A Midsummer Night's Dream

Hippolyta.

I wooed you with my sword

and won your love doing you injuries.

But I will wed you in another key.

With pomp, with triumph

and with reveling.

Theseus be blessed

For making up this peace

When earthly things made

Even atone together

Then there is mirth

In heavens

Theseus be blessed

For making up this peace

When earthly things made

Even atone together

Then there is mirth

In heaven

Theseus be blessed

For making up this peace

When earthly things made

Even atone together

Then there is mirth in heaven

In heaven

Trumpets and fifes

Trumpets and fifes

Make dance the sun

Make dance the sun

Trumpets and fifes

Trumpets and fifes

Make dance the sun

Make dance the sun

Trumpets and fifes

Trumpets and fifes

Make dance the sun

Make dance the sun

Trumpets and fifes

Trumpets and fifes

Make dance the sun

Make dance the sun

Theseus be blessed, be blessed

Theseus be blessed

Welcome, welcome, Theseus

Welcome, Theseus

Hail

Theseus, hail

Go, Philostrate.

Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments.

Awake the pert

and nimble spirit of mirth.

Turn melancholy forth to funerals.

The pale companion is not for our pomp.

Stand forth, Lysander.

With cunning did you steal

my daughter's heart.

Turned her obedience,

which is due to me,

to stubborn harshness.

I am, my lord,

beloved of beauteous Hermia.

But she is mine. I may dispose of her.

Which shall be either to Demetrius,

or to her death.

According to our law,

immediately provided in that case.

So will I die, my father.

Before I yield my maiden virtue

up unto his lordship,

whose unwished yoke

my soul consents not to give sovereignty.

Relent, sweet Hermia.

Lysander, yield your crazed title

to my certain right.

You have her father's love, Demetrius.

Let me have Hermia's.

- You marry him.

- Scornful Lysander.

True, he has my love.

And what is mine,

my love shall give to him.

And she is mine, and all my right of her,

I hereby grant unto Demetrius.

My fortune is, my lord, as fairly ranked,

if not with vantage, as Demetrius'.

Here is the scroll of every man's name

which is thought fit through all Athens.

To play...

In our interlude...

Shhh.

...before the duke and the duchess

on his wedding day at night.

Now, fair Hippolyta,

our nuptial hour draws on apace.

Four happy days bring in another moon:

But, oh, methinks how slow

this old moon wanes.

She lingers my desires.

Four days will quickly

steep themselves in night.

Four nights will quickly

dream away the time.

And then, the moon, like to a silver bow,

new-bent in heaven,

shall behold the night

of our solemnities.

Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke.

Thanks, good Egeus.

What's the news with you?

Full of vexation am I

and complain against my child,

my daughter, Hermia.

Stand forth, Demetrius.

My noble lord,

this man has my consent to marry her.

Stand forth, Lysander.

And, my gracious duke, this man

has bewitch'd the bosom of my child.

You, you, Lysander, you have

by moonlight at her window, sung

with feigning voice,

verses of feigning love.

Be it so.

She will not here before your grace,

consent to marry with Demetrius.

I beg the ancient privilege of Athens,

as she is mine, I may dispose of her.

For disobedience to her father's will,

either to die the death

or to give up forever

the society of men.

What say you, Hermia?

Be advised, fair maid.

Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.

So is Lysander.

In himself, he is.

But in this case, lacking your father's voice,

the other must be held the worthier.

I am, my lord, as nobly born as he,

as well possess'd.

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