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Come, now a roundel and a fairy song; Then, for the third part of a minute, hence; Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds, Some war with rere-mice for their leathern wings, To make my small elves coats, and some keep back The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep; Then to your offices and let me rest.
Come on, let’s have a round dance and a fairy song; Then, for just a moment, go away; Some will kill the worms in the musk-rose buds, Some will fight with bats for their leather wings, To make coats for my tiny elves, and some will keep away The loud owl that hoots and wonders At our strange little spirits. Sing me to sleep; Then get back to your tasks, 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; Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby: Never harm, Nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh; So, good night, with lullaby. Weaving spiders, come not here; Hence, you long-legg’d spinners, hence! Beetles black, approach not near; Worm nor snail, do no offence. Philomel, with melody, & c.
You spotted snakes with double tongues, Thorny hedgehogs, don’t be seen; Newts and blind-worms, don’t do any harm, Don’t come near our fairy queen. Philomel, sing with melody In our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby: Never harm, Nor spell, nor charm, Come near our lovely lady; So, good night, with lullaby. Weaving spiders, stay away; Go away, you long-legged spinners, go! Black beetles, don’t come near; Worms or snails, don’t cause any harm. Philomel, sing with melody, etc.
Hence, away! now all is well: One aloof stand sentinel.
Go away! now everything’s fine: One of you stay behind as a guard.
What thou seest when thou dost wake, Do it for thy true-love take, Love and languish for his sake: Be it ounce, or cat, or bear, Pard, or boar with bristled hair, In thy eye that shall appear When thou wakest, it is thy dear: Wake when some vile thing is near.
Whatever you see when you wake, Do it for the sake of your true love, Love and pine for him: Whether it’s a lion, or a cat, or a bear, A leopard, or a boar with bristly fur, It will appear in your eyes When you wake, it’s your true love: Wake when something vile is near.
Fair love, you faint with wandering in the wood; And to speak troth, I have forgot our way: We’ll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good, And tarry for the comfort of the day.
My dear, you’re exhausted from wandering in the woods; And to be honest, I’ve forgotten our way: Let’s rest here, Hermia, if you think it’s a good idea, And wait for the comfort of the daylight.
Be it so, Lysander: find you out a bed; For I upon this bank will rest my head.
Fine, Lysander: find a bed for yourself; I’ll rest my head here on this bank.
One turf shall serve as pillow for us both; One heart, one bed, two bosoms and one troth.
One patch of grass will be enough for both of us; One heart, one bed, two chests and one promise.
Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear, Lie further off yet, do not lie so near.
No, dear Lysander; for my sake, Lie further away, don’t lie so close.
O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence! Love takes the meaning in love’s conference. I mean, that my heart unto yours is knit So that but one heart we can make of it; Two bosoms interchained with an oath; So then two bosoms and a single troth. Then by your side no bed-room me deny; For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.
Oh, understand, sweet, my innocence! Love understands in the language of love. I mean, my heart is bound to yours So that we can make just one heart of it; Two chests locked together by an oath; So two chests and a single promise. So don’t deny me a bed by your side; For lying here, Hermia, I am not lying.
Lysander riddles very prettily: 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 a maid, So far be distant; and, good night, sweet friend: Thy love ne’er alter till thy sweet life end!
Lysander speaks very sweetly: Now may my manners and my pride be cursed, If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied. But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy, Lie further away; in proper modesty, A little distance is what a virtuous bachelor and a maid should have, So stay far apart; and good night, sweet friend: May your love never change until your sweet life ends!
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!
Amen, amen, to that beautiful prayer, I say; And may I end my life when I end my loyalty! Here is my bed: may sleep grant you all his rest!
With half that wish the wisher’s eyes be press’d!
With half that wish, may the wisher’s eyes be closed!
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 thy 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.
I’ve wandered through the forest. But I couldn’t find any Athenian, On whose eyes I might test This flower’s magic in making love. Night and silence.--Who’s here? He wears the weeds of Athens: This is the one, my master said, Who scorned the Athenian girl; And here’s the girl, fast asleep, On the wet and dirty ground. Poor soul! she wouldn’t lie Near this loveless man, this discourteous fool. You, rude man, I place All the power of this charm upon your eyes. When you wake, let love forbid Sleep to sit on your eyelids: So wake up when I’m gone; For I must go to Oberon.
Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.
Wait, even if you kill me, sweet Demetrius.
I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.
I order you to leave, and don’t follow me like this.
O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not so.
Oh, will you leave me in the dark? Don’t do that.
Stay, on thy peril: I alone will go.
Stay at your own risk: I’ll go alone.
O, I am out of breath in this fond chase! The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace. 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 wash’d 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. What wicked and dissembling glass of mine Made me compare with Hermia’s sphery eyne? But who is here? Lysander! on the ground! Dead? or asleep? I see no blood, no wound. Lysander if you live, good sir, awake.
Oh, I’m out of breath chasing this hopeless dream! The more I pray, the less graceful I become. Hermia is lucky, wherever she may be; For she has beautiful, captivating eyes. How did her eyes get so bright? Not from crying: If so, then my eyes are washed more often than hers. No, no, I’m as ugly as a bear; For animals that see me run away in fear: So it’s no wonder that Demetrius Acts like a monster and runs from me. What wicked, deceiving mirror of mine Made me compare myself to Hermia’s lovely eyes? But who’s this? Lysander! On the ground! Is he dead? Or just asleep? I see no blood, no wound. Lysander, if you’re alive, please wake up.
[Awaking] And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake. Transparent Helena! Nature shows art, That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart. Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word Is that vile name to perish on my sword!
[Waking] I’ll run through fire for your sweet sake. Transparent Helena! Nature has revealed art, Showing me your heart through your chest. Where is Demetrius? Oh, how fitting it would be If that vile name died by 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.
Don’t say that, Lysander; don’t say that What if he loves your Hermia? So what? Hermia still loves you: so be happy.
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? The will of man is by his reason sway’d; And reason says you are the worthier maid. Things growing are not ripe until their season So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason; And touching now the point of human skill, 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.
Happy with Hermia! No; I regret The endless time I’ve spent with her. It’s not Hermia I love, but Helena: Who wouldn’t prefer a dove to a raven? A man’s will is guided by his reason; And reason says you are the worthier woman. Things that grow aren’t ready until their time So I, being young, wasn’t ready to understand; But now, reaching the point of maturity, Reason is guiding my will And leads me to your eyes, where I see Love’s stories written in love’s richest book.
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, good sooth, you do, In such disdainful manner me to woo. But fare you well: perforce I must confess I thought you lord of more true gentleness. O, that a lady, of one man refused. Should of another therefore be abused!
Why was I born to this cruel mockery? When did I deserve such scorn from you? Isn’t it enough, isn’t it enough, young man, That I could never, no, never will, Deserve a kind look from Demetrius’ eye, But you must mock my worthlessness? Honestly, you’re wrong to treat me this way, You’re wrong to try to win me over like this. But goodbye: I must admit I thought you were a man of true kindness. Oh, that a woman, rejected by one man, Should be treated so cruelly by another!
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, Or as tie heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive, So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me! And, all my powers, address your love and might To honour Helen and to be her knight!
She doesn’t see Hermia. Hermia, sleep there: And never let Lysander come near you! For just like too much of the sweetest things Makes the stomach sick, Or like the heresies that people abandon Are hated most by those they deceived, So you, my overindulgence and my betrayal, Will be hated by all, but most by me! And with all my strength, I will dedicate my love To honor Helen and be her knight!
[Awaking] Help me, Lysander, help me! do thy best To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast! Ay me, for pity! what a dream was here! Lysander, look how I do quake with fear: Methought a serpent eat 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, an 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.
[Waking] Help me, Lysander, help me! Do your best To remove this crawling serpent from my chest! Oh, what a horrible dream this was! Lysander, look how I’m shaking with fear: I dreamt a serpent was eating my heart, And you were sitting there smiling at its cruel feast. Lysander! What, gone? Lysander! Where are you? What, no sound, no word? Oh, where are you? Speak, if you can hear me; Speak, for the love of all that’s dear! I’m almost fainting with fear. No? Then I see it now—either death or you will find me soon.