’Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of.
It's strange, Theseus, what these lovers are telling us.
The things these lovers are saying are really strange.
their story's weird
More strange than true. I never may believe
These antique fables, nor these fairy toys.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet
Are of imagination all compact:
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold;
That is the madman: the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen’s beauty in a brow of Egypt:
The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination,
That if it would but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy.
Or in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush supposed a bear?
Stranger than believable. I could never accept these old fables or fairy-tale nonsense. Lovers and crazy people have such intensely active minds and wild imaginations that they perceive far more than rational thinking could ever comprehend. Crazy people, lovers, and poets are all made entirely of imagination. One of them sees more demons than the entire depths of hell can hold. A lover, equally frenzied, looks at someone's face and sees the most beautiful woman ever. The poet's eye, spinning in creative frenzy, looks from sky to earth and back again. When imagination creates the forms of things unknown, the poet's pen gives them shape, turning empty air into something with a home and a name. This is what imagination does: if it imagines some happiness, it creates whoever brings that happiness. Or at night, if you're afraid, how easily does a bush seem like a bear?
Stranger than believable - honestly, I don't buy these old fairy stories at all. Lovers and crazy people? Their brains are absolutely on fire, imagining things that normal rational people couldn't even think of. Actually, lovers, madmen, and poets all live in fantasy land - they're pure imagination. One of them sees more demons than hell itself. A lover, just as insane, looks at someone and sees the world's most beautiful woman. A poet in the grip of creativity looks back and forth between heaven and earth like a madman. Imagination shapes things that don't even exist, the poet writes them down, and suddenly nothing becomes something real with a name and a place. If your imagination wants happiness, it invents the person to make it happen. Same thing at night when you're scared - suddenly every bush looks like a bear.
lovers madmen & poets all living in fantasy imagination creates things that aren't real poet writes em down & gives em names in the dark a bush looks like a bear when u're scared
But all the story of the night told over,
And all their minds transfigur’d so together,
More witnesseth than fancy’s images,
And grows to something of great constancy;
But, howsoever, strange and admirable.
But all four lovers tell exactly the same story about the night. When so many people see the same thing independently, it becomes more than mere imagination. There's something constant in their account.
But all four of them say the exact same thing happened. That's more than just fantasy. That has to mean something.
all four say the same that's not fantasy that's real
Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.
Joy, gentle friends, joy and fresh days of love
Accompany your hearts!
Here come the lovers, full of joy. Joy and blessings of love accompany your hearts!
Here come the lovers, so happy and full of life! May you have joy and love all your days together!
they're here / so happy / congrats
More than to us
Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed!
More than we receive here. Wait for you in your royal walks, your table, and your bedroom!
More good things will come your way everywhere—in the palace, at meals, and in your chambers!
way more good stuff coming your way everywhere. palace. meals. bedroom. all of it.
Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have,
To wear away this long age of three hours
Between our after-supper and bed-time?
Where is our usual manager of mirth?
What revels are in hand? Is there no play
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
Call Philostrate.
So, what masques and dances can we have to get through this long stretch of three hours between dinner and bedtime? Where is our usual entertainment director? What kind of celebrations or entertainment do we have planned? Is there no play to make this painful wait go by faster? Someone call Philostrate.
Alright, what do we have for entertainment? We need some dancing and costumes to kill these three hours between supper and bed. Who's our entertainment guy anyway? What kind of parties or shows do we have going? Come on, there's got to be a play or something to make this wait more bearable. Get Philostrate in here.
we need entertainment 3 hours til bed is forever dances? costumes? plays? something? call philostrate rn
Here, mighty Theseus.
Here, mighty Theseus.
I'm here, my lord.
here
Say, what abridgment have you for this evening?
What masque? What music? How shall we beguile
The lazy time, if not with some delight?
Tell me, what entertainment do you have for tonight? What masked dance? What music? How can we pass this long empty time if not with something enjoyable?
So, what've you got for us tonight? Any fancy dances? Music? How are we gonna kill these three hours before bed if not with something fun?
what u got for tonight? dances? music? how do we not die of boredom til bed?
There is a brief how many sports are ripe.
Make choice of which your Highness will see first.
I have a list of entertainments available. Choose whichever you'd like to see first.
I've got a list of what we can offer for entertainment. Pick whichever one appeals to you.
got options / pick one
[_Reads_] ‘The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung
By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.’
We’ll none of that. That have I told my love
In glory of my kinsman Hercules.
‘The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage?’
That is an old device, and it was play’d
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
‘The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
Of learning, late deceas’d in beggary.’
That is some satire, keen and critical,
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.
‘A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus
And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth.’
Merry and tragical? Tedious and brief?
That is hot ice and wondrous strange snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord?
[Reading] 'The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung by an Athenian eunuch to the harp.' We'll have none of that. I have already told my love about that in the glory of my kinsman Hercules. 'The riot of the drunken Bacchanals, tearing the Thracian singer in their rage?' That is an old trick, and it was performed when I came back from Thebes as a conqueror. 'The three Muses mourning for the death of learning, which died in poverty.' That is some satire, keen and critical, not fitting for a wedding ceremony. 'A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus and his love Thisbe; very tragic comedy.' Merry and tragic? Tedious and brief? That is contradictory—like hot ice and wonderfully strange snow. How shall we find harmony in this discord?
[Reading] 'The battle with the Centaurs, sung by an eunuch to the harp.' No, we don't want that. I've already told my wife that story when talking about Hercules. 'The drunken Bacchanals tearing apart the Thracian singer?' That's old stuff—we did that performance when I conquered Thebes. 'The three Muses mourning learning's death in poverty.' That's biting satire, but not right for a wedding. 'A brief but tedious scene of Pyramus and Thisbe, tragically funny.' Wait—funny and tragic at the same time? Brief but tedious? That's contradictory. It's like hot ice or strange cold snow. These don't make sense.
no to all of these pyramus and thisbe? funny and tragic? brief and tedious? makes no sense
A play there is, my lord, some ten words long,
Which is as brief as I have known a play;
But by ten words, my lord, it is too long,
Which makes it tedious. For in all the play
There is not one word apt, one player fitted.
And tragical, my noble lord, it is.
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself,
Which, when I saw rehears’d, I must confess,
Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
The passion of loud laughter never shed.
There is a play, my lord, about ten words long - the briefest play I know - but even at ten words it's still too long, which makes it boring. In the entire play there's not a single right word or an actor who fits his part. And it's tragic, my lord - Pyramus kills himself in it. When I watched the rehearsal, I have to admit, it made my eyes water. Though to be honest, those were tears of laughter, not genuine emotion.
Look, there's a play, my lord - super short, only about ten words. But somehow even ten words is too much, makes it drag on forever. The problem is, nothing in it works right - bad writing, miscast actors, everything's wrong. And it's supposed to be tragic - the main character dies. When I saw them rehearse it, I literally cried. But let's be real, I was laughing so hard I cried.
there's this 10-word play even that's too long nothing about it works character dies i cried at rehearsal (from laughing)
What are they that do play it?
Who performs this?
Who does it?
who
Hard-handed men that work in Athens here,
Which never labour’d in their minds till now;
And now have toil’d their unbreath’d memories
With this same play against your nuptial.
Simple working men from Athens who labor with their hands. They're not professionals, but they're trying their best.
Regular guys. Workers from Athens. They're not actors, but they're gonna try.
regular guys workers trying hard
And we will hear it.
And we will hear it. Let them perform.
Yeah, let's see it. I wanna hear it.
let's see
No, my noble lord,
It is not for you: I have heard it over,
And it is nothing, nothing in the world;
Unless you can find sport in their intents,
Extremely stretch’d and conn’d with cruel pain
To do you service.
No, my lord, it's not appropriate for you. I've already seen the whole thing and it's nothing, completely worthless, unless you can find entertainment in watching them struggle with extreme effort and painful rehearsal to serve you.
No really, my lord, you don't want this. I've seen the whole thing - it's terrible, it's nothing. The only way you'd enjoy it is if you found it funny watching these guys work so incredibly hard and suffer through this rehearsal just to impress you.
no don't watch it it's nothing only funny if u laugh at them trying so hard
I will hear that play;
For never anything can be amiss
When simpleness and duty tender it.
Go, bring them in: and take your places, ladies.
I want to hear that play; Because nothing can be wrong when something offered with simple honesty and respect. Bring them in, please; ladies, take your seats.
I'm gonna listen to it. Because nothing's actually bad when people offer it with honest effort and respect. Go get them; ladies, sit down.
im hearing it. nothing's bad when ppl try their best and respect it. bring em in. ladies sit.
I love not to see wretchedness o’ercharged,
And duty in his service perishing.
I hate to see someone struggling so hard at something they can't do, and their sincere effort being ruined.
I don't like watching someone work so hard at something they're not good at, and then their genuine effort just gets destroyed.
hate watching someone try so hard and fail. their effort getting destroyed.
Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.
You won't see that. These people are confident and they'll do well. Trust me.
Don't worry. They'll be fine. They know what they're doing.
they'll be fine trust me
He says they can do nothing in this kind.
He says they're not skilled at this sort of thing.
But he says they're not good at this.
not skilled
The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing.
Our sport shall be to take what they mistake:
And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect
Takes it in might, not merit.
Where I have come, great clerks have purposed
To greet me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practis’d accent in their fears,
And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off,
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet,
Out of this silence yet I pick’d a welcome;
And in the modesty of fearful duty
I read as much as from the rattling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity
In least speak most to my capacity.
Why, sweet one, you won't see such a thing. Our entertainment will be in taking their mistakes as humor: And what sincere effort cannot do, noble respect takes by treating it as if it were important, not based on actual merit. Where I have come, great scholars have planned to greet me with prepared welcomes; Where I have seen them shake and grow pale, make stops in the middle of their sentences, throttle their practiced speaking in their fear, And, in the end, silently stopped completely, Not giving me a welcome at all. Trust me, sweet one, From this silence I still picked out a welcome; And in the modesty of nervous respect I read as much as from the rattling tongue of bold and shameless eloquence. Love, therefore, and shy, tongue-tied honesty Speak most to what I can understand.
No, sweet, you won't see that. Our fun will be laughing at the mistakes they make— and what their genuine effort can't accomplish, we'll appreciate anyway, by treating it with real respect, not judging it on actual quality. Wherever I've gone, educated people have tried to greet me with prepared speeches; But I've seen them shake and turn pale, stop talking mid-sentence, lose their practiced voice because of nerves, And end up just going silent and walking away, without saying anything at all. But trust me, love, I still found a welcome in that silence; And beneath that nervous, respectful quietness I understood as much as from someone rattling off bold, cocky words. So genuine love, and shy, honest silence mean more to me than fancy talk.
ur fine. theyre gonna mess up and well just laugh. what they cant pull off well just respect the effort. dont judge. i go places. smart people prep fancy speeches. they get nervous. lose it. go silent. but honestly i get it anyway from the quiet. shyness and real effort > fancy words
So please your grace, the Prologue is address’d.
My lord, the prologue is ready to be performed.
My lord, they're ready.
ready
Let him approach.
Let the prologue approach.
Let 'em come up.
go
PROLOGUE
If we offend, it is with our good will.
That you should think, we come not to offend,
But with good will. To show our simple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end.
Consider then, we come but in despite.
We do not come, as minding to content you,
Our true intent is. All for your delight
We are not here. That you should here repent you,
The actors are at hand, and, by their show,
You shall know all that you are like to know.
If we offend you, it's only with good intentions. We come not to upset you, but with good will. We're here to show you our simple skill—that's truly what we're trying to do. We come despite our limitations. We're not here just for ourselves—our real goal is your entertainment. The actors are ready, and through their performance you'll see everything you're meant to understand.
If we mess up, we don't mean to. We're here with the best intentions, not to upset anyone. We just want to show what we can do—that's what this is all about. We know we're not perfect, but we're trying. We only care about making you happy. The actors are ready, and you'll understand everything from watching them.
if we mess up no offense intended just want to entertain actors ready enjoy the show
This fellow doth not stand upon points.
This fellow doesn't pay attention to punctuation.
He's not worrying about his punctuation marks.
ignored punctuation / just rambling
He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows not the stop. A
good moral, my lord: it is not enough to speak, but to speak true.
He galloped through his prologue like an untrained young horse; he has no idea where to halt. There's a useful lesson in that, my lord: talking isn't sufficient; you have to talk correctly.
He charged through that intro like a wild pony with no brakes. Lesson learned, my lord: it's not enough to just say words, you've got to say them right.
bro sprinted thru that speech like a runaway horse no brakes at all moral of the story: talking isn't enough, say it right
Indeed he hath played on this prologue like a child on a recorder; a
sound, but not in government.
He's treated this prologue like a child treats a broken recorder. Blowing through the whole thing without sense.
He just blew through it like a kid with a broken flute. No finesse.
blew through it no finesse
His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing impaired, but all
disordered. Who is next?
His presentation was confused and tangled, but you can understand the basic meaning. It's rough, but it works.
It was a mess, but you got the idea. It's bad but honest.
confusing but clear bad but honest
Pyramus and Thisbe is both the worst play in A Midsummer Night's Dream and one of its best scenes. The mechanicals' production fails by every theatrical standard: the Wall explains himself, the Lion introduces himself as Snug the joiner, Moonshine carries a lantern and identifies himself, Quince's prologue spoils the plot and says the opposite of its meaning, Bottom dies five times and offers entertainment options from his own corpse. And yet the audience — both the on-stage aristocrats and the off-stage theatre audience — is completely delighted. The scene works because the mechanicals' earnestness and commitment are genuine, and because Shakespeare has carefully made us care about them before they perform. Bottom, Quince, Flute, Snug, Snout, and Starveling are not just comic targets — they are people who worked hard and wanted to give pleasure. Theseus says it best: 'the best in this kind are but shadows, and the worst are no worse if imagination amend them.' The same faculty — imagination — that made the enchanted forest real, makes the terrible play wonderful.
PROLOGUE
Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show;
But wonder on, till truth make all things plain.
This man is Pyramus, if you would know;
This beauteous lady Thisbe is certain.
This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present
Wall, that vile wall which did these lovers sunder;
And through Wall’s chink, poor souls, they are content
To whisper, at the which let no man wonder.
This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn,
Presenteth Moonshine, for, if you will know,
By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn
To meet at Ninus’ tomb, there, there to woo.
This grisly beast (which Lion hight by name)
The trusty Thisbe, coming first by night,
Did scare away, or rather did affright;
And as she fled, her mantle she did fall;
Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain.
Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth, and tall,
And finds his trusty Thisbe’s mantle slain;
Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
He bravely broach’d his boiling bloody breast;
And Thisbe, tarrying in mulberry shade,
His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,
Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain,
At large discourse while here they do remain.
Ladies and gentlemen, you may wonder at this performance, but wait until the truth becomes clear. This man plays Pyramus; this beautiful lady is Thisbe, certainly. This man with lime and rough plaster represents the Wall—that cruel wall that separated these lovers. Through a hole in the Wall, these poor souls whisper to each other—don't be surprised. This man with a lantern, dog, and thorn bush represents Moonshine; the lovers thought it proper to meet at Ninus' tomb by moonlight. This frightening beast is the Lion; when faithful Thisbe arrives first at night, the Lion terrifies her and she drops her cloak, which the Lion stains with blood. Then Pyramus arrives, finds Thisbe's bloody cloak, and in despair stabs his own breast with his blade; Thisbe, waiting beneath the mulberry tree, takes his dagger and kills herself. Wall, Lion, Moonshine, and the lovers will explain the rest as they perform.
Ladies and gentlemen, you might be confused by what you're about to see, but it'll all make sense. This guy is Pyramus; this beautiful woman is Thisbe. This one made of plaster is the Wall—the cruel wall that kept them apart. They whisper to each other through a hole in it. That guy with the lantern and bush represents Moonshine—the lovers sneak out at night to meet by moonlight. This scary creature is the Lion. When Thisbe comes first, the Lion scares her and she drops her cape, which gets all bloody. Pyramus shows up, sees the blood, and kills himself in despair. Thisbe finds him and kills herself with his dagger. Wall, Lion, Moonshine, and the lovers will explain everything else.
pyramus and thisbe story wall keeps lovers apart they whisper through hole lion scares thisbe both die tragically
I wonder if the lion be to speak.
I wonder if the lion character will actually have any lines to speak.
Do you think the lion will actually get to say anything?
wait the lion talks?
No wonder, my lord. One lion may, when many asses do.
No wonder, my lord. One lion can do so, when many men act like asses.
Makes sense, my lord. A lion might do that, but then again, lots of guys do stupid things.
yeah makes sense. one lion can do it when tons of guys act like dumbasses
In this same interlude it doth befall
That I, one Snout by name, present a wall:
And such a wall as I would have you think
That had in it a crannied hole or chink,
Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisbe,
Did whisper often very secretly.
This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show
That I am that same wall; the truth is so:
And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.
In this play, I, Snout, represent a wall. It's a wall with a crack or hole in it through which the lovers Pyramus and Thisbe whisper their secrets to each other. This clay, this rough plaster, and this stone show that I am that wall - that's the truth. And this crack, opening on both sides, is the hole through which the frightened lovers will whisper to each other.
So in this little play, I'm a wall - my name's Snout. It's the kind of wall that has a hole in it, a crack really, and that's how Pyramus and Thisbe can whisper to each other in secret. See, all this clay and plaster and stone? That's me, that's the wall. And this opening right here - that's the crack they whisper through on both sides.
i'm the wall i got a crack in me that's how pyramus & thisbe talk secret thru here
Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?
Would you want lime and hair to make a better speech?
Would you want a wall made of lime and hair to speak better?
would u want lime and hair to talk better lol
It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord.
That is the most clever wall I have ever heard speak, my lord.
That's the wittiest wall I've ever heard talk, my lord.
thats the smartest wall ive ever heard speak
Pyramus draws near the wall; silence.
Pyramus is approaching the wall; everyone be quiet.
Pyramus is coming up to the wall; hush.
pyramus is coming to the wall. shh.
O grim-look’d night! O night with hue so black!
O night, which ever art when day is not!
O night, O night, alack, alack, alack,
I fear my Thisbe’s promise is forgot!
And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall,
That stand’st between her father’s ground and mine;
Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall,
Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne.
O grim-looking night! O night with such black color! O night, you who always come when day is gone! O night, O night, oh sad, sad, sad, I'm afraid my Thisbe has forgotten her promise! And you, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, You who stand between her father's land and mine; You wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, Show me your crack, so I can peek through with my eyes.
Oh dark, scary night! Oh night so pitch black! Oh night, you show up whenever the day disappears! Oh night, night, this is so sad, I'm terrified my Thisbe forgot what she promised me! And you, oh wall, oh beautiful wall, you standing between her father's house and mine; Oh wall, oh wall, oh beautiful and sweet wall, show me your crack so I can look through it with my eyes.
oh dark terrifying night. so black. you come when day leaves. oh no oh no oh no im scared thisbe forgot. and you wall. sweet wall. between her dads place and mine. show me that hole so i can see through it
Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for this!
But what see I? No Thisbe do I see.
O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss,
Curs’d be thy stones for thus deceiving me!
Thank you, generous wall, and may Jupiter protect you for this! But what do I see? I don't see Thisbe anywhere. Oh wicked wall, through which I see no joy, cursed be your stones for deceiving me!
Thanks for your help, wall! I hope you're blessed for this! But wait—where's Thisbe? I don't see her! You terrible wall, you tricked me! Your stones are cursed for letting me down!
thanks wall but where's thisbe wicked wall cursed for deceiving me
The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.
The wall, I would think, being aware of what's happening, should yell back at him.
The wall, I'd figure, since it can hear, should talk back.
the wall should prob yell back at him lol
No, in truth, sir, he should not. ‘Deceiving me’ is Thisbe’s cue: she
is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the wall. You shall see it
will fall pat as I told you. Yonder she comes.
No, honestly sir, the wall shouldn't respond. 'Deceiving me' is Thisbe's line - that's her cue to enter right now, and I'm supposed to catch sight of her through the wall. You'll see it will work out perfectly, just as I told you. Look, there she comes now.
No wait, the wall doesn't talk back. 'Deceiving me' - that's Thisbe's line, that's when she comes on stage, and I look at her through the wall. Trust me, it's gonna work exactly like I said. Here she comes now.
nah wall doesn't talk thisbe says her line & comes in i look at her thru the wall here she is
O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans,
For parting my fair Pyramus and me.
My cherry lips have often kiss’d thy stones,
Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.
Wall, you've heard my cries so many times because you keep me apart from my beautiful Pyramus. My red lips have kissed your stones so often, these stones of yours made from lime and hair woven together.
You've heard me cry so many times, wall, because you're what keeps me away from my beautiful Pyramus. I've kissed these stones of yours so much - made of lime and hair all mixed together.
u heard me cry so much cuz u keep me from pyramus i've kissed u so many times
I see a voice; now will I to the chink,
To spy an I can hear my Thisbe’s face.
Thisbe?
I hear a voice; now I'll go to the crack, to look and see if I can hear my Thisbe's face. Thisbe?
I hear a voice! Now I'm gonna go look through the crack to see if I can see my Thisbe's face. Thisbe?
i hear a voice! now im looking through the crack to see thisbes face. thisbe?
My love thou art, my love I think.
You are my love, and I'm confident of it.
You're my love, I'm sure of it.
ur my love
Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover’s grace;
And like Limander am I trusty still.
Believe what you want, I am the one blessed by your love; And like Leander, I remain faithfully devoted.
Think whatever you want, I'm the one who has your love; And like Leander, I'm staying loyal to you.
think what u want. im yours. like leander im staying loyal.
And I like Helen, till the fates me kill.
And I'm like Helen - beautiful and faithful - until death takes me.
And I'll be as devoted as Helen, until the day I die.
i'm faithful like helen til i die
Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.
No legendary lover was as faithful as Shafalus was to Procrus.
No lover in the old stories was as true as Shafalus was to Procrus.
no old legend lover was as true as shafalus to procrus
As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.
Just as Shafalus was devoted to Procrus, I am devoted to you.
I'm just as faithful to you as those devoted mythological lovers were to each other.
faithful 2 u like the old myths
O kiss me through the hole of this vile wall.
Oh kiss me through this hole in this terrible wall.
Please kiss me through this hole in this lousy wall.
kiss me through this stupid walls hole
I kiss the wall’s hole, not your lips at all.
I kiss the hole in the wall, not your actual lips.
I'm kissing the wall's hole, not your actual lips.
im kissing the wall not your lips lol
Wilt thou at Ninny’s tomb meet me straightway?
Will you meet me right now at Ninny's tomb?
So we're meeting at Ninny's tomb, yeah? I mean now, not later.
meet me at ninny's tomb now?
’Tide life, ’tide death, I come without delay.
No matter whether I live or die, I come without waiting.
Whether I live or die, I'm coming right away.
live or die. im coming now.
Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so;
And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.
So I have, Wall, completed my role; And, being done, I, Wall, now depart.
So I've done my job, Wall; and now that I'm finished, I'm leaving as Wall.
ive done my wall job. now im gone.
Now is the mural down between the two neighbours.
Now the wall has come down between the two neighbors.
So now the wall is down between the two lovers.
walls down between them now
No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning.
There's nothing we can do, my lord; when walls are so eager to listen without being told.
No help for it, my lord; walls are just too eager to eavesdrop.
cant help it. walls r too nosy
This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.
This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.
This has to be the dumbest thing I've ever seen.
this is literally so dumb
The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are no worse, if
imagination amend them.
The best performances of this type are only shadows anyway; and the worst ones are not worse if the audience uses their imagination to improve them.
The best plays are basically just illusions anyway; and bad ones aren't any worse if we use our imagination to fix them.
best plays r just illusions anyway. bad ones ok if u imagine better
The opening exchange between Theseus and Hippolyta in Act 5 is the play's philosophical debate in miniature. Theseus dismisses the lovers' account as the product of overheated imagination — he groups them with lunatics and poets. His speech is brilliant, well-argued, and wrong. Hippolyta's response is three sentences: she notes that all four lovers' stories agree, that the corroboration is 'more than fancy's images,' and that it 'grows to something of great constancy.' She is right. The evidence — four people independently reporting the same enchanted night — is exactly what distinguishes genuine experience from fantasy. Shakespeare gives the play's most rational character the wrong conclusion and its quietest character the correct observation. Hippolyta has been the observer throughout: she said little in Act 1, says little now, and what she says is consistently more accurate than those around her.
It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.
So your imagination must be doing all the work to make this good, not their acting.
So your imagination has to save this for you, not them.
ur imagination has 2 save this lol
If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, they may pass
for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts in, a man and a lion.
If we judge them no more harshly than they judge themselves, they can seem like excellent performers. Here come two amazing creatures, a man and a lion.
If we're not harder on them than they are on themselves, they might actually seem good. Look, here comes a man and a lion.
if we dont judge harder than they do theyre good. here comes the man and lion
You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear
The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,
May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here,
When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.
Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am
A lion fell, nor else no lion’s dam;
For if I should as lion come in strife
Into this place, ’twere pity on my life.
You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts are afraid of the smallest scary mouse that crawls on the ground, may now, perhaps, both shake and tremble here, when a wild lion roars with fierce rage. Then know that I, one Snug the carpenter, am a fierce lion, not actually a lion's mate; For if I came in as a real lion to fight in this place, my life would be in danger.
You ladies, you whose tender hearts are scared of the tiniest mouse running on the floor, may now perhaps shake and tremble here, when a wild lion lets out a fierce roar. But know that I'm Snug the carpenter, am a fierce lion in make-believe, not a real one; Because if I came as an actual lion ready to fight in here, it would be dangerous for me.
ladies ur scared of tiny mice but now here comes a wild roaring lion im snug the carpenter tho playing a fierce lion fake lion if i was real id get hurt
A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.
A very kind creature, and with a good conscience.
A very gentle animal, and a good person too.
super nice animal. good heart.
The very best at a beast, my lord, that e’er I saw.
The very best lion, my lord, that I have ever seen.
The best lion I've ever seen, my lord.
best lion ive ever seen
This lion is a very fox for his valour.
This lion is actually a coward disguised as a lion.
This lion is actually a coward pretending to be brave.
this lion is a coward lol
True; and a goose for his discretion.
True; and he's a foolish bird for his good judgment.
Right; and he's a goose for his common sense.
yep. hes a goose for his brains
Not so, my lord, for his valour cannot carry his discretion, and the
fox carries the goose.
Not so, my lord, for his bravery cannot match his good judgment, and the fox eats the goose.
Not true, my lord, because his courage doesn't live up to his common sense, and the fox eats the goose.
nah his bravery doesnt match his brains and foxes eat geese
His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour; for the goose
carries not the fox. It is well; leave it to his discretion, and let us
listen to the moon.
His good judgment, I'm sure, cannot match his bravery; for the goose doesn't eat the fox. It's fine; leave it to his judgment, and let us listen to the moon.
His common sense definitely can't match his courage; because geese don't eat foxes. Anyway, let's just leave it to him and listen to the moon instead.
his brains cant match his guts. geese dont eat foxes. whatever. listen to the moon.
This lanthorn doth the hornèd moon present.
This lantern represents the horned moon.
This lantern is supposed to be the moon with horns.
this lantern is the horned moon
He should have worn the horns on his head.
He should have put the horns on the side of his head instead.
Those horns should be strapped to his head, not floating on a lantern.
horns go on head not lantern
He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the
circumference.
He is not crescent-shaped, and his horns are invisible inside the circle.
He's not shaped like a crescent, and his horns are hidden inside the circle.
hes not crescent. horns r invisible inside
This lanthorn doth the hornèd moon present;
Myself the man i’ the moon do seem to be.
This lantern represents the horned moon; I myself seem to be the man in the moon.
This lantern is the moon with horns; I'm the man in the moon.
this lanterns the horned moon. im the man in it.
This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man should be put into
the lantern. How is it else the man i’ the moon?
This is the biggest mistake of all; the man should be inside the lantern. Otherwise, how is he the man in the moon?
That's the worst mistake yet; the man should be in the lantern. Otherwise, how's he the man in the moon?
worst mistake ever. mans supposed to be IN the lantern. duh
He dares not come there for the candle, for you see, it is already in
snuff.
He doesn't dare go in there because of the candle; because you see, it's already burning and smoking.
He won't go in there because of the candle; it's already lit and smoking.
cant go in cuz of candle. its already lit and smoking
I am aweary of this moon. Would he would change!
I'm tired of this moon. I wish he would stop being the moon!
I'm sick of this moon. I hope he's done being the moon!
im tired of this moon. hope hes done
It appears by his small light of discretion that he is in the wane; but
yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time.
It seems from his poor light of judgment that he is fading away; but still, out of politeness, in all fairness, we must wait.
It looks like from his dim light that he's fading out; but anyway, we gotta be polite and wait.
he looks like hes fading based on his dim light. but were being nice so we wait
Proceed, Moon.
Go ahead, Moon.
Keep going, Moon.
go moon
All that I have to say, is to tell you that the lantern is the moon; I
the man i’ the moon; this thorn-bush my thorn-bush; and this dog my
dog.
Listen, the lantern represents the moon; I am the man living inside the moon; this thorn-bush is part of my setting; and this dog is also part of my scenery.
Here's the deal: the lantern is the moon. I'm the guy who lives in it. This bush and this dog—they're all part of what you see in the moon.
lantern = moon. im the guy in it. bush and dog part of my world
Why, all these should be in the lantern, for all these are in the moon.
But silence; here comes Thisbe.
Why, all of these things should be inside the lantern, since they're all part of the moon. But be quiet; here comes Thisbe.
Yeah, all that stuff should be in the lantern since it's all in the moon. But shh; here's Thisbe.
all that should be in the lantern cuz its all in the moon. shh thisbes here
This is old Ninny’s tomb. Where is my love?
This is old Ninny's grave. Where is my love?
This is Ninny's old grave. Where's my boyfriend?
this is ninnys tomb. where is he
Oh!
Oh!
Oh!
oh!
Well roared, Lion.
Excellent roaring, Lion.
Nice roar, Lion.
good roar lion
Well run, Thisbe.
Good running, Thisbe.
Nice running, Thisbe.
good running thisbe
Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with a good grace.
Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines so beautifully.
Great work, Moon. The moon is really looking good.
nice moon work. moons looking good
Well moused, Lion.
Well caught, Lion.
Nice catch, Lion.
nice catch lion
And then came Pyramus.
Then Pyramus arrived.
Then Pyramus showed up.
then pyramus came
And so the lion vanished.
And the lion has disappeared.
And then the lion just took off.
and lion bailed
Puck's epilogue does something that no other Shakespearean epilogue quite does: it offers the audience a complete escape from anything that bothered them. 'Think but this and all is mended — that you have but slumbered here while these visions did appear.' If you were troubled by the threatened death sentence in Act 1; if you were uncomfortable with Oberon's manipulation of his wife; if Lysander's sudden hatred of Hermia disturbed you; if Demetrius's love for Helena seems manufactured — file it all as a dream. This is Puck's gift. The play has asked its audience to hold multiple uncomfortable truths alongside the comedy, and at the end it grants permission to release them all. 'This weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream.' The word 'weak' is quietly honest: the play knows its own cost. And then it asks for your hands if you're friends. After everything, that's the final gesture: friendship.
Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;
I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright;
For, by thy gracious golden, glittering gleams,
I trust to take of truest Thisbe sight.
But stay! O spite!
But mark, poor knight,
What dreadful dole is here!
Eyes, do you see?
How can it be?
O dainty duck! O dear!
Thy mantle good,
What, stained with blood?
Approach, ye Furies fell!
O Fates, come, come;
Cut thread and thrum;
Quail, rush, conclude, and quell!
Sweet Moon, I thank you for your sunny beams; I thank you, Moon, for shining so brightly now; For, by your gracious golden, glittering light, I trust to see my dearest Thisbe. But wait! Oh no! But look, poor knight, What terrible grief is here! Eyes, do you see? How can this be? Oh sweet one! Oh dear! Your cloak so good, What, stained with blood? Come, you Furies so fierce! Oh Fates, come, come; Cut thread and end; Finish, destroy, and kill!
Sweet Moon, thanks for the bright beams; I thank you, Moon, for shining so bright; Because with your beautiful glittering light, I'm sure I can see my Thisbe. But hold on! Oh no! But look, poor me, What horrible tragedy is this! Eyes, are you seeing this? How is this possible? Oh my love! Oh my sweetheart! Your lovely cloak, What—covered in blood? Come here, you fierce Furies! Oh Fates, come here; Cut the thread and be done; End this, destroy it, kill it!
thanks moon for bright beams. shining so good. with your light i see thisbe. but wait. OH NO. look at this. tragedy. do u see this how is this real oh my love my sweetheart your cloak blood everywhere cfuries come. fates come. end this. destroy it.
This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a
man look sad.
This emotional display, and the death of a close friend, would almost make a person look sad.
This emotional scene, and losing a close friend, would almost make someone look sad.
this passion and losing a friend would make u sad
Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.
Curse my heart, but I feel sorry for this man.
I curse my own heart, but I feel bad for this guy.
damn i feel bad for him
O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame,
Since lion vile hath here deflower’d my dear?
Which is—no, no—which was the fairest dame
That liv’d, that lov’d, that lik’d, that look’d with cheer.
Come, tears, confound!
Out, sword, and wound
The pap of Pyramus;
Ay, that left pap,
Where heart doth hop:
Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.
Now am I dead,
Now am I fled;
My soul is in the sky.
Tongue, lose thy light!
Moon, take thy flight!
Now die, die, die, die, die.
Oh why, Nature, did you create lions, Since a vile lion has destroyed my beloved here? Who is—no, no—who was the most beautiful woman That lived, that loved, that liked, that looked cheerfully. Come, tears, overwhelm me! Out, sword, and cut The chest of Pyramus; Yes, that left chest, Where my heart beats: So die I, so, so, so. Now am I dead, Now am I gone; My soul is in the sky. Tongue, lose your light! Moon, leave! Now die, die, die, die, die.
Oh why did Nature make lions, Since a rotten lion has ruined my sweetheart here? Who is—no wait—who was the most beautiful girl That existed, that loved, that cared, that looked happy. Come, tears, crush me! Out, sword, stab me In the heart; Yes, the left side, Where my heart pounds: So I die, so, so, so. Now I'm dead, Now I'm gone; My spirit is in heaven. Tongue, stop speaking! Moon, go away! Now die, die, die, die, die.
why did nature make lions a lion destroyed my love she was beautiful she loved me come tears. sword kill me. in the heart. so i die so so so im dead. gone. spirit in sky. tongue shut up. moon go away. die die die die die
No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one.
No die, but an ace for him; because he is only one person.
Not a die, but an ace for him; he's just one guy.
not a die. just an ace. hes just one guy.
Less than an ace, man; for he is dead, he is nothing.
Even less than an ace, friend; for he is dead—he is absolutely nothing.
Not even an ace; he's dead—he's worth nothing.
not even an ace. dead. nothing.
With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover and prove an ass.
With the help of a doctor he might still recover and prove to be a fool.
With a doctor's help he might pull through and turn out to be an ass.
with a doctor hed recover and be an ass
How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisbe comes back and finds her
lover?
How is it that Moonshine left before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover?
How'd Moonshine leave before Thisbe comes back and finds her boyfriend?
how did moon leave before thisbe finds her lover
She will find him by starlight.
The starlight will be enough for her to find him.
The stars will give her plenty of light to see him.
starlight will help her find him
Here she comes, and her passion ends the play.
Here she comes, and her emotional outburst will end the play.
Here comes Thisbe, and her big emotional moment wraps everything up.
here comes thisbe her scene ends the play
Methinks she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus. I hope she
will be brief.
I think she shouldn't take a long time for such a Pyramus. I hope she will be quick.
I don't think she should take forever for a Pyramus like that. I hope she's quick.
she shouldnt take forever for this pyramus. hope shes quick.
A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the
better: he for a man, God warrant us; she for a woman, God bless us!
A tiny thing will determine which is better, Pyramus or Thisbe: he as a man, God protect us; she as a woman, God bless us!
It's a close call between Pyramus and Thisbe for who's better: he's the better man, heaven help us; she's the better woman, heaven bless us!
close call pyramus vs thisbe whos better. hes better man. shes better woman. god help us both
She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.
She has already spotted him with those beautiful eyes.
She's already seen him with those gorgeous eyes.
she already saw him with those sweet eyes
And thus she means, _videlicet_—
And so she means—that is to say—
And so she means—in other words—
and so she means like
Asleep, my love?
What, dead, my dove?
O Pyramus, arise,
Speak, speak. Quite dumb?
Dead, dead? A tomb
Must cover thy sweet eyes.
These lily lips,
This cherry nose,
These yellow cowslip cheeks,
Are gone, are gone!
Lovers, make moan;
His eyes were green as leeks.
O Sisters Three,
Come, come to me,
With hands as pale as milk;
Lay them in gore,
Since you have shore
With shears his thread of silk.
Tongue, not a word:
Come, trusty sword,
Come, blade, my breast imbrue;
And farewell, friends.
Thus Thisbe ends.
Adieu, adieu, adieu.
Asleep, my love? What, dead, my dove? Oh Pyramus, wake up, Speak, speak. Completely silent? Dead, dead? A grave Must cover your beautiful eyes. These lily-white lips, This cherry nose, These yellow primrose cheeks, Are gone, are gone! Lovers, cry out; His eyes were green as leeks. Oh Fates of doom, Come, come to me, With hands as pale as milk; Lay them in gore, Since you have cut With shears his thread of silk. Tongue, not a word: Come, reliable sword, Come, blade, cut into me; And goodbye, friends. So Thisbe ends. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
Asleep, my love? Dead, my love? Oh Pyramus, wake up, Talk, talk. You're quiet? Dead, dead? A grave Needs to cover your beautiful eyes. These lily-white lips, This cherry nose, These yellow flower cheeks, Are gone, are gone! All you lovers, cry; His eyes were green as leeks. Oh cruel Fates, Come, come to me, With pale hands like milk; Dip them in blood, Since you've cut His silk thread with shears. Tongue, don't speak: Come, faithful sword, Come, blade, stab me; And goodbye, everyone. This is how Thisbe ends. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
asleep baby dead baby pyramus wake up talk talk. silent dead. dead. grave should cover your eyes. lily lips. cherry nose. yellow cheeks. gone. gone. lovers cry. his eyes green as leeks. cruelfates come. pale hands like milk. cut in blood. silk thread cut. tongue dont speak. sword come. blade stab me. goodbye friends. this is how thisbe ends. goodbye.
Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead.
The job of burying these bodies falls to Moonshine and the Lion.
So Moonshine and the Lion have to stay behind and handle the burial.
moon and lion have to bury them
Ay, and Wall too.
Yes, and Wall too.
Yep, and Wall as well.
and wall too
No, I assure you; the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it
please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance between
two of our company?
No, I promise you; the wall is gone—it separated their fathers. Will you like to see the epilogue, or to hear a country dance between two of our actors?
No, I'm telling you; the wall is down—it was between their families. Do you want to see an epilogue, or watch two of us do a country dance?
nah walls down it separated their dads. want an epilogue or watch us country dance
No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Never excuse;
for when the players are all dead there need none to be blamed. Marry,
if he that writ it had played Pyramus, and hanged himself in Thisbe’s
garter, it would have been a fine tragedy; and so it is, truly; and
very notably discharged. But come, your Bergomask; let your epilogue
alone.
No epilogue, please; your play needs no excuse. Never make excuses; because when all the actors are dead there's no one to blame. But if the one who wrote it had played Pyramus and hanged himself with Thisbe's garter, that would have been a fine tragedy; and so it is, truly; and very skillfully performed. But come, your country dance; forget the epilogue.
No epilogue, thanks; your play doesn't need any excuses. Don't apologize; because once everyone's dead there's nobody to blame. But if the writer had played Pyramus and hanged himself with Thisbe's garter, now that would've been a great tragedy; and honestly it is pretty tragic as it is; and you all did great. But let's do your country dance instead; skip the epilogue.
no epilogue ur play needs no excuse. dont explain urself. everyones dead cant blame anyone. if the writer played pyramus and hung himself thats a tragedy. but it is tragic anyway. u did good. do the country dance instead
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve.
Lovers, to bed; ’tis almost fairy time.
I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn
As much as we this night have overwatch’d.
This palpable-gross play hath well beguil’d
The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed.
A fortnight hold we this solemnity
In nightly revels and new jollity.
The midnight bell has struck twelve. Lovers, to bed—it's nearly the time when fairies appear. I fear we'll sleep past dawn tomorrow as much as we've stayed awake tonight. This obviously crude play has done a fine job passing the long night. Good friends, let's go to bed. We'll celebrate this wedding for two weeks with nightly parties and new entertainment.
It's midnight. Everyone to bed—the fairies are about to come out. We've been up all night, so we'll probably sleep way past sunrise tomorrow. But honestly, this silly play really helped us get through the night. Friends, let's sleep. We're going to party for the next two weeks every single night.
it's midnight fairy time we've been up all night let's sleep two weeks of partying ahead
Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night
That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to glide.
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate’s team
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic; not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow’d house.
I am sent with broom before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.
Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf cries out to the moon; While the tired farmworker snores, All completely worn out by hard work. Now the burned-out logs glow, While the screech-owl, screeching loud, Puts the person who lies in misery In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night When the graves, all wide open, Every one lets forth his ghost, On the church paths to glide. And we fairies, who run By the three-part Hecate's team From the presence of the sun, Following darkness like a dream, Now are joyful; not a mouse Shall disturb this blessed house. I am sent with broom before, To sweep the dust behind the door.
Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf howls at the moon; While the tired farmer snores, All exhausted from working so hard. Now the dying fire glows, While the screech-owl, screeching loud, Puts the suffering person In mind of death. Now it's nighttime, When graves stand wide open, And ghosts come out, Gliding on church paths. And we fairies, who travel With Hecate's three-part team Away from the sun, Following the dark like a dream, Now are happy; not even a mouse Will disturb this blessed place. I'm sent sweeping ahead, To sweep the dust behind the door.
hungry lion roars. wolf howls at moon. farmer snores. exhausted. fires dying but glowing. screech owl screeching. people in bed thinking of death. now its night. graves open. ghosts come out. gliding on church paths. fairies like me travel with hecate. away from sun. following darkness. now happy. no mouse can mess this up. im sweeping. spread dust behind door.
Through the house give glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire.
Every elf and fairy sprite
Hop as light as bird from brier,
And this ditty after me,
Sing and dance it trippingly.
Throughout the house cast shimmering light, By the dead and sleepy fire. Every elf and fairy sprite Jump as light as a bird flying from a bush, And this little tune after me, Sing and dance it with lively steps.
Spread glimmering light through the whole house, From the dying, drowsy fire. Every elf and fairy Hop as light as birds jumping from bushes, And this little song after me, Sing and dance it quickly.
spread shimmering light through house. from the dying fire. every elf and fairy jump light like birds. this tune after me. sing and dance it fast.
First rehearse your song by rote,
To each word a warbling note;
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.
First learn your song by heart, To each word a musical note; Hand in hand, with fairy grace, We will sing, and bless this place.
First rehearse your song from memory, With a musical note for each word; Hand in hand, with fairy elegance, We'll sing and bless this place.
learn ur song by heart. ever word is musical. hand in hand. fairy grace. well sing and bless this place.
Now, until the break of day,
Through this house each fairy stray.
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessèd be;
And the issue there create
Ever shall be fortunate.
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be;
And the blots of Nature’s hand
Shall not in their issue stand:
Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in nativity,
Shall upon their children be.
With this field-dew consecrate,
Every fairy take his gait,
And each several chamber bless,
Through this palace, with sweet peace;
And the owner of it blest.
Ever shall it in safety rest,
Trip away. Make no stay;
Meet me all by break of day.
Now, until daybreak, Through this house each fairy roam. To the best bed for the newlyweds, will we go, Which by us shall be blessed; And the children born from there Will always be fortunate. So shall all three couples Always stay truly in love; And the flaws that Nature gave them Shall not appear in their children: Never a birthmark, cleft lip, or scar, Nor a strange mark such as these That are shameful at birth, Shall be on their children. With this water from the field, made holy, Every fairy take his leave, And each bedroom bless, Throughout this palace, with peace; And the owner of it blessed. Always shall it stay safe, Go away. Don't delay; Meet me all when morning comes.
Now, until the sun rises, Each fairy roams through this house. We'll go to the couples' marriage bed, And we'll bless it; And the babies born from there Will always be lucky. So all three couples Will always stay truly in love; And the birth defects that Nature gave them Won't show up in their kids: No birthmarks, no cleft lip, no scars, No strange mark like that's shameful when you're born, Will appear on their kids. With this blessed water from the field, Each fairy, go, And bless each bedroom, Throughout this palace, with peace; And may the owner of this place be blessed. It will always stay safe, Go now. Don't wait around; Meet me when the sun comes up.
til sunrise each fairy roams house. go to couples bed. bless it. babies from there always lucky. all 3 couples always in love. birth defects wont show up in kids. no marks. no scars. nothing. with blessed water from field go bless each room. bless the owner. place always safe. go now. dont wait. meet me at sunrise.
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber’d here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend.
If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearnèd luck
Now to ’scape the serpent’s tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call.
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
If we shadow-actors have offended you, Think only this, and all is forgiven, That you have only dreamed here While these visions appeared. And this weak and pointless story, Yielding nothing but a dream, Good people, do not criticize us. If you forgive us, we will improve. And, as I am an honest Robin Puck, If we have unearned luck Now to escape harsh judgment, We will make it up to you soon; Otherwise call Puck a liar. So, good night to you all. Applaud us, if we are your friends, And Robin will make amends.
If we shadow-performers have upset you, Just think this, and you'll forgive us, That you were just dreaming here While these visions played out. And this weak and pointless play, Which is nothing but a dream, Good people, don't be mad at us. If you forgive us, we'll do better. And, as I'm an honest Puck, If we get lucky And escape your judgment, We'll make it up to you; Otherwise call Puck a liar. So, good night to everyone. Clap for us if you're our friends, And Puck will make it right.
if we made u mad think this u were just dreaming this is just a dream story good people dont be mad forgive us well do better im honest puck if we escape judgment well make it up to u or im a liar good night everyone. clap if ur friends ill make it right
The Reckoning
The grand finale, and the scene that earns everything that came before. Act 5 is essentially a performance of a bad play watched by good audiences — the mechanicals doing Pyramus and Thisbe while the nobles comment, and the whole structure reflecting back on what we have just watched ourselves. Theseus's speech on imagination is the play's philosophical manifesto — delivered by the most rational character as a skeptic's dismissal, but heard by the audience as a description of exactly what we have agreed to for the past two hours. The play-within-the-play is the play's comic climax: every flaw in the mechanicals' production (the talking Wall, the moonshine and lion explaining themselves, Bottom's death scene) is both terrible theater and wonderful theater simultaneously. And then the fairies come to bless the house, and Puck's epilogue sends us home with the dream.
If this happened today…
The wedding reception after the most chaotic engagement week in history. The entertainment is a community theater production performed by the caterers. The bride and groom find it charming; their guests make under-their-breath jokes the whole way through. The star performer dies spectacularly from a prop sword. Then the lights go off, the venue is blessed by people nobody saw, and the host apologizes to the audience in case the whole thing was actually a dream.