A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act 4, Scene 1

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 stroke your lovely cheeks, and stick musk-roses in your smooth, glossy head, and kiss your beautiful big ears, my gentle delight.

Where’s Peaseblossom?

Where's Peaseblossom?

Ready.

Here.

Scratch my head, Peaseblossom. Where’s Monsieur Cobweb?

Scratch my head, Peaseblossom. Where's Monsieur Cobweb?

Ready.

Here.

Monsieur Cobweb; good monsieur, get you your weapons in your hand and kill me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and, good monsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, monsieur; and, good monsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loath to have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior. Where’s Monsieur Mustardseed?

Monsieur Cobweb, good sir, take your weapons in your hand and kill me a red-hipped bumblebee on top of a thistle; and, good sir, bring me the honey-bag. Don't strain yourself too much in the business, sir; and, good sir, be careful the honey-bag doesn't break. I'd hate to see you flooded with a honey-bag, sir. Where's Monsieur Mustardseed?

Ready.

Here.

Give me your neaf, Monsieur Mustardseed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good monsieur.

Give me your fist, Monsieur Mustardseed. Please, stop bowing, good sir.

What’s your will?

What do you want?

Nothing, good monsieur, 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, except to help Cavalier Cobweb scratch. I must go to the barber's, sir, because I think I'm astonishingly hairy about the face; and I'm such a sensitive donkey that if my hair so much as tickles me, I have to scratch.

What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love?

What, would you like to hear some music, my sweet love?

I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let us have the tongs and the bones.

I have a fairly good ear for music. Let's have 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 bucketful of animal feed. I could chew some of your good dry oats. I think I have a great longing for 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 bold fairy who will go hunt out the squirrel's store and fetch you fresh 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; a settling of sleep has come over me.

Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. Fairies, be gone, and be all ways 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!

Sleep, then, and I'll wrap you in my arms. Fairies, go away, and scatter in every direction. This is how the bindweed gently twines around the sweet honeysuckle, and how the clinging ivy circles the rough, bark-covered fingers of the elm. Oh, how I love you! How I adore you!

Welcome, good Robin. Seest thou this sweet sight? Her dotage now I do begin to pity. For, meeting her of late behind the wood, Seeking sweet favours for this hateful fool, I did upbraid her and fall out with her: For she his hairy temples then had rounded With 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 flouriets’ 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 fairyland. And now I have the boy, I will undo This hateful imperfection of her eyes. And, gentle Puck, take this transformèd 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.

Welcome, good Robin. Do you see this charming sight? I'm beginning to pity her infatuation now. Because, when I met her a while ago behind the wood, gathering sweet presents for this loathsome fool, I scolded her and quarrelled with her. She had circled his hairy temples with a crown of fresh, fragrant flowers, and that same dew which used to swell on the buds like round eastern pearls now stood in the eyes of the pretty little flowers, like tears weeping over their own humiliation. When I had mocked her as much as I liked, and she had gently begged me to be patient, I then asked her for her stolen child, which she gave me straight away, and she sent her fairy to carry him to my shelter in fairyland. And now that I have the boy, I will undo this hateful fault in her eyes. And, gentle Puck, take this transformed head off this Athenian young man's shoulders, so that when he wakes with the others, he may all go back to Athens together, and think of tonight's events as nothing more than the wild distress of a dream. But first I'll release the Fairy Queen.

Be as thou wast wont to be; See as thou was 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.

Be as you used to be; see as you used to see. Dian's bud has such strength and blessed power over Cupid's flower. 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 visions I've seen! I thought I was in love with a donkey.

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 my eyes 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 for music; and deaden the senses of all these five more completely than ordinary sleep does.

Music, ho, music, such as charmeth sleep.

Music, there, music—the kind that charms people to sleep.

Now when thou wak’st, with thine own fool’s eyes peep.

Now, when you wake, look out through your own fool's eyes.

Sound, music.

Play, 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 tomorrow 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.

Come, my queen, take my hands, and let's rock the ground these sleepers are lying on. Now you and I are freshly at peace with each other, and tomorrow at midnight we will ceremonially dance in triumph in Duke Theseus' house, and bless it with every good fortune. There the pairs of faithful lovers will be married, along with Theseus, all in celebration.

Fairy king, attend and mark. I do hear the morning lark.

Fairy king, listen and take note. I can hear the morning lark.

Then, my queen, in silence sad, Trip we after night’s shade. We the globe can compass soon, Swifter than the wand’ring moon.

Then, my queen, in solemn silence, let's travel lightly after night's shadow. We can circle the globe quickly, 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 on the ground with these mortals.

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.

One of you, go and find the forester, because our May-morning ceremony is over now; and since we have the earliest part of the day ahead of us, my love shall hear the music of my hounds. Unleash them 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 go up to the mountain top, lovely queen, and listen to the musical confusion 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 once with Hercules and Cadmus when they cornered the bear in a wood in Crete with Spartan hounds. I never heard such splendid baying; for besides the groves, the skies, the springs, every place nearby seemed to be one single shared cry. I never heard such musical discord, 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 dewlap’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 bred from the Spartan breed—the same hanging lips, the same sandy colour—and their heads hang with ears that sweep away the morning dew. They're bow-legged and have loose folds of skin at the throat like bulls of Thessaly; slow in the chase, but their voices matched like a peal of bells, each pitched under the next. A pack more tuneful was never shouted to, or urged on with a horn, in Crete, in Sparta, or in Thessaly. Judge for yourself when you hear them.—But wait, who are these young women?

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 asleep here is my daughter, and this is Lysander; this is Demetrius; this is Helena, old Nedar's Helena. I'm amazed they're here together.

No doubt they rose up early to observe The rite of May; and, hearing our intent, Came here in grace of 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 rites of May, and, hearing about our plan, came here to honour our ceremony. But tell me, Egeus: isn't this the day Hermia was to give her 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 is over. Are these woodland birds only pairing up now?

Pardon, my lord.

Forgive us, 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, all of you, stand up. I know you two are rivals and enemies. How has this gentle harmony come into the world, so that hatred is so free of suspicion that it can sleep beside its enemy and fear no hostility?

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 I do bethink me, so it is: I came with Hermia hither. Our intent Was to be gone from Athens, where we might be Without the peril of the Athenian law.

My lord, I'll answer in confusion, half asleep, half awake; but so far, I swear, I truly can't say how I came to be here. But as I think—since I want to speak honestly—and now that I recall it, this is how it is: I came here with Hermia. Our plan was to get away from Athens, to somewhere we could be beyond the danger of the Athenian law.

Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough. I beg the law, the law upon his head. They would have stol’n 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; you've heard enough. I ask for the law, the law to come down on his head. They meant to run away, they did, Demetrius, and by doing so cheat you and me—you of your wife, and me of my consent, my consent that she should 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 a 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, lovely Helen told me about their escape, about their plan to come here to this wood; and I followed them here in a rage, with lovely Helena following me out of love. But, my good lord, I don't know by what power—though it is by some power—my love for Hermia has melted like snow, and seems to me now like the memory of some worthless trinket I was crazy about in my childhood. And all the loyalty, all the goodness of my heart, the object and the delight of my eye, is only Helena. I was engaged to her, my lord, before I ever saw Hermia. But like a sick man I hated this food; now, as in health, I've come back to my natural taste, and I want it, love it, long for it, and will be true to it for ever.

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 purpos’d 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, this is a lucky meeting. We'll hear more of this story shortly. Egeus, I will override your wishes, because in the temple, very soon, along with us, these couples shall be joined for ever. And, since the morning is now somewhat used up, the hunt we planned will be called off. Come away with us to Athens. Three couples—we'll hold a great ceremonial feast. Come, Hippolyta.

These things seem small and undistinguishable, Like far-off mountains turnèd into clouds.

These things seem tiny and blurred, like distant mountains turned into clouds.

Methinks I see these things with parted eye, When everything seems double.

I feel as if I'm seeing these things with unfocused eyes, when everything looks double.

So methinks. And I have found Demetrius like a jewel, Mine own, and not mine own.

So do I. And I've found Demetrius like a jewel—mine, and yet 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 we're awake? It seems to me that we're still asleep and dreaming. Don't you think the Duke was here and told us to follow him?

Yea, and my father.

Yes, and my father too.

And Hippolyta.

And Hippolyta.

And he did bid us follow to the temple.

And he did tell 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 are awake. Let's follow him, and on the way let's tell each other our dreams.

[Waking.] 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! Stol’n 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.] When my cue comes, call me, and I'll answer. My next line is 'Most fair Pyramus.' Hey there! Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God bless my life! They've sneaked off and left me asleep! I've had a most extraordinary vision. I've had a dream, beyond any man's wit to say what dream it was. A man is nothing but a donkey if he tries to explain this dream. I thought I was—no man can tell what. I thought I was, and I thought I had—but a man is only a fool in motley if he dares to say what I thought I had. No man's eye has heard, no man's ear has seen, no man's hand is able to taste, nor his tongue to imagine, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I'll get Peter Quince to write a ballad about this dream; it shall be called 'Bottom's Dream', because it has no bottom to it. And I'll sing it at the end of a play, in front of the Duke. Maybe, to make it go down better, I'll sing it at her death.