ Rustling ]



   

                   

If I have wit enough

to get out of this wood,



   

                   

I have enough to serve

mine own turn.



   

                   

Out of this wood

do not desire to go.



   

                   

Oh!



   

                   

Aah!



   

                   

Thou shalt remain here,



   

                   

whether thou wilt or no.



   

                   

I'll give thee fairies

to attend on thee,



   

                   

and they shall fetch thee jewels



   

                   

from the deep



   

                   

and sing while thou



   

                   

on pressed flowers dost sleep,



   

                   

and I will purge

thy mortal grossness so



   

                   

that thou shalt

like an airy spirit go.



   

                   

Peaseblossom! Cobweb.



   

                   

- Ready.

-And I.



   

                   

Moth and Mustardseed.



   

                   

-And I.

-And I.



   

                   

Where shall we go?



   

                   

Be kind and courteous

to this gentleman.



   

                   

Hop in his walks

and gambol in his eyes.



   

                   

Feed him with apricocks

and dewberries,



   

                   

with purple grapes,

green figs,



   

                   

and mulberries.



   

                   

Nod to him, elves,

and do him courtesies.



   

                   

I cry your worship's mercy

heartily.



   

                   

I beseech your worship's name.



   

                   

Cobweb.



   

                   

I shall desire you

of more acquaintance,



   

                   

good Cobweb.



   

                   

If I cut my finger,

I shall make bold--



   

                   

Your name, I pray you.



   

                   

Mustardseed.



   

                   

Oh, I know your patience well.



   

                   

Your kindred have made my eyes



   

                   

waterere now.



   

                   

I shall desire you

of more acquaintance,



   

                   

Mustardseed.



   

                   

[Opera Plays ]



   

                   

Hail, mortal.



   

                   

All: Hail, mortal.



   

                   

Hail, mortal.



   

                   

All: Hail, hail, hail.



   

                   

I wonder if Titania be awaked,



   

                   

then what it was

that next came in her eye



   

                   

which she must dote on

in extremity.



   

                   

How now, mad spirit?



   

                   

What night-rule now

about this haunted grove?



   

                   

My mistress with a monster

is in love.



   

                   

[Whispering ]



   

                   

This falls out better

than I could devise.



   

                   

[ Laughing ]



   

                   

But hast thou yet latched

the Athenian's eyes



   

                   

with the love-juice,

as I did bid thee do?



   

                   

I took him sleeping.



   

                   

That is finished,too.



   

                   

Demetrius: ...so bitter...



   

                   

Stand close.



   

                   

Now I but chide.



   

                   

But I should use thee worse,

for thou, I fear,



   

                   

has given me cause to curse.



   

                   

If thou hast slain Lysander

in his sleep,



   

                   

being o'er shoes in blood,



   

                   

plunge in the deep,

and kill me,too.



   

                   

This is the same Athenian.



   

                   

This is the woman...



   

                   

Uh-huh.



   

                   

But not this the man.



   

                   

Hermia: The sun was not

so true unto the day



   

                   

as he to me.



   

                   

Would he have stolen away

from sleeping Hermia?



   

                   

Where is he?



   

                   

Good Demetrius,

wilt thou give him me?



   

                   

I had rather give

his carcass to my hounds.



   

                   

Ohh. Out, dog.



   

                   

Out, cur.



   

                   

Thou drivest me past the bounds



   

                   

of maiden's patience.



   

                   

And hast thou killed him

while sleeping?









  

  

 
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