A Midsummer Night's Dream - IPFW Department of Theatre

'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of.

More strange than true.

I shall never 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 a 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.

Such tricks hath strong imagination,

That, if it would but apprehend some joy,

It comprehends some bringer of that joy;

And in the night, imagining some fear,

How easy is a bush supposed a bear!

[Hippolyta] But, all the story of the night told over,

And all their minds transfigured so together,

More witnesses than fancy's images,

And grows to something of great constancy;

[off-stage, laughing]

[Theseus] Here come the lovers,

full of joy and cheer.

Joy, gentle friends!

Joy and fresh day of love accompany your hearts!

[Lysander] More than us wait in your royal walks,

your board, your bed.

[Theseus] Come what masques,

what dances shall we have to wear away the long age

of three hours between our aftersupper and bedtime?

Where is our usual manager of mirth?

What revels are in hand?

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

Call Philostrate.

[Philostrate] Here, mighty Theseus.

[Theseus] Say what abridgment you have for this evening.

What masque? What music?

How shall we beguile the lazy time,

if not with some delight?

[Philostrate] Here is a brief how many sports are ripe;

Make choice of which your highness will see first.

"The battle with the Centaurs,

to be sung by an Athenian eunuch to the harp."

We'll have none of that.

That have I told my love in glory of my kinsman Hercules.

"The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,

Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage."

That is an old device, and was told

When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.

"A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus and his love Thisbe;

very tragical mirth."

Merry and tragical?

Tedious and brief?

That is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow.

How shall we find the concord of this discord?

[Philostrate] A play there is, my lord, some ten words long,

Which is as brief as I have 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.

And tragical, my noble lord, it is,

For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.

Which, when I saw rehearsed, I must confess,

Made mine eyes water.

But more merry tears the passion of loud laughter never shed.

[Theseus] What are they that do play it?

[Philostrate] Hard-handed men that work in Athens here,

Which never labored in their minds till now.

[Theseus] We will hear it.

[Philostrate] No! My lord, it is not for you.

I have heard it over, and it is nothing,

nothing in the world,

Unless you can find sport in their intents,

Extremely stretched and conned with cruel pain,

To do you service.

I will hear this play.

For never can anything be amiss,

When simpleness and duty tender it.

Go, bring them in;

and take your places, ladies.

I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharged.

[Theseus] Why, my sweet, you shall see no such thing.

[Hippolyta] She says they can do nothing in this kind.

[Theseus] The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing.

Our sport shall be to take what they mistake:

And what poor duty cannot do,

Noble respect takes it in might, not merit.

Trust me, sweet.

[Philostrate] So please your Grace, the Prologue is addressed.

[Flourish trumpets]

[Theseus] Let him approach.

If we offend,

it is with our good will.

That you should think, we come not to offend,

But with our good will.

To show our simple skill,

That is the true beginning of our end.

Consider, then, we come but in despite.

We come not, as minding to content you,

Our true intent is.

All for your delight,

We are not here.

That you must here repent you,

The actors are at hand;

And with their show,

You shall know all, that you are like to know.

[Theseus] This fellow doth not stand upon points.

[Lysander] He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt;

he knows not the stop.

A good moral, my Lord:

it is not enough to speak, but to speak true.

[Hippolyta] Indeed, he hath played upon this prologue

like a child on a recorder;

A sound, but not in government.

[Theseus] His speech was like a tangled chain;

nothing impaired, but all disordered.

Who is next?

[Quince] Gentles,

Perchance you wonder at this show;

But wonder on,

till truth makes all things plain.

This man is Pyramus, if you would know.

This beauteous lady Thisbe is certain.

This man,

with lime and roughcast,

doth present Wall,

that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder;

And through Wall's chink, poor souls,

they are content to whisper.

At the which let no man wonder.

This man, with lantern, dog,

[woof,woof!]

and bush of thorn, presenteth Moonshine;

for, if you will know,

By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn

To meet at Ninus' tomb,

there, there to woo.

This grisly beast,

which Lion hight by name,

The trusty Thisbe, coming first by night,

Did scare away, or rather did affright;

And as she fled,

her mantle she did fall,

Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain.

Anon comes Pyramus,

sweet youth and tall,

And finds his trusty Thisbe's mantle slain:

Whereat, with blade,

with bloody blameful blade,

He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast;

And Thisbe, tarrying in the mulberry shade,

His dagger drew and died.

For the rest,

let Lion, Moonshine, Wall

and lovers twain, at large discourse,

while here they do remain.

[Theseus] I wonder if the lion be to speak.

[Demetrius] No wonder, my lord.

One lion may, when many asses do.

[laughter]

In this same interlude it doth befall

That I, one Snout by name,

present a wall;

And such a wall, as I would have you think,

That had in it a crannied hole or chink,

Though which the lovers,

Pyramus and Thisbe,

Did whisper often very secretly.

This loam, this roughcast,

and this stone doth show

That I am that same wall;

The truth is so;

And this, the cranny, is both right and sinister.

Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.

[Theseus] Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?

[Demetrius] It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord.

[Bottom as Pyramus] O grim-looked night!

O night with hue so black!

O night, which ever art when day is not!

O night, O night!

Alack, alack, alack!

I fear my Thisbe's promise is forgot!

Chink!

[Bottom] And thou, wall,

O sweet, O lovely wall,

That stands between her father's ground and mine!

Thou wall, O sweet and lovely wall,

Show me thy chink,

to blink through with mine eyne.

Thanks, courteous wall.

Jove shield thee well for this!

But what see I?

No Thisbe do I see.

O wicked wall, though whom I see no bliss!

Cursed by thy stones for thus deceiving me!

[Theseus] The wall, methinks, being sensible,

should curse again.

[Bottom] No, no, no, no, no, in truth sir, he should not.

"Deceiving me" is Thisbe's cue.

She is to enter,

and I am to spy her though the hole in the wall.

You will see it will fall pat as I told you.

Yonder she comes.

[Flute as Thisbe] O wall, full often hast heard my moans

For parting my 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,

And I may hear my Thisbe's face.

Thisbe.

[Flute] My love!

Thou art my love, I think.

[Bottom] Think what thou wilt,

I am thy lover's grace.

And, like Limander, am I trusty still.

[Flute] And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill.

[Bottom] Never was Shafalus to Procrus so true.

[Flute] As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.

[Bottom] O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall!

[Flute] I kiss the wall's hole,

not your lips at all.

[Bottom] Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightaway?

[Flute] 'Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay.

Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so;

And, being done, thus wall away doth go.

[Theseus] Now is the mural down between the two neighbors.

[Hippolyta] This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.

[Theseus] The best in this kind are but shadows;

the worst, no worse, if imagination amend them.

[Hippolyta] It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.

[Theseus] If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves,

they may pass for excellent men.

Here come two noble beasts,

a man and a lion.

[breathing quickly]

You,

ladies, you,

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.

Roaaarr!!!

Ooo hoo hoo!

Well then know that I,

as Snug 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.

Boo hoo hoo!

[Theseus] A very gentle beast,

and of good conscience.

[Demetrius] The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw.

[Lysander] The lion is a very fox for his valor.

[Theseus] True, and a goose for his discretion.

[Demetrius] Not so, my lord;

for his valor cannot carry his discretion.

[Theseus] His discretion, I am sure,

cannot carry his valor.

It is well.

Let us listen to the moon.

This lanthorn doth the horned moon present --

[Demetrius] He should have worn the horns on his head.

[Theseus] His horns are invisible.

This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;

myself the man in the moon do seem to be.

[Theseus] This is the greatest error of all the rest.

The man should be put into the lanthorn.

How else is it the man in the moon?

[Demetrius] He dares not come there for the candle;

for, you see, it is already in snuff.

[Theseus] It appears by his small light of discretion,

that he is in the wane.

[Hippolyta] I am aweary of this moon. Would that he would change.

[Lysander] Proceed, Moon.

[Starveling as Moonshine] All I have to say to tell you,

is the lanthorn is the moon,

I, the man in the moon,

this thorn bush my thorn bush,

and this dog, woof woof, my dog!

[Demetrius] All these should be in the lanthorn;

for all these are in the moon.

[Helena] But silence, here comes Thisbe.

[Flute as Thisbe] This is old Ninny's tomb --

[Quince, off] Ninus!!

[Flute] Where is my love?

This is old Ninny's tomb.

Where is my love??

This is old Ninny's tomb!

Where is my love??

[Snug] Oh.

Rooooarr!

[Flute] Aahhh!

Aaaah!

[Demetrius] Well roared, Lion.

[Theseus] Well run, Thisbe.

[Hippolyta] Well shone, Moon.

[Snug] Oh.

Brrrrrr.

Brrrrrr.

ROAR!!

ROAR!!

[Lysander] And so the lion vanished.

[Demetrius] And then came Pyramus.

[Bottom, as Pyramus] Sweet Moon,

I thank thee for thy sunny beams.

I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright;

For, by thy gracious,

golden,

glittering gleams,

I trust to take of truest Thisbe sight---

But stay, O spite.

But mark, poor knight.

What dreadful dole is here?

Eyes, can you see what can it be?

O dainty duck.

O dear. Thy mantle good, what,

stained with blood!

Appr---

Approach, ye Furies fell!

O Fates, come, come,

Cut thread and thrum;

Quail, crush,

conclude and quell!

[crying]

[Theseus] This passion, and the death of a dear friend,

would go near to make a man look sad.

[Bottom crying]

[Hippolyta] Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.

O 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 liked,

that loved,

that looked with cheer.

Come, tears, confound;

Out, sword, and wound the pap of Pyramus.

Ay, that left pap,

Where heart doth hop.

Thus, die, I,

thus,

thus,

[groaning]

Now am I dead,

Now am I fled;

My soul is in the sky.

Tongue, lose thy light;

Moon, take thy flight.

[whispered] Moon, take thy flight!

Oooh!

Now, die

die,

die,

die,

die,

[all] DIE!!!

[Theseus] With the help of a surgeon, he may yet recover,

and yet prove an ass.

[Hippolyta] How chance Moonshine is gone

before Thisbe comes back and finds her love?

[Theseus] She shall find him by starlight.

[Flute as Thisbe] Pyramus!

[Theseus] Her she comes, and her passion end the play.

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

[Flute as Thisbe, high voice] Pyramus!

[Hippolyta] I hope she will be brief.

[Lysander] Oh, she has spied him already with those sweet eyes.

Asleep, my love?

What, dead, my dove?

O Pyramus, Pyramus!

O Pyramus, arise!

Speak, speak.

Quite dumb?

Dead, dead?

A tomb must cover thy sweet eyes.

These lily lips,

This cherry nose,

These yellow cowslip cheeks,

are gone.

Are gone.

Lovers, make moan.

Lovers make moan!

[All, moaning]

His eyes were green as leeks.

O Sisters Three, come, come to me,

With hands as pale as milk;

Lay them in gore, since you have a shore,

With shears his thread of silk.

Tongue, not a word.

Come, trusty sword.

Come, trusty swooooord.

[Bottom] Ooooohh.

Come, blade, my breast imbrue!

Come blade, my breast imbrue!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Ahhhhhh!

And, farewell, friends.

Thus Thisbe ends.

Adieu,

adieu,

adieu.

[Theseus] Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead.

[Demetrius] Ay, and Wall too.

[Bottom] No! No.

The wall that parted their fathers is down.

Now, will it please you to hear the epilogue --

[all] No!

[Bottom] Or, to see a Bergomask between two of our company?

[Theseus] No epilogue, I pray you.

For your play needs no excuse.

Never excuse, for when the players are all dead,

there need none to be blamed.

Marry, if he that played Pyramus,

if he that writ it had played Pyramus,

and hanged himself in Thisbe's garter,

it would have been a fine tragedy.

And it was, truly.

And very notably discharged.

But, come, your Bergomask.

Let your epilogue alone.

[Music]

[Music speeds up]

Roar!

[music]

[Music stops, applause]

[Bell tolls]

[Theseus] The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve.

Lovers, to bed;

'tis almost fairy time.

And this palpable-gross play hath well beguiled

The heavy gait of night.

Sweet friends, to bed.

A fortnight hold we this solemnity,

In nightly revels and new jollity.

[Puck] 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 wretch 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 its 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.

[Oberon] Through this house give glimmering light,

By the dead and drowsy fire:

Every elf and fairy sprite

Hop as light as bird from brier;

And this ditty, after me, sing,

And dance it trippingly.

First, rehearse your song by rote,

To each word a warbling note:

Hand in hand, with fairy grace,

Will we sing, and bless this place.

[music]

[Oberon] Now, until the break of day,

Through this house each fairy stray.

To the best bride-bed will we,

Which by us shall be blessed be.

And the issue there create

Ever shall be fortunate.

So shall all the couples three

Ever true in loving be;

And the blots of nature's hand

Shall not in their issue stand.

With this field-dew consecrate,

Every fairy take his gait,

And each several chamber bless,

Through this palace, with sweet peace.

Trip away;

make no stay;

Meet me all by break of day.

[Puck] If we shadows have offended,

Think but this, and all is mended:

That you have but slumbered here,

While 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.

[fast music]

[applause]

[applause]