A Midsummer Night's Dream Page #4

Where are Lysander and fair Hermia?

The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me.

You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant.

Give up your power to draw,

and I shall have no power

to follow you.

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'll run from you

and hide me in the brakes.

And leave you to the mercy

of wild beasts.

The wildest has not such a heart as you.

If you follow me, you may be sure

that I shall do you mischief in the wood.

Ay, in the temple, in the town,

in the field, you do me mischief.

We cannot fight for love, as men may do.

We should be wooed

and were not made to woo.

You're...

I'll follow you...

and make a heaven of hell.

To die upon the hand I love so well.

Fare thee well, nymph.

Before he leaves this grove,

thou shalt fly him,

and he shall seek thy love.

Oh, Peter Quince.

- Peter Quince.

- What say you, bully Bottom?

There are things in this, uh, comedy

of Pyramus and Thisbe

that will never please.

First, Pyramus must draw a sword

to kill himself.

- And?

- And which the ladies cannot abide.

How answer you that?

By heavens, a grave mistake.

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 then, for the more better assurance,

tell them that I, Pyramus,

am not Pyramus.

Huh?

But Bottom the weaver.

This will put them out of fear.

Well, we will have such a prologue.

Then, there's another thing.

- We must have a wall in the great chamber.

- A wall?

For Pyramus and Thisbe, says the story,

did talk through the chink of a wall.

But you can never bring in a wall.

What say you, Bottom?

Some man or other must present wall.

Let him have some plaster or some loam,

or rough-cast about him to signify wall.

And let him hold his fingers thus.

And through this cranny

shall Pyramus and Thisbe whisper.

If that may be, then all is well.

Welcome, wanderer.

Hast thou the flower there?

- Here it is!

- I pray thee, give it me.

I know a bank

Where the wild thyme blows

Where oxlips

And the nodding violet grows

Quite over-canopied

With luscious woodbine

With sweet musk-roses

And with eglantine

There sleeps Titania

Sometime of the night

Lull'd in these flowers

With dances and delight

And with the juice of this

I'll streak her eyes

And make her full of hateful fantasies

The next thing then

She waking looks upon

She shall pursue it

With the soul of love

And before I take this charm off

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