Original
Modern English
lying asleep.
lying asleep.
Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed, While I thy amiable cheeks do coy, And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head, And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.
Come, sit down on this flowery bed, While I gently stroke your lovely cheeks, And stick musk-roses in your smooth, shiny hair, And kiss your big, pretty ears, my sweet joy.
Where’s Peaseblossom?
Where’s Peaseblossom?
Ready.
Here.
Scratch my head Peaseblossom. Where’s Mounsieur Cobweb?
Scratch my head, Peaseblossom. Where’s Monsieur Cobweb?
Ready.
Here.
Mounsieur Cobweb, good mounsieur, get you your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and, good mounsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, mounsieur; and, good mounsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loath to have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior. Where’s Mounsieur Mustardseed?
Monsieur Cobweb, good sir, take your tools in hand, and kill me a red-bottomed bee on top of a thistle; and, please, bring me the honey-bag. Don’t rush too much with this, sir; and, please, be careful not to break the honey-bag; I’d hate to see you spill it all over yourself, sir. Where’s Monsieur Mustardseed?
Ready.
Here.
Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good mounsieur.
Give me your fist, Monsieur Mustardseed. Please, forget the formalities, good sir.
What’s your Will?
What do you want?
Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber’s, monsieur; for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face; and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.
Nothing, good sir, just help Monsieur Cobweb with the scratching. I need to go to the barber’s, sir; because I think I’m terribly hairy on my face; and I am such a sensitive donkey, if my hair tickles me, I have to scratch.
What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love?
What, do you want to hear some music, my sweet love?
I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let’s have the tongs and the bones.
I have a pretty good ear for music. Let’s hear the tongs and the bones.
Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat.
Or tell me, sweet love, what you’d like to eat.
Truly, a peck of provender: I could munch your good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.
Honestly, a bunch of food: I could eat your dry oats. I feel like I really want a bundle of hay: good hay, sweet hay, has no equal.
I have a venturous fairy that shall seek The squirrel’s hoard, and fetch thee new nuts.
I have a brave fairy who will go To the squirrel’s stash, and bring you new nuts.
I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me: I have an exposition of sleep come upon me.
I’d rather have a handful or two of dried peas. But, please, don’t let any of your people disturb me: I’m getting sleepy.
Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. Fairies, begone, and be all ways away.
Sleep, and I’ll wrap you in my arms. Fairies, go away, and stay far away.
So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle Gently entwist; the female ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee!
So the woodbine (honeysuckle) gently winds Like the ivy that curls around the elm’s branches. Oh, how I love you! how I adore you!
[Advancing] Welcome, good Robin. See’st thou this sweet sight? Her dotage now I do begin to pity: For, meeting her of late behind the wood, Seeking sweet favours from this hateful fool, I did upbraid her and fall out with her; For she his hairy temples then had rounded With a coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers; And that same dew, which sometime on the buds Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls, Stood now within the pretty flowerets’ eyes Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail. When I had at my pleasure taunted her And she in mild terms begg’d my patience, I then did ask of her her changeling child; Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent To bear him to my bower in fairy land. And now I have the boy, I will undo This hateful imperfection of her eyes: And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp From off the head of this Athenian swain; That, he awaking when the other do, May all to Athens back again repair And think no more of this night’s accidents But as the fierce vexation of a dream. But first I will release the fairy queen. Be as thou wast wont to be; See as thou wast wont to see: Dian’s bud o’er Cupid’s flower Hath such force and blessed power. Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen.
[Advancing] Welcome, good Robin. Do you see this beautiful sight? Now I start to pity her obsession: For, when I saw her recently behind the wood, Seeking affection from this awful fool, I scolded her and argued with her; She had just crowned his hairy head With a crown of fresh and fragrant flowers; And the same dew that once swelled on the buds Now looked like tears in the little flowers’ eyes, Tears that seemed to mourn their own disgrace. After I had teased her as I pleased And she gently begged for my patience, I then asked for her changeling child; She gave it to me immediately, and her fairy went To take him to my bower in fairyland. And now that I have the boy, I will undo This horrible flaw in her eyes: And, gentle Puck, take this transformed head Off the head of this Athenian youth; So that, when he wakes up with the others, He will return to Athens And forget about this night’s events As if they were just a bad dream. But first I will free the fairy queen. Be as you used to be; See as you used to see: The bud of Diana’s flower Has such power and blessed force. Now, my Titania; wake up, my sweet queen.
My Oberon! what visions have I seen! Methought I was enamour’d of an ass.
My Oberon! What strange visions have I had! I thought I was in love with an ass.
There lies your love.
There lies your love.
How came these things to pass? O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now!
How did all this happen? Oh, how I hate the sight of his face now!
Silence awhile. Robin, take off this head. Titania, music call; and strike more dead Than common sleep of all these five the sense.
Be quiet for a moment. Robin, take off this head. Titania, call the music; and make them sleep More deeply than the deepest common sleep.
Music, ho! music, such as charmeth sleep!
Music, ho! Music, the kind that charms sleep!
Now, when thou wakest, with thine own fool’s eyes peep.
Now, when you wake, look through your fool’s eyes.
Sound, music! Come, my queen, take hands with me, And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be. Now thou and I are new in amity, And will to-morrow midnight solemnly Dance in Duke Theseus’ house triumphantly, And bless it to all fair prosperity: There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.
Play some music! Come, my queen, take my hand, And shake the ground where these sleepers lie. Now you and I are friends again, And tomorrow night at midnight we’ll Dance at Duke Theseus’ house in celebration, And wish it all the best for a happy future: There, the faithful lovers will be Married, with Theseus, all in joy.
Fairy king, attend, and mark: I do hear the morning lark.
Fairy king, listen, and pay attention: I hear the morning lark.
Then, my queen, in silence sad, Trip we after the night’s shade: We the globe can compass soon, Swifter than the wandering moon.
Then, my queen, in quiet sadness, Let’s follow the night’s shadows: We can quickly circle the world, Faster than the wandering moon.
Come, my lord, and in our flight Tell me how it came this night That I sleeping here was found With these mortals on the ground.
Come, my lord, and as we fly Tell me how it happened tonight That I was found sleeping here With these mortals on the ground.
Go, one of you, find out the forester; For now our observation is perform’d; And since we have the vaward of the day, My love shall hear the music of my hounds. Uncouple in the western valley; let them go: Dispatch, I say, and find the forester.
Go, one of you, find the forester; Our observation is done; And since we’re ahead of the day, My love shall hear the music of my hounds. Let them loose in the western valley; let them go: Hurry, I say, and find the forester.
We will, fair queen, up to the mountain’s top, And mark the musical confusion Of hounds and echo in conjunction.
We will, fair queen, go up to the mountaintop, And listen to the musical chaos Of the hounds and the echo together.
I was with Hercules and Cadmus once, When in a wood of Crete they bay’d the bear With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear Such gallant chiding: for, besides the groves, The skies, the fountains, every region near Seem’d all one mutual cry: I never heard So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.
I was with Hercules and Cadmus once, When they hunted the bear in a wood in Crete With hounds from Sparta: I never heard Such a great noise: besides the woods, The skies, the fountains, every place nearby All seemed to be making the same sound: I’ve never heard Such a musical mix-up, such sweet thunder.
My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flew’d, so sanded, and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew; Crook-knee’d, and dew-lapp’d like Thessalian bulls; Slow in pursuit, but match’d in mouth like bells, Each under each. A cry more tuneable Was never holla’d to, nor cheer’d with horn, In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly: Judge when you hear. But, soft! what nymphs are these?
My hounds are from the Spartan breed, So trained, so strong, with ears that drag The morning dew; Bow-legged and dew-covered like Thessalian bulls; Slow in chasing, but their bark matches perfectly Like bells, each one echoing the next. A cry more beautiful Was never heard, nor cheered with horn, In Crete, in Sparta, or in Thessaly: You’ll see when you hear. But wait! What nymphs are these?
My lord, this is my daughter here asleep; And this, Lysander; this Demetrius is; This Helena, old Nedar’s Helena: I wonder of their being here together.
My lord, this is my daughter asleep here; And this is Lysander; this is Demetrius; This is Helena, old Nedar’s daughter: I wonder why they’re all here together.
No doubt they rose up early to observe The rite of May, and hearing our intent, Came here in grace our solemnity. But speak, Egeus; is not this the day That Hermia should give answer of her choice?
No doubt they got up early to celebrate The May Day ritual, and hearing of our plan, Came here to join in our ceremony. But tell me, Egeus; isn’t this the day That Hermia should answer about her choice?
It is, my lord.
It is, my lord.
Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns.
Go, tell the huntsmen to wake them with their horns.
Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past: Begin these wood-birds but to couple now?
Good morning, friends. Saint Valentine’s Day has passed: Are these creatures just now starting to pair up?
Pardon, my lord.
Sorry, my lord.
I pray you all, stand up. I know you two are rival enemies: How comes this gentle concord in the world, That hatred is so far from jealousy, To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity?
Please, everyone, stand up. I know you two are rivals: How did this peaceful harmony come about, That hatred is so far from jealousy, To sleep in hatred and fear no conflict?
My lord, I shall reply amazedly, Half sleep, half waking: but as yet, I swear, I cannot truly say how I came here; But, as I think,--for truly would I speak, And now do I bethink me, so it is,-- I came with Hermia hither: our intent Was to be gone from Athens, where we might, Without the peril of the Athenian law.
My lord, I will answer, but I’m still half-asleep, Only half awake: but as of now, I swear, I can’t truly say how I got here; But, as I think about it, and I swear it’s true, I came here with Hermia: we planned To leave Athens, where we could, Without the danger of the Athenian laws.
Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough: I beg the law, the law, upon his head. They would have stolen away; they would, Demetrius, Thereby to have defeated you and me, You of your wife and me of my consent, Of my consent that she should be your wife.
Enough, enough, my lord; that’s enough: I ask for the law, the law, to be brought down on him. They tried to run away; they did, Demetrius, To ruin both you and me, You of your wife and me of my consent, The consent I gave for her to be your wife.
My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth, Of this their purpose hither to this wood; And I in fury hither follow’d them, Fair Helena in fancy following me. But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,-- But by some power it is,--my love to Hermia, Melted as the snow, seems to me now As the remembrance of an idle gaud Which in my childhood I did dote upon; And all the faith, the virtue of my heart, The object and the pleasure of mine eye, Is only Helena. To her, my lord, Was I betroth’d ere I saw Hermia: But, like in sickness, did I loathe this food; But, as in health, come to my natural taste, Now I do wish it, love it, long for it, And will for evermore be true to it.
My lord, fair Helena told me about their secret plan, About their intention to come to this wood; And I, in a rage, followed them here, With Helena in love following me. But, my good lord, I don’t know by what magic,— But some magic, for sure,—my love for Hermia, Melted away like snow, and now it seems Like a childish fancy I once had; And all the faith, the goodness in my heart, The object and the joy of my eyes, Is only Helena. To her, my lord, Was I promised before I even saw Hermia: But just like when sick, I hated that food; Now, in health, I crave it, I love it, I long for it, And I will forever be true to it.
Fair lovers, you are fortunately met: Of this discourse we more will hear anon. Egeus, I will overbear your will; For in the temple by and by with us These couples shall eternally be knit: And, for the morning now is something worn, Our purposed hunting shall be set aside. Away with us to Athens; three and three, We’ll hold a feast in great solemnity. Come, Hippolyta.
Fair lovers, you’ve been very lucky: We’ll hear more about this story soon. Egeus, I will override your will; For in the temple shortly, all of us Will see these couples joined together forever: And, since the morning is almost gone, We’ll put our hunting plans aside. Let’s head back to Athens; three by three, We’ll celebrate with a grand feast. Come, Hippolyta.
These things seem small and undistinguishable,
These things feel small and confusing,
Methinks I see these things with parted eye, When every thing seems double.
I feel like I’m seeing things with blurry eyes, When everything seems doubled.
So methinks: And I have found Demetrius like a jewel, Mine own, and not mine own.
I feel the same: And I’ve found Demetrius like a treasure, Mine, but also not mine.
Are you sure That we are awake? It seems to me That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think The duke was here, and bid us follow him?
Are you sure That we’re awake? It feels to me Like we’re still sleeping, like we’re dreaming. Don’t you think The duke was here, and told us to follow him?
Yea; and my father.
Yes; and my father.
And Hippolyta.
And Hippolyta.
And he did bid us follow to the temple.
And he told us to follow him to the temple.
Why, then, we are awake: let’s follow him And by the way let us recount our dreams.
Well, then, we’re awake: let’s follow him And on the way, let’s talk about our dreams.
[Awaking] When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer: my next is, ’Most fair Pyramus.’ Heigh-ho! Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God’s my life, stolen hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was--there is no man can tell what. Methought I was,--and methought I had,--but man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man’s hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom’s Dream, because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the duke: peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death.
[Waking up] When it’s my turn, call me, and I’ll answer: my next line is, "Most fair Pyramus." Oh! Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! Oh my God, I’ve been stolen away, and left asleep! I had the most amazing vision. I had a dream, and no one could ever explain what it was: man is a fool if he tries to make sense of this dream. I thought I was--no one can say what. I thought I was--and I thought I had--but man is an idiot if he tries to explain what I thought I had. The human eye hasn’t seen it, the ear hasn’t heard it, the hand can’t touch it, the tongue can’t describe it, and the heart can’t tell you what my dream was. I’ll get Peter Quince to write a ballad about this dream: it’ll be called Bottom’s Dream, because it has no bottom; and I’ll sing it at the end of a play, before the duke: maybe to make it nicer, I’ll sing it at her funeral.