Hermia and Lysander were lovers; but Hermia’s father wished her to marry another man, named Demetrius. Now, in Athens, where they lived, there was a wicked law, by which any girl who refused to marry according to her father’s wishes, might be put to death. Hermia’s father was so angry with her for refusing to do as he wished, that he actually brought her before the Duke of Athens to ask that she might be killed, if she still refused to obey him. The Duke gave her four days to think about it, and, at the end of that time, if she still refused to marry Demetrius, she would have to die. Lysander of course was nearly mad with grief, and the best thing to do seemed to him for Hermia to run away to his aunt’s house at a place beyond the reach of that cruel law; and there he would come to her and marry her. But before she started, she told her friend, Helena, what she was going to do. Helena had been Demetrius’ sweetheart long before his marriage with Hermia had been thought of, and being very silly, like all jealous people, she could not see that it was not poor Hermia’s fault that Demetrius wished to marry her instead of his own lady, Helena. She knew that if she told Demetrius that Hermia was going, as she was, to the wood outside Athens, he would follow her, “and I can follow him, and at least I shall see him,” she said to herself. So she went to him, and betrayed her friend’s secret. Now this wood where Lysander was to meet Hermia, and where the other two had decided to follow them, was full of fairies, as most woods are, if one only had the eyes to see them, and in this wood on this night were the King and Queen of the fairies, Oberon and Titania. Now fairies are very wise people, but now and then they can be quite as foolish as mortal folk. Oberon and Titania, who might have been as happy as the days were long, had thrown away all their joy in a foolish quarrel. They never met without saying disagreeable things to each other, and scolded each other so dreadfully that all their little fairy followers, for fear, would creep into acorn cups and hide them there. So, instead of keeping one happy Court and dancing all night through in the moonlight as is fairies’ use, the King with his attendants wandered through one part of the wood, while the Queen with hers kept state in another. And the cause of all this trouble was a little Indian boy whom Titania had taken to be one of her followers. Oberon wanted the child to follow him and be one of his fairy knights; but the Queen would not give him up. On this night, in a mossy moonlit glade, the King and Queen of the fairies met. “Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania,” said the King. “What! jealous, Oberon?” answered the Queen. “You spoil everything with your quarreling. Come, fairies, let us leave him. I am not friends with him now.” “It rests with you to make up the quarrel,” said the King. “Give me that little Indian boy, and I will again be your humble servant and suitor.” “Set your mind at rest,” said the Queen. “Your whole fairy kingdom buys not that boy from me. Come, fairies.” And she and her train rode off down the moonbeams. “Well, go your ways,” said Oberon. “But I’ll be even with you before you leave this wood.” Then Oberon called his favorite fairy, Puck. Puck was the spirit of mischief. He used to slip into the dairies and take the cream away, and get into the churn so that the butter would not come, and turn the beer sour, and lead people out of their way on dark nights and then laugh at them, and tumble people’s stools from under them when they were going to sit down, and upset their hot ale over their chins when they were going to drink. “Now,” said Oberon to this little sprite, “fetch me the flower called Love-in-idleness. The juice of that little purple flower laid on the eyes of those who sleep will make them, when they wake, to love the first thing they see. I will put some of the juice of that flower on my Titania’s eyes, and when she wakes she will love the first thing she sees, were it lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, or meddling monkey, or a busy ape.” While Puck was gone, Demetrius passed through the glade followed by poor Helena, and still she told him how she loved him and reminded him of all his promises, and still he told her that he did not and could not love her, and that his promises were nothing. Oberon was sorry for poor Helena, and when Puck returned with the flower, he bade him follow Demetrius and put some of the juice on his eyes, so that he might love Helena when he woke and looked on her, as much as she loved him. So Puck set off, and wandering through the wood found, not Demetrius, but Lysander, on whose eyes he put the juice; but when Lysander woke, he saw not his own Hermia, but Helena, who was walking through the wood looking for the cruel Demetrius; and directly lie saw her he loved her and left his own lady, under the spell of the purple flower. When Hermia woke she found Lysander gone, and wandered about the wood trying to find him. Puck went back and told Oberon what lie had done, and Oberon soon found that he had made a mistake, and set about looking for Demetrius, and having found him, put some of the juice on his eyes. And the first thing Demetrius saw when he woke was also Helena. So now Demetrius and Lysander were both following her through the wood, and it was Hermia’s turn to follow her lover as Helena had done before. The end of it was that Helena and Hermia began to quarrel, and Demetrius and Lysander went off to fight. Oberon was very sorry to see his kind scheme to help these lovers turn out so badly. So he said to Puck– “These two young men are going to fight. You must overhang the night with drooping fog, and lead them so astray, that one will never find the other. When they are tired out, they will fall asleep. Then drop this other herb on Lysander’s eyes. That will give him his old sight and his old love. Then each man will have the lady who loves him, and they will all think that this has been only a Midsummer Night’s Dream. Then when this is done, all will be well with them.” So Puck went and did as he was told, and when the two had fallen asleep without meeting each other, Puck poured the juice on Lysander’s eyes, and said:– “When thou wakest, Thou takest True delight In the sight Of thy former lady’s eye: Jack shall have Jill; Nought shall go ill.” Meanwhile Oberon found Titania asleep on a bank where grew wild thyme, oxlips, and violets, and woodbine, musk-roses and eglantine. There Titania always slept a part of the night, wrapped in the enameled skin of a snake. Oberon stooped over her and laid the juice on her eyes, saying:– “What thou seest when thou wake, Do it for thy true love take.” Now, it happened that when Titania woke the first thing she saw was a stupid clown, one of a party of players who had come out into the wood to rehearse their play. This clown had met with Puck, who had clapped an ass’s head on his shoulders so that it looked as if it grew there. Directly Titania woke and saw this dreadful monster, she said, “What angel is this? Are you as wise as you are beautiful?” “If I am wise enough to find my way out of this wood, that’s enough for me,” said the foolish clown. “Do not desire to go out of the wood,” said Titania. The spell of the love-juice was on her, and to her the clown seemed the most beautiful and delightful creature on all the earth. “I love you,” she went on. “Come with me, and I will give you fairies to attend on you.” So she called four fairies, whose names were Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, and Mustardseed. “You must attend this gentleman,” said the Queen. “Feed him with apricots and dewberries, purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries. Steal honey-bags for him from the bumble-bees, and with the wings of painted butterflies fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.” “I will,” said one of the fairies, and all the others said, “I will.” “Now, sit down with me,” said the Queen to the clown, “and let me stroke your dear cheeks, and stick musk-roses in your smooth, sleek head, and kiss your fair large ears, my gentle joy.” “Where’s Peaseblossom?” asked the clown with the ass’s head. He did not care much about the Queen’s affection, but he was very proud of having fairies to wait on him. “Ready,” said Peaseblossom. “Scratch my head, Peaseblossom,” said the clown. “Where’s Cobweb?” “Ready,” said Cobweb. “Kill me,” said the clown, “the red bumble-bee on the top of the thistle yonder, and bring me the honey-bag. Where’s Mustardseed?” “Ready,” said Mustardseed. “Oh, I want nothing,” said the clown. “Only just help Cobweb to scratch. I must go to the barber’s, for methinks I am marvelous hairy about the face.” “Would you like anything to eat?” said the fairy Queen. “I should like some good dry oats,” said the clown–for his donkey’s head made him desire donkey’s food–“and some hay to follow.” “Shall some of my fairies fetch you new nuts from the squirrel’s house?” asked the Queen. “I’d rather have a handful or two of good dried peas,” said the clown. “But please don’t let any of your people disturb me; I am going to sleep.” Then said the Queen, “And I will wind thee in my arms.” And so when Oberon came along he found his beautiful Queen lavishing kisses and endearments on a clown with a donkey’s head. And before he released her from the enchantment, he persuaded her to give him the little Indian boy he so much desired to have. Then he took pity on her, and threw some juice of the disenchanting flower on her pretty eyes; and then in a moment she saw plainly the donkey-headed clown she had been loving, and knew how foolish she had been. Oberon took off the ass’s head from the clown, and left him to finish his sleep with his own silly head lying on the thyme and violets. Thus all was made plain and straight again. Oberon and Titania loved each other more than ever. Demetrius thought of no one but Helena, and Helena had never had any thought of anyone but Demetrius. As for Hermia and Lysander, they were as loving a couple as you could meet in a day’s march, even through a fairy wood. So the four mortal lovers went back to Athens and were married; and the fairy King and Queen live happily together in that very wood at this very day. |
A Midsummer Nights Dream
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This is what a story should be. Extremely well written. I wish it was me though.