No Fear Shakespeare
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Get this No Fear to go!
Act 4, Scene 1, Page 9
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And I have found Demetrius like a jewel,
Mine own, and not mine own.
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I won Demetrius so easily, as if he were a precious
diamond I just found lying around. It’s mine because I found it, but I feel like someone else could easily come
and claim it was hers.
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DEMETRIUS
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?
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DEMETRIUS
Are you sure we’re awake? It seems to me like
we’re still sleeping, still dreaming. Do you remember
seeing the duke here? Did he tell us to follow him?
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HERMIA
Yea, and my father.
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HERMIA
Yes, he did. And my father was here too.
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HELENA
And Hippolyta.
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HELENA
And Hippolyta.
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LYSANDER
And he did bid us follow to the temple.
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LYSANDER
And he told us to follow him to the temple.
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DEMETRIUS
Why then, we are awake. Let’s follow him
And by the way let us recount our dreams.
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DEMETRIUS
Well, then, we’re awake. Let’s follow him.
We can tell one another our dreams along the way.
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Exeunt LYSANDER,
DEMETRIUS, HELENA, and
HERMIA
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LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS,
HELENA, and HERMIA
exit. |
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BOTTOM
(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.
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BOTTOM
(waking up) Tell me when my cue
comes, and I’ll say my line. My next cue is
“Most handsome Pyramus.” Hey! Peter Quince?
Flute the bellows-repairman? Snout the handyman? Starveling? My God,
they’ve all run away and left me sleeping here? What a
weird dream I had.—You can’t even describe
such a weird dream. You’d be an ass if you even tried to
explain it. I thought I was—no, nobody can even describe
what I was. I thought I was, I thought I had—but a person
would be an idiot to try to say what I thought I had. No eye has
ever heard, no ear has ever seen, no hand has tasted, or tongue
felt, or heart described what my dream was like. I’ll get
Peter Quince to write this dream down as a ballad.
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