Once Upon A time
(The following scene is interaction with video. THESEUS, EGEUS, and HIPPOLYTA are on video, and LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, and HERMIA are on stage)
Happy be Theseus, our renowned Duke!
Did you hear that?
Thanks good Egeus. What’s the news with thee?
Full of vexation come I, with complaint against my child, my daughter Hermia.
(Spot light comes on Hermia on stage. )
(excited) I see someone.
That is Hermia.
She looks so sad.
Stand forth, Demetrius.
(DEMETRIUS steps into another spotlight.)
My noble lord, this man hath my consent to marry her
That’s Demetrius? Why, he’s a handsome man. Why doesn’t Hermia like him?
Hermia has fallen in love with another.
Stand forth Lysander.
(LYSANDER steps into another spotlight.)
And my gracious duke,
This man hath bewitch’d the bosom of my child;
Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes,
And interchanged love-tokens with my child:
Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung,
And stolen the impression of her fantasy
With bracelets of thy hair, rings,
Knacks, trifles, sweetmeats, messengers
Of strong prevailment in unharden’d youth:
With cunning hast thou filch’d my daughter’s heart,
Turn’d her obedience, which is due to me,
To stubborn harshness
Lysander sounds very romantic.
Yes. He professes his love with colorful words.
Maybe he could tell me what love is. (she walks towards LYSANDER)
No! (She pulls her back) You must watch, and listen.
And my gracious Duke, be it so she will not here before your Grace consent to marry with Demetrius, I beg the ancient privilege of Athens: as she is mine, I may dispose of her, which shall be either to this gentleman Demetrius or to her death, according to our law immediately provided in that case.
What? Do you mean that Hermia’s father is going to have his daughter killed if she doesn’t marry Demetrius? That’s terrible!
What say you, Hermia? be advised fair maid:
To you your father should be as a god;
Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.
So is Lysander.
In himself he is;
But in this kind, wanting your father’s voice,
The other must be held the worthier.
I would my father look’d but with my eyes.
Rather your eyes must with his judgment look.
I do entreat your grace to pardon me.
I know not by what power I am made bold,
Nor how it may concern my modesty,
In such a presence here to plead my thoughts;
But I beseech your grace that I may know
The worst that may befall me in this case,
If I refuse to wed Demetrius.
Either to die the death or to abjure
For ever the society of men.
Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires;
Know whether you can endure the livery of a nun,
To live a barren sister all your life,
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.
But earthlier happy is the rose distill’d,
Than that which withering on the virgin thorn
Grows, lives and dies in single blessedness.
So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord,
Ere I will my virgin patent up
Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke
My soul consents not to give sovereignty.
Take time to pause; and, by the next new moon–
Upon that day either prepare to die
For disobedience to your father’s will,
Or else to wed Demetrius.
Relent, sweet Hermia: and, Lysander, yield
Thy crazed title to my certain right.
You have her father’s love, Demetrius;
Let me have Hermia’s: do you marry him.
Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my love,
And what is mine my love shall render him.
And she is mine, and all my right of her
I do estate unto Demetrius.
I am, my lord, as well derived as he,
As well possess’d; my love is more than his;
My fortunes every way as fairly rank’d,
If not with vantage, as Demetrius’;
And, which is more than all these boasts can be,
I am beloved of beauteous Hermia:
Why should not I then prosecute my right?
Demetrius, I’ll avouch it to his head,
Made love to Nedar’s daughter, Helena,
And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes,
Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry,
Upon this spotted and inconstant man.
I must confess that I have heard so much,
And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof;
But, Demetrius, come;
And come, Egeus; you shall go with me,
For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself
To fit your fancies to your father’s will;
Or else the law of Athens yields you up–
To death, or to a vow of single life.
Come, my Hippolyta: what cheer, my love?
Demetrius and Egeus, go along:
I must employ you in some business
With duty and desire we follow you.
[Exit all but LYSANDER and HERMIA] The video ends here, but the background stays the same.
How now, my love! why is your cheek so pale?
How chance the roses there do fade so fast?
Belike for want of rain, which I could well
Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes.
Ay me! for aught that I could ever read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth;
But, either it was different in blood,–
O cross! too high to be enthrall’d to low.
Or else misgraffed in respect of years,–
O spite! too old to be engaged to young.
Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,–
O hell! to choose love by another’s eyes.
Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
Making it momentany as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream;
So quick bright things come to confusion.
If then true lovers have been ever cross’d,
It stands as an edict in destiny:
Then let us teach our trial patience,
Because it is a customary cross,
A good persuasion: therefore, hear me, Hermia.
I have a widow aunt, a dowager
Of great revenue, and she hath no child:
From Athens is her house remote seven leagues;
And she respects me as her only son.
There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee;
And to that place the sharp Athenian law
Cannot pursue us. If thou lovest me then,
Steal forth thy father’s house to-morrow night;
And in the wood, there will I stay for thee.
My good Lysander! I swear to thee, by Cupid’s strongest bow,
By his best arrow with the golden head,
In that same place thou hast appointed me,
To-morrow truly will I meet with thee.
Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena.
God speed fair Helena! whither away?
Call you me fair? that fair again unsay.
Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair!
Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue’s sweet air
More tuneable, than lark to shepherd’s ear,
When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.
Sickness is catching: O, were favour so,
Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go;
My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,
My tongue should catch your tongue’s sweet melody.
Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,
The rest I’d give to be to you translated.
O, teach me how you look, and with what art
You sway the motion of Demetrius’ heart.
I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.
O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill!
I give him curses, yet he gives me love.
O that my prayers could such affection move!
The more I hate, the more he follows me.
The more I love, the more he hateth me.
His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.
None, but your beauty: would that fault were mine!
Take comfort: he no more shall see my face;
Lysander and myself will fly this place.
Helen, to you our minds we will unfold:
To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold
Her silver visage in the watery glass,
Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass,
A time that lovers’ flights doth still conceal,
Through Athens’ gates have we devised to steal.
And in the wood, where often you and I
Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie,
Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet,
There my Lysander and myself shall meet;
And thence from Athens turn away our eyes,
To seek new friends and stranger companies.
Farewell, sweet playfellow: pray thou for us;
And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!
Keep word, Lysander: we must starve our sight
From lovers’ food till morrow deep midnight.
I will, my Hermia.
As you on him, Demetrius dote on you!
How happy some o’er other some can be!
Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so;
He will not know what all but he do know:
And as he errs, doting on Hermia’s eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities:
Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity:
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind:
For ere Demetrius look’d on Hermia’s eyne,
He hail’d down oaths that he was only mine;
And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt,
So he dissolved, and showers of oaths did melt.
I will go tell him of fair Hermia’s flight:
Then to the wood will he to-morrow night
Pursue her; and for this intelligence
If I have thanks, it is a dear expense:
But herein mean I to enrich my pain,
To have his sight thither and back again.