A Midsummer Night’s Dream

These lovers are saying some strange things, Theseus.

Yes, strange—and totally made up too. I’ll never believe any of these old legends or fairy tales. Lovers and madmen hallucinate about things that sane people just can’t understand. Lunatics, lovers, and poets all are ruled by their overactive imaginations. some people think they see devils and monsters everywhere—and they’re lunatics. Lovers are just as crazy, and think a dark-skinned gypsy is the most gorgeous woman in the world. Poets are always looking around like they’re having a fit, confusing the mundane with the otherworldly, and describing things in their writing that simply don’t exist. All these people have such strong imaginations that, when they feel happy, they assume a god or some other supernatural being is bringing that happiness to them. Or if they’re afraid of something at night, they look at the shrubbery and imagine it’s a wild bear!

But the story that these lovers are telling, and the fact that they all saw and heard exactly the same things, make me think there’s more going on here than imaginary fantasies. Their story is bizarre and astounding, but it’s solid and consistent.

Here come the lovers, laughing happily.—I wish you joy, my friends! I hope the days ahead are full of joy for you.

We wish you even more joy, and hope joy comes to you in your royal walks, at your table, and in your royal bed!

Now, what kind of entertainment do we have to fill up the long three hours between dinner and bedtime? Where is our entertainment director? What performances have been prepared? Aren’t there any plays for us to enjoy while we wait in torture for bedtime to come? Let me see Philostrate.

Here I am, Theseus.

Tell us what entertainment you’ve prepared for the evening. Which plays, what music? How will we pass the time without some entertainment?

(giving THESEUS a piece of paper) Here’s a list of all of the acts that have been prepared. Choose which one you want to see first.

(reading) “The battle between Hercules and the Centaurs, to be sung by an Athenian eunuch, accompanied by a harp.” No, we won’t see that. I’ve already told that story to Hippolyta, while praising my cousin Hercules. What else? “The riot of the drunk Bacchanals who rip the singer Orpheus to shreds.” That’s an old show, and I saw it the last time I came back from conquering Thebes. “The nine Muses mourning the death of learning and scholarship.” That’s some sharp, critical satire, and it’s not appropriate for a wedding. “A tedious short drama about young Pyramus and his love Thisbe, a very sad and tragic comedy.” A sad comedy? Short but still tedious? That’s like hot ice and strange snow. How can this drama be so many contradictory things?

It’s a play about ten words long, which is the shortest play I’ve ever heard of. But in my opinion, it’s about ten words too long. That’s why it’s tedious. In the entire play, not one word is well-written, and not one of the actors is right for his part. It’s tragic because Pyramus kills himself. I have to admit that when I saw his suicide during rehearsal, I had tears in my eyes—but they were tears of laughter.

Who are the actors?

Rough workmen from Athens who never spent much time thinking. Now they’ve worn out their out-of-shape brains to put on this play for your wedding.

So let’s see it.

No, my noble lord. This play isn’t right for you. I’ve seen the whole thing, and it’s completely worthless—unless you think their bad acting and their misremembered lines—which they memorized so painfully—are funny.

I’ll watch this play. Nothing can really be bad when it’s created by simple people who try hard. Come on, bring them in. And sit down, ladies.

I don’t like seeing poor people overburdened or looking bad when they’re trying to do something good.

You won’t see anything like that, sweetheart.

He just said that they’re no good at acting.

Then we’re even kinder people for thanking them for something that they’re not good at. We’ll entertain ourselves by accepting their mistakes. When poor dutiful people can’t do certain things well, generous people can consider the effort they put into it rather than the effect that they produce. In my travels, great scholars have come up to me, meaning to greet me with well-rehearsed welcoming speeches, and I have seen them tremble and turn pale, and pause inappropriately in the middle of their sentences, and botch their well-rehearsed tones of voice because they’re so nervous, and then break off abruptly at the end, without actually welcoming me. Trust me, my sweet, I figured out that they were trying to welcome me even though they were silent, and that message was as clear from someone who was modest and nervously dutiful as it is from someone who is loud and audacious and eloquent. Therefore, love and tongue-tied simplicity can say the most even when they’re saying the least, in my opinion.

Your grace, the person who is going to deliver the prologue is ready.

Let him come forward.

If we happen to offend you, it’s because we want to. We don’t want you to think we came here to offend you, except that we want to offend you with our good intentions. Our plan to show off our little bit of talent will wind up getting us executed. Please keep in mind we’re only here out of spite. We don’t come here with the intention of making you happy. We’re absolutely not here to delight you. The actors are ready to come out and make you sorry. By watching their show, you’ll find out everything you’re likely to know.

This guy doesn’t pay much attention to punctuation.

He rode that prologue like a wild horse. He didn’t know how to stop it. The moral of this story is that it’s not enough to speak; you have to speak grammatically.

Yes, he performed his prologue like a child plays a recorder—he can make sounds, but they’re out of control.

His speech was like a tangled chain. It went on and on and was a total mess. Who’s next?

(delivered by QUINCE) Ladies and gentlemen, perhaps you are wondering what is going on. Well, keep wondering, until the truth makes everything clear. This man is Pyramus, if you want to know. This beautiful lady is definitely Thisbe. This man with the limestone and cement is portraying Wall, that horrible wall that kept these lovers apart. They are content to whisper through Wall’s little hole, the poor souls, and no one should be surprised. This man, with his lantern, dog, and thornbush, portrays Moonshine, because, if you want to know, the lovers were not ashamed to meet each other by moonshine at Ninus’ tomb in order to carry on their courtship. This grisly beast, which is called “Lion,” scared away, or rather frightened, the faithful Thisbe when she arrived at the meeting place at night. As she ran away from him, she dropped her cloak, which the horrible Lion stained with his bloody mouth. Soon Pyramus comes along, a tall and handsome young man, and finds his faithful Thisbe’s cloak to be dead. At this point, he takes his sword, his bloody blameful blade, and bravely breaks open his boiling bloody breast. And Thisbe, hiding in the shade of the mulberry bushes, took his dagger and killed herself. For the rest of the story, let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and the two lovers talk more about it, since they’re standing here.

I wonder if the lion’s going to talk.

It wouldn’t surprise me, my lord. If these asses can speak, a lion should be able to.

(played by SNOUT) At this point I, Snout, play a wall. But not just any wall. I want you to understand that I’m pretending to be a kind of wall that has a little hole in it. The lovers Pyramus and Thisbe often whispered very secretly through that hole. This clay, this cement, and this stone that I’m carrying around show that I’m that wall. It’s the truth. And this is the crack, right side and left side (points with two fingers), through which the frightened lovers will be whispering.

Can you imagine cement and stone talking better?

It’s the smartest partition I’ve ever heard speak, my lord.

Pyramus is coming up to the wall. Be quiet!

(played by BOTTOM) Oh, grim-looking night! Oh, night that is so black in color! Oh night, which is always there when it is not day! Oh night! Oh night! So sad, sad, sad, I’m afraid my Thisbe has forgotten her promise!—And you, oh Wall, oh sweet, oh lovely Wall, you stand between her father’s property and mine, you Wall, oh Wall, oh sweet and lovely Wall. Show me your hole to stick my eye up against!

Thank you, you’re such a polite wall. God bless you for doing this. But what’s this I see? I don’t see any Thisbe. Oh wicked wall, through which I don’t see any happiness! Damn your stones for disappointing me like this!

Since the wall is conscious, it should curse back at him.

(out of character) No, actually, sir, he shouldn’t say anything. It’s not his turn, it’s Thisbe’s. “Disappointing me like this” is Thisbe’s cue. She’s supposed to enter now, and I’ll see her through the wall. You’ll see, it’ll happen exactly like I say. Here she comes.

(played by FLUTE) Oh wall, you’ve often heard me moaning because you keep me separated from my handsome Pyramus! My cherry lips have often kissed your bricks, which are stuck together with cement.

I see a voice! I’ll go to the hole to see if I can hear my Thisbe’s face. Thisbe?

You are my love, my love, I think.

I’m your love, no matter what you think. And I’m still faithful to you, just like the famous Limander.

And I’ll be as faithful to you as Helen of Troy, until the day I die.

Not even Shafalus was as faithful to his lover Procrus as I am to you.

Me too, I’m as faithful as Shafalus to Procrus.

Oh, kiss me through the hole in this nasty wall.

But I’m only kissing the wall’s hole, not your lips at all.

Will you meet me right away at Ninny’s grave?

Neither death nor life will stop me from coming.

I, Wall, have done my part. Now that I’m done, Wall can go away.

The lovers should’ve waited around a little longer—the wall between them is down now.

What can you do? That’s what happens with talking walls.

This is the silliest thing I’ve ever seen.

The best plays are still only illusions, and the worst are just as good, if you just use your imagination to fill them in.

In that case it’s your imagination that’s interesting, not the play.

If we imagine these guys as they imagine themselves, then they’re first-class actors. Look, here come two noble animals, a man and a lion.

(played by SNUG) You, ladies, whose gentle hearts make you afraid of the smallest monstrous mouse that crawls around on the floor, might quake and tremble now when the wild lion roars in his most violent rage. You should know that I, Snug the carpenter, am not a fierce lion or a lioness, because if I were a lion and I showed up here to cause trouble, I’d be taking my life in my hands.

Ah, it’s a sensitive animal, with a good conscience.

He’s the best actor I’ve ever seen play a lion.

He’s as brave as a fox.

True. And as wise as a goose.

Oh, that’s not true, my lord. He’s not brave enough to be wise.

He’s not wise enough to be brave. Anyway, he is what he is. Let’s listen to the moon.

This lantern represents the horned moon—

He should have worn the horns on his head.

He’s not a crescent moon, so his horns must be invisible inside the circle.

This lantern represents the moon. I myself am playing the man in the moon—

Well then, that’s the biggest mistake of all. The man should be inside the lantern. How else is he the “man in the moon”?

He can’t go in there because of the candle. It’s too hot.

I’m tired of this moon. I wish he’d wax or wane off the stage.

It seems like he’s waning, but out of politeness we’ll have to wait and see.

Go ahead, Moon.

All I wanted to tell you is that the lantern is the moon, I’m the man in the moon, this thornbush is my thornbush, and this dog is my dog.

Well, all of these should be in the lantern, because they’re all in the moon. But be quiet, here comes Thisbe.

This is old Ninny’s tomb. But where is my love?

(roaring) Hey!

Good roaring, Lion!

Good running, Thisbe!

Good shining, Moon!—Really, the Moon shines very well.

That’s good, Lion! Shake it around like a cat with a mouse.

And then Pyramus showed up.

So the lion disappeared.

Sweet Moon, I thank you for your sunny beams. I thank you, Moon, for shining now so bright, because by the light of your gracious, golden, glittering gleams, I hope to be able to see my faithful Thisbe.—But wait. Oh no! But, look, poor me, what a terrible tragedy is here! Eyes, do you see? How can it be? Oh, dainty duck! Oh, dear! Your cloak so good, what, stained with blood? Come, terrible Furies, and punish whoever has hurt her! Oh, Fate, come and cut the thread of my life. Conquer, crush, conclude, and kill!

You could get sad watching this actor’s passionate lament—if one of your good friends happened to die right at the same time.

Damned if I don’t feel sorry for him.

Oh, Mother Nature, why did you create lions? A mean and awful lion has deflowered my darling, who is—no, no, who was the most beautiful lady who ever lived, or loved, or liked, or looked. Come on, tears, pour over me! Come on out, sword, and wound Pyramus in the chest—yes, right here on the left side where his heart is. (PYRAMUS stabs himself) And so I’m dying. Here I go, here I go. Okay, now I’m dead. My soul has fled to the sky. My tongue shall see no more, It’s time for the moon to go away.

Now die, die, die, die, die. (PYRAMUS dies)

Is someone throwing dice? I guess it’s “die,” not dice, since there’s only one of him.

Actually he’s a die with no dots, since he’s nothing—he’s dead.

With a doctor’s help he might recover and become an ass again.

If Moonshine’s gone before Thisbe comes back, how will she be able to see in the dark to find her lover dead?

She’ll see him by starlight. Here she comes. Her moaning and groaning will end the play.

I don’t think a ridiculous Pyramus like that one deserves much moaning. I hope she keeps it short.

I can’t decide whether Pyramus or Thisbe is better. God help us if he’s a better man. But God help us if she’s a better woman.

Look, she’s spotted him with those sweet eyes of hers.

And now she’ll start moaning, of course—

Are you asleep, my love? What, are you dead, my dove? Oh, Pyramus, get up! Speak, speak. Can’t you talk? Dead, dead? The dirt of a grave must cover your sweet eyes! Your lily-white lips, your cherry-red nose, and your buttercup-yellow cheeks are gone, gone forever. Lovers, moan and weep. His eyes were as green as leeks. Oh, Fate, come, come to me, with hands as pale as milk. Soak your hands in blood and gore, since you have cut the thread of his life with scissors. Tongue, do not speak. Come, trusty sword. Come, blade, drench my breast with blood. (she stabs herself) Goodbye, friends! This is how Thisbe comes to an end. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. (THISBE dies)

Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead.

Yes, and Wall too.

(out of character) No, I assure you. The wall that kept their fathers apart has been taken down. Would you like to see the epilogue or hear a country dance between two of us?

No epilogue, please. Your play doesn’t need to be excused afterward with an epilogue. Never apologize—when the actors are all dead, no one can be blamed. As a matter of fact, if the playwright had played Pyramus and hanged himself with Thisbe’s belt, it would have been a very good tragedy. It’s a good tragedy, very well done. But come on, let’s see you do your dance. Forget your epilogue.

The clock has chimed midnight. Lovers, it’s time to go to bed. It’s almost fairy time. I’m afraid we’re going to oversleep in the morning as late as we’ve stayed up tonight.This blatantly stupid play helped us kill the time until bed. Dear friends, let’s go to bed. We’ll continue this celebration for two weeks, with nightly parties and new fun.

Now the hungry lion roars and the wolf howls at the moon. The farmer snores, exhausted from his work. The charred logs glow in the fireplace, and the owl’s hoot makes the sick man think about his own death. Now is the time of night when graves open wide and release spirits to glide over the graveyard paths. And we fairies, who run away from the sun just like the goddess of the night, following darkness like a dream, are getting antsy. But I’m here to make sure that not even a mouse disturbs this blessed house. I’ve been sent to clean house a bit before the fairies come.

Let the dying fire shine a glimmering light throughout the house. I want every elf and fairy to hop lightly, like a bird on a twig, and to sing and dance this song along with me.

First rehearse your song from memory, and make sure each note is pretty. We’ll all join hands and sing, and bless this place with our fairy grace.

(singing)

Now, until morning, each fairy should walk through this house. Titania and I will go to the royal marriage bed to bless it, and the children conceived in that bed will always have good luck. Each of the three couples will always be faithful and in love, and their children will have no deformities.

They won’t have moles, or harelips, or scars, or abnormal markings, or anything else that might alarm someone if their baby was born with it. Use this blessed dew from the fields to bless each room in the palace with sweet peace. And the blessed owner will always be safe. Run along. Don’t stay long. Meet me at dawn.

If we actors have offended you, just think of it this way and everything will be all right—you were asleep when you saw these visions, and this silly and pathetic story was no more real than a dream. Ladies and gentlemen, don’t get upset with me. If you forgive us, we’ll make everything all right. I’m an honest Puck, and I swear that if we’re lucky enough not to get hissed at, we’ll make it up to you soon. If not, then I’m a liar. So good night to everyone. Give me some applause, if we’re friends, and Robin will make everything up to you.