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Modern English
I wonder if Titania be awaked; Then, what it was that next came in her eye, Which she must dote on in extremity.
I wonder if Titania is awake; Then, what was it that next caught her eye, That she must fall in love with it so intensely.
Here comes my messenger. How now, mad spirit! What night-rule now about this haunted grove?
Here comes my messenger. How’s it going, mischievous spirit! What’s happening in the forest tonight?
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 enter’d 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. When they him spy, As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, Rising and cawing at the gun’s report, Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky, So, at his sight, away his fellows fly; And, at our stamp, here o’er and o’er one falls; He murder cries and help from Athens calls. Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong, Made senseless things begin to do them wrong; For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch; Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all things catch. 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.
My mistress has fallen in love with a monster. Near her private and sacred room, While she was in a deep sleep, A group of clumsy, rude workmen, Who work for a living in Athens, Were gathered together to practice a play For the wedding of great Theseus. The dullest, thickest of that lot, The one who played Pyramus, in their fun, Abandoned his role and ran off into the woods. When I caught him in this mistake, I placed a donkey’s head on his own. Soon, his Thisbe was supposed to come in, And out came my prankster. When they saw him, Like wild geese that spot a hunter, Or red-headed crows, many of them, Rising and squawking at the sound of a gunshot, They scatter and wildly fly away; And with our stamping, one by one they fall; He screams for help and calls for help from Athens. Their senses were weak, and their fear was strong, Making them do foolish things; For briars and thorns grabbed at their clothes; Some sleeves, some hats, and all sorts of things got caught. I led them on in their panic, And left sweet Pyramus standing there: And just then, it happened that Titania woke and immediately fell in love with a donkey.
This falls out better than I could devise. But hast thou yet latch’d the Athenian’s eyes With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do?
This is turning out better than I expected. But have you already used the love juice on the Athenian? As I told you to?
I took him sleeping,--that is finish’d too,-- And the Athenian woman by his side: That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed.
I took him while he was sleeping,--that’s done too,-- And the Athenian woman was by his side: So when he wakes, he’ll be forced to fall in love with her.
Stand close: this is the same Athenian.
Stay close: this is the same Athenian man.
This is the woman, but not this the man.
This is the woman, but not the man.
O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
Oh, why criticize him when he loves you so much? Why speak so harshly to your bitter enemy?
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 sun was not so true unto the day As he to me: would he have stolen away From sleeping Hermia? I’ll believe as soon This whole earth may be bored and that the moon May through the centre creep and so displease Her brother’s noontide with Antipodes. It cannot be but thou hast murder’d him; So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim.
Now I’m just scolding; but I should treat you worse, Because, I fear, you’ve given me reason to curse you, If you’ve killed Lysander in his sleep, And, with your feet covered in blood, thrown him in the deep, And killed me too. The sun was never as loyal to the day As he was to me: would he have run away From sleeping Hermia? I’d sooner believe That the earth could be bored through and that the moon Could creep through the center and upset Her brother’s noon with the opposite side of the world. It can’t be, you must have murdered him; That’s how a murderer looks, so dead, so grim.
So should the murder’d 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.
That’s how the murdered look, and that’s how I look, Pierced through the heart with your harsh cruelty: Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, As Venus does in her shining sphere.
What’s this to my Lysander? where is he? Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?
What’s this got to do with my Lysander? Where is he? Oh, good Demetrius, will you give him back to me?
I had rather give his carcass to my hounds.
I’d rather give his body to my dogs.
Out, dog! out, cur! thou drivest me past the bounds Of maiden’s patience. Hast thou slain him, then? Henceforth be never number’d among men! O, once tell true, tell true, even for my sake! Durst thou have look’d upon him being awake, And hast thou kill’d 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.
Get out, dog! Get out, mongrel! You’ve pushed me beyond the limits Of a maiden’s patience. Did you kill him then? From now on, never be counted among men! Oh, tell the truth, tell the truth, even for my sake! Would you have dared to look at him while he was awake, And did you kill him while he was asleep? Oh, what a cruel act! Couldn’t a worm, a snake, do as much? A snake did it; for with a tongue more double-tongued Than yours, you serpent, no snake ever 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.
You’re wasting your anger on a wrong idea: I’m not guilty of Lysander’s blood; And he’s not dead, as far as I can tell.
I pray thee, tell me then that he is well.
Please, tell me then that he’s okay.
An if I could, what should I get therefore?
And if I could, what would I get from it?
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.
A promise never to see me again. And I’ll leave your hated presence now: Never see me again, whether he’s dead or not.
There is no following her in this fierce vein: Here therefore for a while I will remain. So sorrow’s heaviness doth heavier grow For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe: Which now in some slight measure it will pay, If for his tender here I make some stay.
There’s no way to follow her when she’s in this mood: I’ll stay here for a while. Sorrow’s weight only grows heavier, Like the debt that sorrow owes to sleepless nights: Which now, in some small way, it will pay, If I stay here to rest for a while.
What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quite And laid the love-juice on some true-love’s sight: Of thy misprision must perforce ensue Some true love turn’d and not a false turn’d true.
What have you done? You’ve completely misunderstood And put the love-juice on the wrong person’s eyes: Because of your mistake, there must now follow A true love being turned, and not a false love being made true.
Then fate o’er-rules, that, one man holding troth, A million fail, confounding oath on oath.
Then fate takes over, and one man who’s faithful Causes a million to fail, mixing oaths with broken vows.
About the wood go swifter than the wind, And Helena of Athens look thou find: All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear: By some illusion see thou bring her here: I’ll charm his eyes against she do appear.
Go through the woods faster than the wind, And find Helena of Athens: She’s lovesick and pale from worry, With sighs of love that cost her dear: With some illusion, bring her here: I’ll use a charm to make him fall for her when she appears.
I go, I go; look how I go, Swifter than arrow from the Tartar’s bow.
I’m going, I’m going; look how fast I go, Faster than an arrow from the Tartar’s bow.
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.
The flower of this purple color, Hit by Cupid’s arrow, Sink into the pupil of his eye. When he sees his love, Let her shine as brightly As Venus does in the sky. When you wake, if she’s there, Ask her for help.
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!
Chief of our fairy group, Helena is right here; And the young man, whom I tricked, Begging for a lover’s favor. Should we watch their silly display? Oh, how foolish these mortals are!
Stand aside: the noise they make Will cause Demetrius to awake.
Step aside: the noise they make Will wake Demetrius.
Then will two at once woo one; That must needs be sport alone; And those things do best please me That befal preposterously.
Then two will be trying to woo one; That will definitely be fun; And I love things that happen in ridiculous ways.
Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears: Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?
Why do you think I would mock you when I woo? Mocking and making fun don’t bring tears: Look, when I make vows, I cry; and vows like that, Show all the truth from the start. How can this seem like mockery to you, When I wear the badge of faith, proving I’m sincere?
You do advance your cunning more and more. When truth kills truth, O 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.
You just keep getting better at this trickery. When truth kills truth, oh, what a wicked, twisted fight! These vows belong to Hermia: will you give her up? Weigh one oath against the other, and you’ll find them both Light as a feather, and both just as fake.
I had no judgment when to her I swore.
I had no judgment when I swore to her.
Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o’er.
And you have no judgment now that you’re abandoning her.
Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you.
Demetrius loves her, and he doesn’t love you.
[Awaking] O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow, Fann’d with the eastern wind, turns to a crow When thou hold’st up thy hand: O, let me kiss This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!
[Awaking] Oh Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine! What should I compare your eyes to? Crystal looks dirty compared to them. Oh, how perfect your lips, Like tempting cherries, grow more kissable! That pure white snow, like the high Taurus mountains, When touched by the eastern wind, turns as dark as a crow When you raise your hand: oh, let me kiss This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!
O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent To set against me for your merriment: If you we re 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 superpraise 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: 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, how cruel! Oh, hell! I see you’re all plotting To make fun of me for your amusement: If you were polite and knew some manners, You wouldn’t hurt me like this. Can’t you just hate me, as I know you do, Without joining together to mock me too? If you were real men, as you appear to be, You wouldn’t treat a lady like this; To vow, swear, and praise my qualities, When I know you both hate me in your hearts. You’re both in love with Hermia, And now you’re both mocking Helena: What a fine trick, what a manly task, To bring tears to a poor girl’s eyes With your ridicule! No noble person Would treat a virgin this way, and force A poor soul to endure such pain, just to make you laugh.
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.
You’re being cruel, Demetrius; don’t be like that; You love Hermia; this I know you know: And here, with all good will, with all my heart, I give up my part in Hermia’s love to you; And I’ll take yours for Helena, Whom I love and will love until I die.
Never did mockers waste more idle breath.
No one has ever wasted more breath making fun of someone.
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 sojourn’d, And now to Helen is it home return’d, There to remain.
Lysander, keep Hermia; I don’t want her. If I ever loved her, that love is gone now. My heart stayed with her only briefly, And now it has returned to Helen, And will stay with her.
Helen, it is not so.
Helena, that’s not true.
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.
Don’t insult something you don’t understand, Or you’ll regret it. Look, here comes your love; there’s your dear.
Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, The ear more quick of apprehension makes; Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, It pays the hearing double recompense. Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found; Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound But why unkindly didst thou leave me so?
Dark night, that takes away the ability to see, Makes the ear more sensitive to sounds; Where sight is impaired, Hearing makes up for it. Lysander, I couldn’t find you by sight; But I thank my ears, they led me to your voice. But why did you leave me so cruelly?
Why should he stay, whom love doth press to go?
Why should he stay, when love compels him to leave?
What love could press Lysander from my side?
What love would make Lysander leave my side?
Lysander’s love, that would not let him bide, Fair Helena, who more engilds the night Than all you 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?
Lysander’s love, which wouldn’t let him stay, Beautiful Helena, who brightens the night More than all of you fiery eyes and lights. Why are you following me? Can’t you see, The hatred I feel for you is why I left you?
You speak not as you think: it cannot be.
You’re not speaking what you really feel: it can’t be true.
Lo, she is one of this confederacy! Now I perceive they have conjoin’d 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 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, As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds, Had been incorporate. So we grow together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, But yet an union in partition; Two lovely berries moulded on one stem; So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart; Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, Due but to one and crowned with one crest. 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.
Look, she’s part of this conspiracy! Now I see they’ve teamed up together, To make fun of me, in spite of me. Unkind Hermia! Ungrateful girl! Have you conspired with them, To mock me with this cruel joke? Is everything we shared, all our private talks, Our promises, the hours we spent together, When we cursed time for separating us— Is it all forgotten? Our childhood friendship, our innocence? Hermia, we were like two artificial gods, Making one flower with our needles, Both sitting on the same cushion, Both singing the same song, in the same key, As if our hands, sides, voices, and minds Were one. So we grew together, Like a double cherry, looking separate, But still united in division; Two beautiful berries on one stem; So, two bodies with one heart; Two like coats in heraldry, Meant for one, crowned with one crest. And now you’ll tear apart our love, To join with men in mocking your poor friend? That’s not friendly, it’s not ladylike. My gender, as well as I, could scold you for this, Though I alone feel the hurt.
I am amazed at your passionate words. I scorn you not: it seems that you scorn me.
I’m amazed by your passionate words. I’m not mocking you: it seems you’re mocking me.
Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn, To follow me and praise my eyes and face? And made your other love, Demetrius, Who even but now did spurn me with his foot, 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? What thought I be not so in grace as you, So hung upon with love, so fortunate, But miserable most, to love unloved? This you should pity rather than despise.
Did you not tell Lysander, as an insult, To follow me and praise my eyes and face? And make your other love, Demetrius, Who just now kicked me with his foot, Call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare, Precious, celestial? Why does he say this To the one he hates? And why does Lysander Deny the love that is so deeply in his heart, And instead show me affection, But only because you told him to, because you agreed? What, do you think I’m not as graceful as you, Not as loved, not as fortunate, But the most miserable, to love someone who doesn’t love me back? You should pity me, not despise me.
I understand not what you mean by this.
I don’t understand what you mean by all 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.
Yes, keep going, pretend to be sad, Make faces behind my back; Wink at each other; keep the joke going: This mockery, if carried on well, will be remembered. If you had any pity, grace, or manners, You wouldn’t treat me like this. But goodbye: it’s partly my own fault; Either death or absence will fix it soon.
Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse: My love, my life my soul, fair Helena!
Wait, gentle Helena; hear my excuse: My love, my life, my soul, beautiful Helena!
O excellent!
Oh, great!
Sweet, do not scorn her so.
Please, don’t mock her like that.
If she cannot entreat, I can compel.
If she can’t beg, I’ll make her obey.
Thou canst compel no more than she entreat: Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers. 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.
You can’t force her any more than she can beg. Your threats are as weak as her powerless pleas. Helen, I love you; I swear I do. I swear by my life, which I would give up for you, To prove that anyone who says I don’t love you is lying.
I say I love thee more than he can do.
I say I love you more than he does.
If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too.
If you say so, step aside and show it.
Quick, come!
Hurry, come on!
Lysander, whereto tends all this?
Lysander, what is all this about?
Away, you Ethiope!
Go away, you Ethiopian!
No, no; he’ll [ ] Seem to break loose; take on as you would follow, But yet come not: you are a tame man, go!
No, no; he’ll pretend to break free, act like he’s going to follow, But he won’t actually come. You’re a tame man, go away!
Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! vile thing, let loose, Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent!
Get off me, you cat, you pest! Ugly thing, let go, Or I’ll shake you off like a snake!
Why are you grown so rude? what change is this? Sweet love,--
Why have you become so rude? What’s going on? Sweet love—
Thy love! out, tawny Tartar, out! Out, loathed medicine! hated potion, hence!
Your love? Get away, you dirty savage! Get lost, hated medicine! Evil potion, go away!
Do you not jest?
Are you serious?
Yes, sooth; and so do you.
Yes, really; and so are you.
Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee.
Demetrius, I’ll keep my promise to you.
I would I had your bond, for I perceive A weak bond holds you: I’ll not trust your word.
I wish I had your promise, because I see A weak promise holds you: I won’t trust your word.
What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead? Although I hate her, I’ll not harm her so.
What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead? Even though I hate her, I won’t harm her like that.
What, can you do me greater harm than hate? Hate me! wherefore? O 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--O, the gods forbid!-- In earnest, shall I say?
What, can you do me worse than hate? Hate me! why? Oh no! what’s happening, my love? Am I not Hermia? are you not Lysander? I’m just as pretty now as I was before. Last night you loved me; but since last night you left me: Why, then you left me—oh, the gods forbid! Seriously, should I say it?
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.
Yes, by my life; And I never wanted to see you again. So don’t hope, don’t question, don’t doubt; Be sure, nothing is truer; it’s no joke That I hate you and love Helena.
O me! you juggler! you canker-blossom! You thief of love! what, have you come by night And stolen my love’s heart from him?
Oh, you trickster! you poison-flower! You thief of love! what, did you come at night And steal 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!
Fine, seriously! Don’t you have any modesty, any shame, Any sense of decency? What, are you going to force Impatient words from my gentle mouth? Shame on you! you fake, you puppet, you!
Puppet? why so? ay, that way goes the game. Now I perceive that she hath made compare Between our statures; she hath urged her height; And with her personage, her tall personage, Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail’d 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.
Puppet? why, yes, that’s it. Now I see that she’s comparing our heights; she’s mentioned how tall she is; And with her figure, her tall figure, Her height, indeed, she’s won him over. And have you become so important to him; Just because I’m so short and small? How small am I, you painted pole? speak; How small am I? I’m not so small That my nails can’t reach your 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.
Please, even though you’re mocking me, ladies, Don’t let her hurt me: I’ve never been cruel; I’m not at all good at being rude; I’m a real lady for my cowardice: Don’t let her hit me. You might think, Because she’s a bit shorter than I am, That I can match her.
Lower! hark, again.
Shorter! listen, again.
Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me. I evermore did love you, Hermia, Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong’d you; Save that, in love unto Demetrius, I told him of your stealth unto this wood. He follow’d you; for love I follow’d him; But he hath chid me hence and threaten’d me To strike me, spurn me, nay, 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.
Please, Hermia, don’t be so cruel to me. I’ve always loved you, Hermia, Always kept your secrets, never hurt you; Except that, because I loved Demetrius, I told him about your secret trip to the woods. He followed you; and out of love, I followed him; But he has scolded me and threatened me To hit me, kick me, even kill me: And now, if you’ll just let me go in peace, I’ll go back to Athens and take my foolishness With me, and I won’t follow you anymore: let me go: You see how simple and foolish I am.
Why, get you gone: who is’t that hinders you?
Fine, go ahead: who’s stopping you?
A foolish heart, that I leave here behind.
A foolish heart, which I leave behind here.
What, with Lysander?
What, with Lysander?
With Demetrius.
With Demetrius.
Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena.
Don’t worry; she won’t hurt you, Helena.
No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part.
No, she won’t, even though you’re supporting her.
O, when she’s angry, she is keen and shrewd! She was a vixen when she went to school; And though she be but little, she is fierce.
Oh, when she’s angry, she’s sharp and clever! She was a troublemaker when she was in school; And even though she’s small, she’s tough.
’Little’ again! nothing but ’low’ and ’little’! Why will you suffer her to flout me thus? Let me come to her.
"Small" again! Everything is "small" and "low"! Why do you let her insult me like this? Let me talk to her.
Get you gone, you dwarf; You minimus, of hindering knot-grass made; You bead, you acorn.
Get away, you little thing; You tiny speck of grass; You bead, you acorn.
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.
You’re being too helpful To someone who rejects your help. Leave her alone: don’t talk about Helena; Don’t take her side; because if you do, Even a little bit, show any love for her, You’ll regret it.
Now she holds me not; Now follow, if thou darest, to try whose right, Of thine or mine, is most in Helena.
Now she doesn’t care about me; Now follow me, if you dare, to see who has the right, Whether it’s you or me, to be with Helena.
Follow! nay, I’ll go with thee, cheek by jole.
Follow! No, I’ll go with you, side by side.
You, mistress, all this coil is ’long of you: Nay, go not back.
You, lady, this whole mess is your fault: No, don’t go 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 don’t trust you, I won’t, Nor stay in your nasty company any longer. Your hands are quicker to fight, But my legs are longer to run away.
I am amazed, and know not what to say.
I’m stunned, and don’t know what to say.
This is thy negligence: still thou mistakest, Or else committ’st thy knaveries wilfully.
This is your fault: you’re still making mistakes, Or you’re doing your mischief on purpose.
Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook. Did not you tell me I should know the man By the Athenian garment be had on? And so far blameless proves my enterprise, That I have ’nointed an Athenian’s eyes; And so far am I glad it so did sort As this their jangling I esteem a sport.
Believe me, king of shadows, I made a mistake. Didn’t you tell me I should recognize the man By the Athenian clothes he was wearing? And so far, my task has been without fault, Since I’ve put the juice in an Athenian’s eyes; And I’m glad it worked out this way, Because I consider all this arguing a bit of fun.
Thou see’st these lovers seek a place to fight: Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night; The starry welkin cover thou anon With 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 sometime rail thou like Demetrius; And from each other look thou lead them thus, Till o’er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep: Then crush this herb into Lysander’s eye; Whose liquor hath this virtuous property, To take from thence all error with his might, And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight. When they next wake, all this derision Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision, And back to Athens shall the lovers wend, With league whose date till death shall never end. Whiles 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.
You see these lovers are about to fight: So hurry, Robin, and darken the sky; Cover it with stars and a thick fog, As black as the river of the underworld, And lead these angry rivals far off, So that they don’t cross each other’s paths. Sometimes speak like Lysander, Then stir up Demetrius with harsh words; And sometimes speak like Demetrius; And lead them both away from each other, Until sleep, looking like death, Creeps over their brows with heavy legs and bat wings: Then crush this herb into Lysander’s eye; Its juice has the power To fix all his mistakes and return his sight To what it was before. When they wake up, all this foolishness Will seem like a bad dream, And they will go back to Athens, With their love stronger than ever, A bond that will last forever. While I handle this, I’ll go to my queen and ask for her Indian boy; Then I will release her enchanted eye From the monster’s vision, and everything will be peaceful.
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, They willfully themselves exile from light And must for aye consort with black-brow’d night.
My fairy lord, this needs to be done quickly, Because night’s fast-moving clouds are racing by, And already the first light of dawn is shining; When that happens, ghosts, wandering everywhere, Will return to their graves: all those cursed spirits, Buried in crossroads and rivers, Are already in their worm-filled beds; To avoid the light of day seeing their shame, They purposely stay away from the sunlight And must forever stay with the dark night.
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 his salt green streams. But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay: We may effect this business yet ere day.
But we are spirits of a different kind: I have often played around with love in the morning, And, like a hunter, I can walk through the woods, Even to the eastern horizon, all red with the sun, Opening up to the sea with bright, blessed rays, Turning the salty green waters into golden streams. But still, hurry; don’t waste time: We can still get this done before the day starts.
Up and down, up and down, I will lead them up and down: I am fear’d in field and town: Goblin, lead them up and down. Here comes one.
Up and down, up and down, I’ll lead them all over the place: I’m feared in both the countryside and the town: Goblin, lead them all over the place. Here comes one.
Where art thou, proud Demetrius? speak thou now.
Where are you, proud Demetrius? Speak now.
Here, villain; drawn and ready. Where art thou?
Here, you villain; I’m ready and armed. Where are you?
I will be with thee straight.
I’ll be with you in a moment.
Follow me, then, To plainer ground.
Follow me then, To a clearer place.
Lysander! speak again: Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled? Speak! In some bush? Where dost thou hide thy head?
Lysander! Speak again: You runaway, you coward, have you fled? Speak! Are you hiding in some bush? Where are you?
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: he is defiled That draws a sword on thee.
You coward, are you boasting to the stars, Telling the bushes you’re looking for a fight, But won’t show up? Come on, traitor; come, you child; I’ll whip you with a stick: anyone who draws a sword on you Is dishonored.
Yea, art thou there?
Oh, are you there?
Follow my voice: we’ll try no manhood here.
Follow my voice: we’re not testing your bravery here.
He goes before me and still dares me on: When I come where he calls, then he is gone. The villain is much lighter-heel’d than I: I follow’d fast, but faster he did fly; That fallen am I in dark uneven way, And here will rest me.
He goes ahead of me and keeps daring me to follow: When I get to where he called, he’s already gone. The jerk is much faster than I am: I followed closely, but he flew faster; Now I’ve fallen into this dark, uneven path, And here I’ll rest.
Come, thou gentle day! For if but once thou show me thy grey light, I’ll find Demetrius and revenge this spite.
Come, gentle morning! For if you just show me your gray light, I’ll find Demetrius and get back at him for this injustice.
Ho, ho, ho! Coward, why comest thou not?
Ha, ha, ha! Coward, why don’t you come here?
Abide me, if thou darest; for well I wot Thou runn’st before me, shifting every place, And darest not stand, nor look me in the face. Where art thou now?
Wait for me, if you dare; because I know well You’re running ahead of me, jumping around everywhere, And you won’t stand still or look me in the eye. Where are you now?
Come hither: I am here.
Come here: I’m right here.
Nay, then, thou mock’st me. 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. By day’s approach look to be visited.
No, now you’re mocking me. You’ll pay for this, If I ever see your face in the daylight: Now, go on. Weakness forces me To lie down on this cold ground. By morning, expect to be visited.
O weary night, O long and tedious night, Abate thy hour! Shine comforts from the east, 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.
Oh, what a long, exhausting night, Make the hours pass faster! Let the morning light shine, So I can return to Athens by daylight, Away from these people who hate my company: And sleep, that sometimes takes away sorrow, Take me away for a little while from myself.
Yet but three? Come one more; Two of both kinds make up four. Here she comes, curst and sad: Cupid is a knavish lad, Thus to make poor females mad.
Just three? Come on, one more; Two of each make four. Here she comes, angry and sad: Cupid is a mischievous boy, Who makes poor women mad like this.
Never so weary, never so in woe, Bedabbled with the dew and torn with briers, I can no further crawl, no further go; My legs can keep no pace with my desires. Here will I rest me till the break of day. Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray!
Never so tired, never so miserable, Covered in dew and scratched by thorns, I can’t crawl any further, I can’t go on; My legs can’t keep up with my wants. Here I’ll rest until dawn. May the heavens protect Lysander, if they plan a fight!
On the ground Sleep sound: I’ll apply To your eye, Gentle lover, remedy.
On the ground Sleep well: I’ll put Some drops In your eye, Gentle lover, to fix you.
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 shall be well.
When you wake, You’ll find True happiness In the look Of your old lover’s eye: And the old saying is true, That everyone should end up with what’s meant for them, When you wake, it will be clear: Jack will have Jill; Everything will be fine; The man will get his horse back, and all will be good.