Enter [QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT and STARVELING. TITANIA lying asleep.] BOTTOM Are we all met? QUINCE Pat, pat; and here’s a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn brake our tiring-house; and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the duke. […]
Continue ReadingAuthor: Hester Lees-Jeffries
Hermia: I had a bad dream! but Lysander, where ARE you? (2.2.149-160) #MoonMad #SlowShakespeare
HERMIA Help me, Lysander, help me: do thy best To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast. Ay me, for pity! What a dream was here! Lysander, look how I do quake with fear. Methought a serpent ate my heart away, And you sat smiling at his cruel prey. Lysander – what, removed? Lysander, lord – What, out of hearing, gone? No sound, no word? […]
Continue ReadingLysander: Hermia makes me SICK! Helena is my NEW OBSESSION! (2.2.139-148) #MoonMad #SlowShakespeare
LYSANDER She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there, And never mayst thou come Lysander near. For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as the heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive, So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but […]
Continue ReadingHelena: I don’t deserve this, Lysander; besides, I thought you were a gentleman! (2.2.127-138) #MoonMad #SlowShakespeare
HELENA Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? Is’t not enough, is’t not enough, young man, That I did never, no nor never can Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius’ eye, But you must flout my insufficiency? Good troth, you do me wrong; good sooth, you do, In such disdainful […]
Continue ReadingLysander to Helena: YOU’VE GOT REALLY NICE EYES! (2.2.121-126) #MoonMad #SlowShakespeare
LYSANDER Things growing are not ripe until their season; So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason. And touching now the point of human skill, Reason becomes the marshal to my will And leads me to your eyes, where I o’erlook Love’s stories, written in love’s richest book. (2.2.121-126) Lysander continues with his commonplaces and his logic, explaining exactly […]
Continue ReadingHelena: ??? Lysander: Who’s Hermia? I’m in love with YOU now! (2.2.112-120) #MoonMad #SlowShakespeare
HELENA Do not say so, Lysander, say not so. What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though? Yet Hermia still loves you; then be content. LYSANDER Content with Hermia? No, I do repent The tedious minutes I with her have spent. Not Hermia, but Helena I love. Who will not change a raven for a dove? The will […]
Continue ReadingHelena: who’s THIS? Lysander: *wakes instantly* HELLO BEAUTIFUL! (2.2.104-111) #MoonMad #SlowShakespeare
HELENA But who is here? Lysander, on the ground? Dead, or asleep? I see no blood, no wound. Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake. LYSANDER [Wakes.] And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake. Transparent Helena, nature shows art, That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart. Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word Is […]
Continue ReadingHelena: I am as ugly as a BEAR, how could I ever compete? (2.2.92-103) #MoonMad #SlowShakespeare
HELENA O, I am out of breath in this fond chase. The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace. Happy is Hermia, wheresoe’er she lies, For she hath blessed and attractive eyes. How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears; If so, my eyes are oftener washed than hers. No, no: I am as ugly as a bear, For beasts […]
Continue ReadingLove juice applied; enter Demetrius & Helena, exit Demetrius… (2.2.82-91) #MoonMad #SlowShakespeare
PUCK Churl, upon thy eyes I throw All the power this charm doth owe. [Squeezes the flower on Lysander’s eyelids.] When thou wak’st, let love forbid Sleep his seat on thy eyelid. So awake, when I am gone; For I must now to Oberon. (Exit.) Enter DEMETRIUS and HELENA running. HELENA Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius. DEMETRIUS I charge thee, hence, and […]
Continue ReadingPuck: no luck finding the mean Greek guy – but what have we here?? (2.2.70-81) #MoonMad #SlowShakespeare
Enter PUCK. PUCK Through the forest have I gone, But Athenian found I none On whose eyes I might approve This flower’s force in stirring love. Night and silence! Who is here? Weeds of Athens he doth wear. This is he, my master said, Despised the Athenian maid; And here the maiden, sleeping sound On the dank and dirty ground. […]
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