A Midsimmer Nichts Dreme rendered into Scots by John
Scene I: The Palace o Theseus
Enter Theseus, Hippolyta ,an Philostrate wi ithers.
Theseus: Nou, fair Hippolyta oor nuptial oor
Draws on apace. Fower happie days bring in
Anither muin; but och hou slaw
This auld muin wanes! She lingers my desires
Like an auld stepdame or a dowager,
Lang-witherand a young mans siller.
Hippolyta: Fower days will quickly steep themsels in nicht.
Fower nichts will quickly dreme awa the time;
And then the muin lik a siller bow
New-bent in Heiven, sall behauld the nicht
O oor solemnities.
Theseus: Awa, Philostrate,
Steer up the Athenian youth tae merriments,
Wauken the livelie speerits o mirth,
Turn melancholy furth tae funerals;
The peelie-wallie anes isna for oor pomp.
Hippolyta, I wooed ye wi my sword,
An won your luve, daein ye injuries;
But I sall wad ye in anither key,
Wi pomp, wi triumph, an wi revellin.
Enter Egeus an his dochter Hermia, an Lysander, an Demetrius.
Egeus: Happie be Theseus, oor renownit Duke!
Theseus: Thanks, guid Egeus. What is the news wi you?
Egeus: Fou o vexatioun come I here, wi complaynte
Agin my dochter Hermia.
Staun furrit, Demetrius. My nobil lord,
This man has my consent to mairry her.
Staun furth, Lysander. An my gracious Duke
This man has bewitchit the bosom o my bairn
You, aye you, Lysander, has gien her rhymes
An excheyngit t luve-tokens wi her.
Ye hae bi muinlicht at her winnock sung,
Wi whingein voice, verses o seecklie luve,
An stole the impressioun o her fantasie
Wi bracelets o your hair, rings, gauds, conceits,
Mindins, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats, messengers
O strang prevailment in unhardenit youth,
Wi sleekitness ye hae taen my dochters hairt,
Turnit her obedience, the quilk is due tae me,
Tae stubborn harshness. An, my gracious Duke,
Be it sae she winna here afore ye
Consent tae mairry wi Demetrius
I beg the auncient privilege o Athens:
As she is myne, I maun dispose o her,
The quilk sall be tae this gentleman
Or tae her daith, accordin tae oor law
Immediatelie providit in that case.
Theseus: What say ye, Hermia. Be advisit, lassie.
Tae you, yir faither suld be lik a god,
Yin wha composit yir ain beautie; aye an
Tae wha ye are nocht but a form in wax
Bi him imprint an sae within his pouer
Tae leave or tae disfigure.
Demetrius is a worthie man.
Hermia: Sos Lysander.
Theseus: In himsel he is;
But in this, withoot your faithers wish,
The ither maun be held the worthier.
Hermia: I would my faither lookt wi my een.
Theseus: Raither your een maun look wi his guid sense.
Hermia: I dae entreit your Grace tae pardon me,
I kennna bi quilk pouer I am made bauld.
Nor hou it micht concern my modestie,
In sic a presence here tae plead my thochts;
But I beseech your Grace that I maun ken
The worst that micht befaw me in this case
Gin I will nocht mairry yon Demetrius.
Theseus: Either tae dee the daith, or tae gie owre
For aye the society o men.
Sae, bonny Hermia, question your desire;
Tak tent o your youthheid an examine weel yir bluid,
Tae ken gin ye yieldna tae yir faithers choice,
Ye micht wear for aye the black-claith o a nun,
An stey for aye in shady cloisters,
Stey a barren sister aa your life,
Chantin quiet hymns tae the cauld an fruitless muin.
Thrice-blissit they that maister sae their bluid,
Tae undergo sic maiden pilgrimage;
But earthlier happy is the rose distillit,
Than yin that withers on the virgin thorn,
Grows, lives an dees in single blissitness.
Hermia: Sae will I grow, sae leeve, sae dee, my lord,
Afore Ise yield my virgin patent up
Tae his lordship, whas unwantit yoke
My saul consents tae gie nae sovereignity.
Theseus: Tak time tae pause; an bi the next new muin
The sealin day atween my luve an me,
For everlastin bond o fellowship
Upon that day either prepare tae dee
For disobedience tae your faithers will,
Or else tae wad Demetrius, as he would,
Or on Dianas altar tae protest
For aye, austerity an single life.
Demetrius: Gie owre, sweet Hermia; an Lysander yield
Your crazed title tae my certain richt.
Lysander: Ye hae her faithers luve, Demetrius;
Let me hae Hermias: mairry him insteid.
Egeus: Scornfu Lysander! True he has my luve,
An what is mine, my luve sall gie tae him.
She is mine, an aa my richt o her
I gie tae Demetrius.
Lysander: I am, my lord, as weel-born as him,
As weel-appointit; my luve is mair nor his;
My fortunes every wey as fairly rankit
( maybe even better) than Demetrius;
An mair nor aa thir boasts
I am beluvit o bonny Hermia.
What wey suld I nocht prosecute my richt?
Demetrius, Ill say it tae his face,
Made luve tae Nedars dochter, Helena,
An won her saul; an she, sweet lassie, dotes
Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatrie,
On this spottit an inconstant man.
Theseus: I maun confess that I hae heard sae much
An wi Demetrius thocht tae hae spoke ont
But bein ower fou o my ain affairs
I juist forgot. But Demetrius come,
An come Egeus, ye maun gae wi me,
I hae some private learnin for ye baith.
Bonny Hermia, mak shair ye fit yersel
Tae follow your fancies or your faithers will;
Or else the law o Athens gies ye up -
A thing we canna cheynge-
Tae daith or tae a vou o single life.
Come, my Hippolyta. What cheer, my luve?
Demetrius an Egeus, come,
I maun employ ye in some business
Aboot oor waddin, an confer wi ye
On a maitter that concerns yoursels.
Egeus: Wi dutie an desire we follow ye.
Exeunt [ aw bar Lysander an Hermia]
Lysander: Here, lass. Whys your cheek sae pale?
Hou ist the roses there dae fade sae quick?
Hermia: Maist lik for want o rain, I could weel beteem them
frae the tempest o my een.
Lysander: Aye, frae ocht that I hae ever read
Or ocht that I ever heard tell
The coorse o true luve never did rin smooth;
But, either it was different in bluid
Hermia: O cross! Ower high tae be enthrallit tae low!
Lysander: Or else ill-matchit in years
Hermia: O spite! Ower auld tae be engagit tae yin sae young!
Lysander: Or else it stuid upon the choice o freens-
Hermia: O Hell! Tae choose luve bi anithers een!
Lysander: Or if there was a sympathy in choice
War, daith or seeckness did lay siege tae it
Makkin it momentary as a soond,
Quick as a shadda, short as ony dreme,
Quick as the lichtnin in the coilit nicht
That in a flash unfaulds baith heiven an earth,
An afore a man can say, Behaud!
The jaws o derkness dae devour it up:
Sae quick bricht things come tae confusioun.
Hermia: If then true lovers hae ever been crosst
It stands as an edict in destiny;
Sae let us teach oor trial patience,
For it is a customary cross,
As due tae luve as thochts, an dremes, an sighs,
Wishes an tears, puir Fancys followers.
Lysander: Guid coonsel, Hermia, sae hear me nou.
I hae a weedo aunt, a dowager
O muckle fortune an she has nae bairn.
Her hous is seeven mile awa frae Athens
An she respecs me as her anely son.
There, gentil Hermia, I can mairry ye,
An tae yon place the sherp Athenian law
Canna pursue us. Gin ye luve me
Steal furth yir faithers hous the morns nicht
An in the wuid a mile outside the toun
Whaur I met ye yince wi Helena
Tae celebrate the May day morn
Ill wait for ye.
Hermia: My guid Lysander
I sweir til ye bi Cupids strongest bow,
Bi his best arra wi the gowden heid,
Bi the simplicitie o Venuss doos,
Bi yon that knits thegither sauls an prospers luves,
An bi yon fire that burnt the Carthage queen,
When the fause Trojan unner sail was seen,
Bi aa the vous that ever men hae brokk,
In nummer mair nor ever wumman spoke,
In yon same place ye hae appointit me,
The morra trulie will I meet wi ye.
Lysander: Keep promise, luve. Look, here comes Helena.
Hermia: God speed, braw Helena, whaur are ye gaun?
Helena: Braw? Dinna caa me braw.
Demetrius luves your ain beautie mair nor me.
Your een are lik lodestars, an your tungs sweet soun
Mair tunefu than the larks tae a shepherds ear,
When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.
Seeckness is catchin. O, gin looks wis the same,,
I would catch yours, Hermia, afore I go;
My ear would catch your voice, my ee your ee,
My tung would catch your tungs sweet melodie.
Gif the warld was mine, an leavin oot Demetrius,
The rest Id gie, intae you tae be translatit.
O, teach tae me the wey ye luik, an wi what art
Ye swey the motion o Demetriuss hairt!
Hermia: I froun on him yet he luves me still.
Helena: O that your frouns would teach my smiles sic skill.
Hermia: I gie him curses yet he gies me luve.
Helena: O that my prayers sic affectioun moved.
Hermia: The mair I hate, the mair he follaes me.
Helena: The mair I luve, the mair he canna staun the sicht o me.
Hermia: His folly,Helena, is nae faut o mine.
Helena: Nane but your beautie. I wiss that faut was mine.
Hermia: Tak comfort. Nae mair sall he see my face.
Lysander an mysel will flee this place.
Afore the time I did Lysander see
Athens seemed a paradise tae me.
whit graces in my ain luve dwell
That he has turnt a heiven tae a hell?
Lysander: Helen, tae you oor minds we will unfauld.
The morns nicht when the muin can see
Her siller visage in the watery gless
Deckin wi liquid pearl the bladit gress,
A time that lovers flichts duis still conceal,
Throu Athens yetts we hae devisit tae steal.
Hermia: An in the wuid whaur often you an me
On yella primrose beds war wont tae lie
Emptyin oor bosoms o their coonsil sweet,
There my Lysander an mysel sall meet,
An then frae Athens turn oor een
Tae seek new freens an fremit companies.
Fare ye weel, my bonny freen. Pray for us,
An may guid luck gie ye your ain Demetrius.
Keep word, Lysander. We maun stairve oor sicht
O lovers food till the morns maist deep midnicht.
Lysander: That I will, my Hermia. Exit Hermia.
Helen, fareweel. As you on him, Demetrius dote on you.
Helena:Hou happy some owre ither some can be!
Throu Athens I am thocht as fair as she.
But what o that? Demetrius disna think it,
He winna ken what aw but he dae ken,
An still he dotes on bonny Hermias een,
Lik me, admirin aw his qualities.
Things base an vile an shapeless
Luve maun turn tae shape an dignitie.
Luve sees no wi the een but wi the mind,
Thats hou wingit Cupid is paintit blinn,
An luves mind has juist nae taste;
Wingis an nae een, suggest a heedless haste,
Sae luve is said tae be a bairn,
Because in choice he is sae aft beguiled,
Lik daft wee boys playin at their games
Sae the bairn luve is miscryit everywhere.
Afore Demetrius lookt on Hermias een
He hailed doun oaths that he was mine alane.
An when this hail some heat frae Hermia felt,
Sae he dissolvit an the shouers o oaths did melt.
Ill gaun tae tell him o braw Hermias flicht.
Sae tae the wuid hell gaun the morns nicht
An for thir guid words if I hae thanks
It is a price weel peyed.
Sae I mean tae enrich my pain
Tae see him gaun yonner an back again.
Scene II. Quinces hous.
Enter Quince the cairpenter, Snug the jyner, Bottom the wabster,
Flute the bellows mender, Snoot the tinker, an Stairvelin the tailor.
Quince: Is aabody here?
Bottom: Yell hae tae shout them oot yin bi yin, off yon
bit o paper.
Quince: Heres the name o every man thocht fit throu the
haill o Athens, tae tak a pairt in oor play for the Duke an Duchess on their
Bottom: First, guid Peter Quince, tell us whit the plays
aboot: then gies the names o the actors.
Quince: Weel, oor play is The Maist Lamentable Comedie an
Maist Cruel Daith o Pyramus an Thisby.
Bottom: A richt braw bit o wark, by the way, an guid fun tae.
Nou guid Peter Quince, caa furth your actors bi the scroll. Boys, spreid
Quince: Tell us if yere here. Nick Bottom the wabster.
Bottom: Aye ready, my man. Whit bit hae ye got me doon for?
Quince: You, Nick Bottom are doon for tae be Pyramus.
Bottom: Whats he? A lover or a tyrant?
Quince: A lover that kills himsel, maist gallus, for luve.
Bottom: Thatll need a fair bit o greetin tae dae weel.
Tell the audience tae watch themsels. Ill move storms. Ill condole
richt fierce. But Im really guid at tyrants tae,ken. Id be braw at
Hercules, or gie me a bit whaur I can tear a cat in twa:
The ragin rocks
An shiverin shocks
Will brekk the locks
O prison yetts;
An Phibbus car
Will shine frae far
An mak an mar
The foolish fates.
My that wis gran. Nou, tell us the rest. This is like Hercules,
lik a fierce an frichtenin tyrant. A lover is mair condolin.
Quince: Frankie Flute, the bellows mender.
Flute: Here, boss.
Quince: Flute, ye maun be Thisby.
Flute: Whits Thisby? A knight?
Quince: Shes the leddy that Pyramus luves.
Flute: A wumman? Im no playin a wumman. Ive juist
stertit growin a baird.
Quince: It disnae matter. Ye can wear a mask, an speak in a high
Bottom: Here, I can hide my face, I could play Thisby tae.
Ill speak in a monstrous wee voice, Thisny, Thisny! Ah,
Pyramus, my luve sae dear. Your Thisby dear, an leddy dear.
Quince: Naw,naw, you hiv tae be Pyramus. An Flute, youre
Bottom: Aye,right. Gaun on.
Quince: Robin Stairvelin the Tailor.
Stairvelin: Aye, Im here.
Quince: Youre Pyramus faither; Im
Thisbys; Snug the jyner, youre the lion. An I think thats
aabody in their pairt.
Snug: Hae ye got the lions pairt wrote doon yet? It
taks me a while tae learn my lines, ye ken.
Quince: Juist dae it aff the tap o yir heid. Its juist
Bottom: O let me be the lion tae. Ill roar that lood it
wid dae ony mans hairt guid tae hear me. Ill roar that weel the
Dukell say, Let him roar again, let him roar again.
Quince: Naw, yed be murder. Yed frichten the Duchess
an hir leddies an theyd aw stert greetin an then wed aw get hung.
Aabody: They wid hing the haill lot o us.
Bottom: Ill grant ye that, if ye suld frichten the leddies
oot o their wits, they wid hing us aw; but Ill mak my voice roar as
gentlie as a sookin doo; Ill roar lik ony nichtingale.
Quince: Ye can play nae pairt but Pyramus, for Pyramus is a
sweet-faced chiel, as braw a man as ye micht see on a simmers day; a
maist bonny, gentil man
juist lik yoursel.
Bottom; Aye, richt enough. What baird will I play it in?
Quince; Whatever ye want.
Bottom: Ill dae it in either the strae-colourit yin, the
orangey-broun yin, or the purple-dyit yin. Or the French-croon-colour or the
bonny, bonny yellae yin.
Quince: Some o yon French croons hae nae hair on them at aa, sae
ye maun play barefaced. But look, heres your pairts, an I entreit ye,
desire o ye, indeed beg o ye, tae hae them learnt bi the morns nicht.
Meet me i the muinlicht i the palace wuid aboot a mile ootside the toun. There
we maun rehearse, for if we dae it in the toun, folkll see us an ken oor
plans. Ill mak a list o things well need for tae dae oor play. Nou,
mind, dinna let me doun.
Bottom: Well meet an there we will rehearse maist
obscenely an courageously. Tak guid tent; be richt guid. Fareweel.
Quince: At the Dukes Aik we maun meet.
Bottom: The morns nicht.
Scene l. A wuid near Athens
Enter a fairy at yae door an Robin Guidfella (Puck) at the
Puck: Hellaw therrr. Whaur ye aff tae?
Fairy: Ower hill an howe.
Throu bush an brier,
Ower park an pale,
Throu flood an fire,
I wander aawhaur,
Quicker than the muins sphere;
An I serr the Fairy Queen,
An dew her orbis on the green.
The cooslips tall are her bodyguaird:
In their gowd coats spots ye see;
Yons rubies, fairy favours,
An in yon freckles leeve their savours.
I maun gaun tae seek some dewdraps here
An hing a pearl in every cooslips ear.
Fareweel, ye lob o speerits; Im awa
Oor Queen an aa her elvis will suin be here.
Puck: The king keeps his revels here the nicht.
Tak heed the Queen cams naewhaur near his sicht.
For Oberon is richt mad an dour
For she as her attendant has
A bonny boy, stolen frae an Indian king;
She never had sae sweet a changelin.
An jealous Oberon wid hae the bairn
Tae be a knight an stravaig wi him throu aw the wuids an wild
But she withhauds the loved boy
Croons him wi flooers, maks him aa hir joy.
Sae nou they never meet in grove or green
Bi fountain clere or spanglit starlichts sheen
But they faa oot that bad that aw their elvis are feart
An creep intae acorn cups and hide themsels.
Fairy: Either I mistake yir shape an mak
Or else ye are yon shrewd an knavish sprite
Cryit Robin Guidfella. Are you no him
That frichts the lassies o the village,
Skims milk and whyles grinds the corn,
An maks the pechin houswyf kirn awa
For naethin, an maks sometimes the drink tae bear nae froth,
Senns nicht wanderers the wrang wey, lauchin at their hairm?
Them that cryis ye Hobgoblin, or sweet Puck,
Ye dae their wark, an they hae aw the luck.
Are ye no him?
Puck: Aye, yere richt enough.
I am that happy wanderer o the nicht.
I joke wi Oberon an mak him smile
When I a fat an bean-fed horse beguile
Neighin lik a young an frisky foal.
Whyles I coory doun in a gossips bowl
Luikin juist lik a roastit partan,
An when she drinks, agin hir lips I bob
An on her wrunklit dewlap cowp the yill.
The wycest aunty, tellin a dolefu tale,
Sometimes for a nice wee stool mistakes me,
Then slip I frae hir erse, an doun she faas,
Tailor cries, an sterts tae cough
Whyle aa the rest haud their sides an lauch,
An lauch an sweir
A merrier oor was never wastit there.
But here, oot the road. Here comes Oberon.
Fairy: An my mistress.
Enter Oberon the King o the Fairies at the yae door wi his
train, an Titania Queen o the Fairies at the tither wi hers.
Oberon: Ill met bi muinlicht, prood Titania.
Titania: Hah, jealous Oberon! Fairy, awa, I hae forsworn his bed
Oberon: Haud on, ye hasty jaud, am I no your lord?
Titania: Then I maun be yir leddy: but I ken
When ye hae stole awa frae fairy laun
An in the shape o Corin sat aw day,
Wheeplin on pipes o corn, an versin luve
Tae amorous Phillida. Why are ye here,
Come frae the farthest bit o India?
Excep the gallus Amazon.
Your buskined mistress an your warrior luve
Is tae be wad tae Theseus an you come here
Tae wuss their bed joy an prosperity.
Oberon: Shame on ye, Titania
tae say sic things o my credit wi Hippolyta,
when I ken that ye luve Theseus yoursel ?
Did ye no lead him throu the glimmerin nicht
Frae Perigenia that he ravishit?
An mak him wi bonny Aegeles brekk his faith
Wi Ariadne an Antiopa?
Titania: Thirs the forgeries o jalousie;
An never since the stert o midsimmer
Did we foregaither in meeda or in wuid,
Bi pavit fountain, or bi rashy burn,
Or in the beachit margin o the sea,
Tae daunce oor ringlets tae the whustlin wund,
But wi yere brawls ye hae disturbed oor sport.
Set the wunds, pipin tae us in vain,
As in revenge, hae sookt up frae the sea
Contagious haars, which faain in the laun,
Hae every daft wee river made sae prood
That they hae owercam their continents.
Sae the ox has streekit oot his yoke in vain,
The plooman lost his sweit, an the green corn
Has rottit afore he could grow a baird.
The fauld staunns toom i the droonit field
An the craws are fattent wi deid kye.
The boolin green is fillt wi glaur
An the pads amang the green green gress
For lack o tred ye canna see.
Human mortals want their winter here.
Nae nicht is nou wi hymn or carol blisst.
Sae the muin, the governess o floods,
White wi anger, washes aw the air
Till rheumatic diseases dae aboond.
Throu this byordnar wather we see
The seasouns cheynge; hoary-heidit frosts
Faa i the fresh lap o the reid reid rose,
An on auld Winters thin an icy croon
A wreath o sweet-smellin simmer buds
Is set as if in mockery. Spring an Simmer,
The fruitfu Autumn an the angert Winter cheynge
Their normal claes, an the mazit warld
Kens na which is which.
Aa this progeny o evils
Comes frae oor debate, frae oor dissensioun;
We are their parents an original.
Oberon: Weel, sort it oot then. Its your daein
Whit wey suld Titania cross her Oberon?
Aw I want is a wee cheyngelin boy,
To be my ain..
Titania: Set your hairt at rest,
The fairy laun buys nocht the bairn frae me.
His mither was a votress o my order,
An i the spicit Indian air, bi nicht,
Fu often has she blethert bi my side
An sat wi me on Neptunes yella saunns
Watchin the embarkit traders on the flood;
When we hae laucht tae see the sails conceive,
An grow big-bellied wi the wanton wund;
Which she wi bonny soomin gait
Followit, her wame then rich wi my young squire,
Wad imitate, an sail upon the launn
Tae fetch me trifles, an retour again
As frae a voyage, rich wi merchandise.
But she, bein mortal, o that bairn did dee;
An for her sake dae I rear up the boy,
An for her sake I winna pairt wi him.
Oberon: Hou lang within this wuid dae ye intend tae stey?
Titania: Till eftir Theseus waddin-day.
Gin ye will daunce within oor roond
An see oor muinlicht revels, gang wi us;
Gif no, awa ye go, an I will spare your haunts.
Oberon: Gie me the boy an I will gang wi ye.
Titania: No for your fairy kingdom! Fairies awa.
We sall faa oot richt sair if I stey here.
Exit Titania an her train.
Oberon: Gang your weys; yell no leave this grove
Till I torment ye for this injury.
Gentil Puck, come here. Do ye mind
Langsyne I sat on a rocky kyle
An heard a mermaid on a dauphins back
Mak sic sweet an saft a soun
That the coorse an crabbit sea grew ceevil at her sang,
An certain sterns gaed skytin frae their spheres
Tae hear the sea-maids music?
Puck: Aye, I mind.
Oberon: Yon verra time I saw, tho you could nocht,
Fleein atween the cauld muin an the yirth,
Cupid, aw airmit : a certain aim he took
At a bonny virgin thronit bi the wast
An loost his luve-shaft smertly frae his bow
Lik it suld pierce a hunner thoosan hairts;
But I micht see young Cupids fiery shaft
Quenchit i the chaste beamis o the watery muin;
An the queens servant gaed on
In maiden meditatioun, fancy-free.
An yet I markt whaur the bolt o Cupid fell:
It fell upon a wee wee western flooer;
White it was, but nou is purple wi luves wound,
An maidens cry it luve-in-idleness.
Fetch tae me yon flooer, the herb I shawed ye yince,
The juice ot on sleepin een poored doun
Will mak man or wumman madly dote
On the next leevin craitur they behaud
When they wauken up.
Fetch me yon herb, an be ye here again
Afore the leviathan can soom a league.
Puck: Ill pit a girdle roun the yird
In forty meenits.
Oberon: When I hae this juice,
Ill watch Titania when she is asleep
An drap the liquor ot ower her een.
The verra next thing she, wakin, looks upon
Be it lion, bear or wolf or bull,
Or A meddlin puggy,
She will pursue it wi the saul o luve.
An afore I tak this chairm frae aff her sicht,
As I can tak it aff wi anither herb,
Ill mak her gie the boy tae me.
But wha comes here? They canna see me
Sae I will owerhear their ploy.
Enter Demetrius, Helena, follaein ahint.
Demetrius: Look, I dinna luve ye sae pursue me nocht.
Whaur is Lysander, an bonny Hermia?
The yin Ill slachter, the tither slachters me.
Ye tellt me they had stole intae this wuid;
Weel here I am, wooed wiin this wuid,
For I canna tryst wi Hermia.
Awa wi ye, an dinna follae me nae mair.
Helena: Ye draw me, ye hard-hairtit adamant
But yet ye draw nae iron, for my hairt
Is true as steel. Lea your pouer tae draw
An I sall nae mair follae ye.
Demetrius: Dae I entice ye? Dae I lead ye on?
Or, rather, dae I no in plainest truth
Tell ye I dinna an I canna luve ye.
Helena: Oh even juist for that I luve ye mair.
I am your spaniel; an, Demetrius,
The mair ye beat me, the mair Ill fawn on ye.
Yaise me lik your spaniel, spurn me, strike me,
Neglec me, loss me; juist gie me leave,
Unworthy as I am, tae follae ye.
What worser place can I hae in your luve
An yet a place o high respec wi me-
Than tae be yaisit as ye yaise your dug?
Demetrius: Dinna tempt me, for Im seeck o lookin at ye.
Helena: An I am seek when I dinna look on ye.
Demetrius: Ye hae endangerit your ain modestie
Tae lea the ceetie, an gie yoursel
Intae the haunds o yin wha luves ye nocht,
Tae trust the opportunitie o nicht
An the ill coonsel o a desert place
Wi the rich warld o your virginitie.
Helena: Your virtue is my protectioun. Yet
It isna nicht when I can see your face,
Sae I think Im nae in nicht;
Nor duis this wuid lack warlds o companie,
For ye, I think, are aa the warld.
Sae wha could say that I am aa alane
When aa the warld is here tae look on me?
Demetrius: Ill rin an hide i the bushes
An leave ye tae the mercie o the wild baists.
Helena: The wildest hasna sic a hairt as you.
Gang on, rin; the story sall be changed.
Apollo flees, an Daphne hauds the chase;
The doo pusues the griffin; the gentil hind
Maks speed tae catch the teegar; bootless speed
When cowardice pursues, an valour flees.
Demetrius: Im no listenin tae your questiouns. Let me awa!
Or if ye follae me, dinna believe
But I sall wrang ye in the wuid.
Helena: Ay in the kirk an in the toun, the field,
Ye dae me wrang . Fegs, Demetrius!
Your wrangs dae set a scandal on my sex.
We canna fecht for luve lik men micht dae.
We suld be wooed, an werena made tae woo.
Ill follae ye an mak a heiven o a hell
Tae dee upon the haunnd I luve sae weel. Exit
Oberon: Fare thee weel my bonny lass; afore he leaves this grove
Ye ll flee frae him, an he sall seek your luve.
Hae ye the flooer? Walcoum, wanderer.
Puck: Aye, there it is.
Oberon: I pray ye, gie it here.
I ken a bankin whaur the wild thyme blaws
Whaur oxlips an daffin violets grow
Happit ower wi luscious wuidbine
Wi sweit musk roses an wi eglantine.
There sleeps Titania sometime o the nicht,
Lulled in yon flooers wi daunces an delicht;
An there the snake thraws aff her enamelit skin,
A garment wide eneuch tae wrap a fairy in.
An wi the juice o this Ill streek her een
An mak her fu o hatefu fantasy.
Tak ye some ot an seek ye throu this grove.
A sweit Athenian lassie is in luve
Wi a disdainfu youth. Annoint his een:
But dae when the next thing he will see
Micht be the lassie. Ye sall ken this man
Bi the Athenian garmentis he has on.
Dae it wi some care that he maun prove
Mair fond o her than she upon her love:
Then meet me here afore the first crawin o the cock.
Puck: Dinna fear, my lord, your sairvant sall this dae.
Scene II. Anither pairt o the wuid.
Enter Titania, Queen o the Fairies, wi her train.
Titania: Come, gies a roundel an a fairy sang;
Then, for the third pairt o a meenit, awa wi ye.
Some cankers for tae kill amang the musk-rose buds,
Some tae fecht wi bauckie-birds for their leather wings
Tae mak my wee elfs coats, an some tae keep back
Yon screichin hoolet that nichtly hoots an wunners
At oorsels. Sing me tae my sleep
Then awa tae dae your darg, an let me rest.
1st Fairy: Ye spottit snakes wi dooble tung,
Thorny hurcheons, be na seen;
Newts an blinnworms, dae nae wrang,
Come na near oor Fairy Queen.
Chorus: Philomele, wi melodie,
Sing in oor sweet lullaby;
Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby.
Nor spell, nor chairm,
Come oor lovely leddy near;
Sae guidnicht, wi lullaby.
1st Fairy: Weavin wabsters come na here;
Awa ye lang leggit spinners, awa!
Golochs black come na near
Worm, nor snail, dae nae offence
Chorus: Philomele etc etc.
2nd Fairy: Richt, awa! Aa is weel.
Yin abuin staunns sentinel.
Exeunt fairies. Titania sleeps.
Enter Oberon wha squeezes the flooer on Titanias een.
Oberon: Wha ye see when ye awake
Dae it for your true luve take;
Luve an languish for his sake,
Be it lynx, or cat or bear,
Leopard or boar wi bristlit hair,
In your een that sall appear
When ye waken up, it is your dear.
Nou waken up when some vile thing is near. Exit
Enter Lysander an Hermia.
Lysander: My luve, ye faint wi wannerin in the wuid;
An tae tell the truth, I hae lost oor wey.
Lets hae a wee bit rest here , Hermia,
An tarry for the comfort o the day.
Hermia: Sae be it, Lysander. Finnd ye oot a bed;
An agin this bank Ill lay my heid.
Lysander: The yin turf will mak a pillae for us baith,
Yin hairt, yin bed, twa breistis, an the yae troth.
Hermia: Naw, naw, guid Lysander. For my sake, my dear,
Lie farrer off, ye maunna lie sae near.
Lysander: Dinna tak me wrang.
I mean that my hairt tae yours is knit,
Sae that but yin hairt we can mak o it.
Twa breistis cheynit wi yin aith,
Sae then twa bosoms an a single troth.
Then bi your side, nae bed-room me deny
For leein thus, sweet Hermia, I dinna lee.
Hermia: Aye, ye riddle richt weel
An I wad be laith tae say ye lee.
But, gentil freen, for luve an courtesie,
Lie farrer off, in human modestie.
Sic separatioun as micht weel be said
Fits weel a virtuous bachelor an a maid,
Sae keep your distance; an guid nicht sweet freen.
Your luve nere altaer till your sweet life enn!
Lysander: Amen, amen, tae that guid prayer, say I,
An then end life when I end loyalty.
Heres my bed. Sleep gie ye aa his rest.
Hermia: Wi hauf that wish the wishers een bi presst!
Puck: Throu the forest I hae went
But Athenian funnd I nane
On whas een I micht try oot
This flooers force in stirrin luve.
Nicht an silence whas here?
Claes o Atherns he duis wear.
It s the yin my maister said
Despisit the Athenian maid.
An here the maiden sleepin soond
On the damp an dirty grunnd.
Bonny wee saul, she daurna lie
Near this lack-luve, this kill-courtesie.
Churl, upon your een I thraw
Aa the pouer this chairm can schaw.
When ye wauken let luve forbid
Sleep his seat on your eyelid.
Sae wake ye up when I am gane,
For I maun nou tae Oberon. Exit
Enter Demetrius and Helen rinnin.
Helena: Stey, tho ye kill me, sweet Demetrius.
Demetrius: Awa wi ye, an dinna haunt me mair.
Helena: Wid ye leave me derklin? Oh dinna, please.
Demetrius: Stey there, for Im gaun on mysel. Exit
Helena: O, Im pechin sair, wi this fond
The mair my prayer, the less my grace.
Happy is Hermia, whaureer she lies
For she has blissit an attractive een.
Hou cam her een sae bricht? No wi saut tears:
If that was true, my een are mair oft washt nor hers.
Naw, Im as ugsome as a bear;
For baistis that meet me rin awa in fear.
Its nae wunner Demetrius rins awa
an thinks me juist a scunner.
Whit wey did I think my mirror
Made me compare wi Hermias bonny een.
But whas this? Lysander on the grunnd!
Is he deed, or duis he sleep? I see nae bluid, nae wound.
Lysander, if yere no deed, awake!
Lysander : An rin throu fire I will for your sweet sake!
O, bonny Helena! Nature schaws art
That throu yir bosom maks me see your hairt.
Whaur is Demetrius? O hou fit a word
Is yon vile name tae perish on my sword!
Helena: Dinna say that, Lysander;
Altho he luves your Hermia, say nat so.
Hermia still luves you, sae be content.
Lysander: Content wi Hermia! Naw I dae repent
The tedious oors wi her I spent.
No Hermia, but Helena I loo:
Wha widna cheynge a corbie for a doo?
The will o man is bi his reasoun swayed
An reasoun says ye are the worthier maid.
Things growin arena ripe till their seasoun,
Sae I, bein young, till nou no ripe tae reasoun;
An touchin nou the point o human skill,
Reasoun becomes the shirra tae my will,
An leads me tae your een, whaur I can read
Luves stories, screivit doun in luves bricht book.
Helena: Whit wey wis I tae this keen mockerie born?
When at your haunns did I deserve this scorn?
Ist no enough, ist no enough, young man,
That I never did, nor never can
Deserve a sweet look frae Demetrius ee
But ye maun flout my insufficiency?
Guidsakes, ye dae me wrang, in truth ye dae
In sic disdainfu manner me to woo.
But fare ye weel; I maun confess
I thocht ye lord o mair true gentilness.
O that a leddy bi yin man refused
Suld bi anither be sae sair abused.
Lysander: She sees na Hermia. Hermia, juist you sleep there;
An dinna come Lysander near!
For juist as ower muckle o the sweetest things
The deepest loathin tae the stomach brings,
Or as the heresies that men dae leave,
Are hatit maist bi them they did deceive,:
So my surfeit, an my heresie,
Of aa be hatit, but the maist bi me.
Hermia (wakenin) Help me, Lysander, help me. Dae your best
Tae pluck this crawlin serpent frae my breist !
Och, what a dream was here!
Lysander, look, hou I trummle wi fear.
I thocht a serpent ate my hairt awa
An you sat smiling at his cruel prey.
Lysander! Whaur are ye?
What, oot o hearin? Gane ? Nau soun? Nae word?
Whaur are ye? Speak, an if ye hear;
Speak in the name o luve; I swoon geynear wi fear.
Naw? Then I jalouse ye are na near
Either daith or you yirsel Ill finnd immediatelie!
Exit. Titania remains lying asleep.
Scene l. The wuid. Titania lies sleepin.
Enter the clowns: Peter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snoot an
Bottom: Are we aa here?
Quince: Aye, aye; an heres a richt guid bit for oor
rehearsal. This green bit here will be oor stage, this hawthorn bush oor tirin
hous, an we maun dae it juist lik well dae it for the Duke.
Bottom: Peter Quince?
Quince: Aye, what ist, Bottom my man?
Bottom: Theres things in yon comedy o Pyramus an Thisby
thatll juist no dae. First, Pyramus maun draw a sword tae kill his sel,
an the weemen canna abide that. Whit dye say tae that?
Snoot: Aye, theyll be richt feart.
Stairvelin: Maybe we suld leave the killin oot.
Bottom: Naw,naw. I hae an idea. Write me a prologue, and let the
prologue mak oot that we will dae nae hairm wi oor swords, an that Pyramus
isnae really killt; an ye micht as weel juist tell them thatIm no really
Pyramus, but Bottom the wabster. Thatll stop them bein feart.
Quince: Aye,well hae sic a prologue, an itll be in
echt an six.
Bottom: Naw,na, mak it twa mair: echt an echt.
Snoot: Will the leddies no be feart o the lion?
Staivelin: Aye, they will that. Im tellin ye.
Bottom: Maisters ye need tae think aboot this. Tae bring in
Guidsakes- a lion amang leddies is a maist awfy thing. For theres
nae mair fearful wild bird than your lion alive the day. Well need tae
think aboot that.
Snoot: Anither prologue maun say hes no really a lion.
Bottom: Yell have tae say wha he is, an half his
facell have tae be seen throu the lions neck, an hell have
tae say somethin lik Leddies or Fair Leddies, I wid juist
like for tae say
or I wid ask ye, or I wid entreat ye, no tae be feart.
For Im no a real lion. Im juit lik ither men. Then he can
even tell them wha he is, Snug the jyner.
Quince: Aye, well dae that. But theres twa hard
things we hiv tae dae; tae bring the muinlicht intae a chaummer, for Pyramus
anThisby meet bi muinlicht ye mind.
Snoot: Duis the muin shine the nicht we dae wir play?
Bottom: A calendar, a calendar! Look i the almanac; finnd oot
when the muin is shinin.
Quince: Aye, it duis shine that nicht.
Bottom: Weel, juist leave the curtains open an the muinll
shine richt in.
Quince: Aye, or somdyll have tae come in wi a bush o
thorns an a lantern an say hes suppost tae be the man in the muin, or
that he is kiddin on tae be muinlicht. But theres anither thing; we maun
hae a waa in the Dukes gret chaummer for Pyramus an Thisby, it says in
the story, talk throu a hole in the waa. A wee chink.
Snoot: Oh, ye couldnae bring in a waa. What dae you think,
Bottom: Somedyll have tae be the waa. Gie him some
plaister or loam or roughcast aboot him, tae schaw that hes a waa, an he
can haud his fingers lik this, an Pyramus an Thisby can whisper throu that wee
Quince: If thats it then aw is weel. Come on, lets
aw sit doun an rehearse oor pairts. Pyramus, you stert. When you hae said your
bit, gang intae yon bush, an the rest o yese dae the same when its your
Puck: Oh ho, whit gallus numpties hae we here
Sae near the creddle o the Fairy Queen?
Whit, theyre rehearsin a play! Ill juist hae a wee
Maybe dae a wee bit o actin tae
Quince: Speak, Pyramus. Thisby come oot whaur we can see ye.
Pyramus/Bottom: Thisby, the flouers of odious savours sweet -
Quince: Odours, odours.
Pyramus: - odours savours sweet;
Sae has yir braith, my dearest Thisby dear.
But herk, a voice! Stey you but here awhile,
An by an by I will tae ye appear. Exit
Puck: An orra Pyramus than eer played here. Exit
Thisby/Flute: Ist me tae speak nou?
Quince: Aye. Hes juist went awa tae see a noise that he
heard, then hell come back again.
Thisby: Maist radiant Pyramus, maist lily-white of hue,
Of colour lik the reid rose on the bonny brier,
Maist brisky youth an maist lovely Jew,
As true as truest horse, that yet wid never tire,
Ill meet ye Pyramus at Ninnys tomb.
Quince: Ninus tomb, man. But ye dinna say that
yet. Ye say that tae Pyramus when
he comes back. An dinna say aa your pairts at yince. Wait for
your cues. Pyramus, come on. Your cues past. It was never
Thisby: O true as truest horse, that yet would never
Re-enter Puck, an Bottom wi a cuddys heid.
Pyramus: If I wis fair, Thisby, Im yours alane.
Quince: In the name o the wee man! Oh naw, were hauntit.
Flee, maisters! Flee! Help!
Exeunt aa the clowns bar Bottom.
Puck: Ill follae ye. I lead ye a daunce
Throu bog, throu bush, throu brier
Sometimes Ill be a horse, sometimes a dug.
A hog, a heidless bear, a fire.
Ill neigh an bark an grunt an roar an burn
Lik horse, dug, hog, bear, fire at every turn. Exit
Bottom: What are they aa rinnin awa fir? Its no funny.
Its makkin me feart.
Snoot: O, Bottom yere sair cheynged! Whits yon I
see? Whits happent tae yir heid
Bottom: Whit dye see? Yir ain daft cuddys heid,
Quince: Bliss ye, Bottom! Bliss ye! Ye are translatit.
Bottom: I ken whit theyre up tae. They want tae mak an
erse o me, an frichten me. But Im no movin frae this place, whatever they
dae. Ill walk up an doun here, an Ill sing, sae they can hear
Im no feart. Sings
The oosel cock sae black o hue
Wi orange-yella bill
The mavis wi her note sae true
The wren wi her wee quill
Titania (wakenin): Whit angel wakes me frae my flooery bed?
Bottom: The finch, the speug, an the laverock
The plain sang o the gowk sae grey
Whas notis fu mony a man duis mark,
An daurs na answer nay
For wha wid be sae daft as sing back tae it? Wha wid argy wi a
Titania: I pray ye, gentil mortal, sing again.
My lugs is much enamorit o yir note.
Sae are my een enthrallit tae yir shape.
An your fair virtus force duis move me,
On the first view, tae sweer I am in luve wi ye.
Bottom: Mistress, I dinna think ye hae ony reasoun for that.
Mind you, reasoun an luve dinna gang thegither nouadays; mairs the peetie
that some guid nychburris wadna mak them freens. Thats a guid yin, eh?
Titania: O ye are as wise as ye are braw.
Bottom: Naw, no really, but if I hae the wit tae get oot o this
wuid I hae enough wisdom as I need.
Titania : Oot o this wuid dinna desire tae go.
Ye sall stey here, whether ye want or no.
I am a speerit o nae common kind.
The simmer itsel aye waits on me.
An I love ye sairly. Sae gang wi me.
I will gie ye fairies tae attend on ye.
An they will fetch ye jewels frae the deep,
An sing, while you on pressit flouers sleep,
An I will purge your mortal grossness so
Sae you lik a lichtsome speerit go
Peaseblossom! Cobwab! Moth! And Mustardseed!
Enter fower fairies.
Cobwab: An me.
Moth: An me.
Mustardseed. Me tae.
Aa: What are we tae dae?
Titania: Be richt kind and courteous tae this gentilman;
Hop in his walks an gambol in his een.
Feed him wi apricots an dewberries,
Wi purpie grapes , green figs, an mulberries.
Steal the honeybags frae the bummle bees
An for nichtime tapers crop their waxen thies,
An licht them at the fiery glowworms ees,
Tae hae my luve tae bed an tae arise.
An pluck the wings frae paintit butterflees,
Tae fan the moonbeams frae his sleepin ees.
Nod ye tae him, elvis, an dae him coortesies.
Peaseblossom: Hail, mortal.
Bottom: I cry on your worships mercie, richt hairtily; I
beg your worships name.
Bottom: Well need tae be better acquent, Maister Cobwab:
Gin I cut my finger, Ill gie ye a shout. An your name, honest gentilman?
Bottom: I pray ye commen me tae Mistress Squash, your mither, an
tae Maister Peascod, your faither. Ill need tae be better acquent wi you
tae. An your name , sir?
Bottom: Guid Maister Mustardseed, I ken your patience weel. Yon
cowardlie, muckle ox-beef his etten mony a gentilman o your hous. Theres
mony a yin o your faimily has made my een watter afore nou. We maun be mair
acquent, Guid Maister Mustardseed.
Titania: Come, wait on him; tak him tae my bower.
The muin looks wi a gey watery ee;
An when she greets, greets every bonny flouer,
Lamentin some enforcit chastity.
Tie ye up my lovers tung an bring him silently.
Exit Titania wi Bottom an the Fairies.
Scene II. Anither bit o the wuid.
Enter Oberon, an Puck.
Oberon: I wunner gin Titania has wakent up;
An what it was that next cam tae her ee,
That she maun dote on in extremitie.
Heres my messenger. Hullaw, mad speerit!
Whit nicht-madness gauns on in this begowkit grove?
Puck: My mistress wi a monster is in luve.
Richt near tae her privat an consecratit bower,
While she was in her dull an sleepin oor,
A bunch o tinks, baw-heidit jyners an the lik,
Wha wark for breid doun the Athenian mercat,
Were there thegither tae rehearse a play,
Intendit for gret Theseus nuptial day.
The biggest baw-heid o them aa,
The yin that wis playin Pyramus,
Desertit his position, an gaed intae a wheen bushes.
Thats whaur I cam in.
I gied him a cuddys heid in place o his ain.
Syne, Thisby needs an answer
Sae oot my mannie comes. When they saw him
They flew awa lik wild geese that see the fowlers gun
Or reid-heidit choughs that screich an caaw
When they hear the gun, flee up an
Madly sweep the sky.
Sae at their sicht, awa the ithers flee awa.
An at oor stamp, they aa fell ower yin anither,
Shoutin Murder, an cyin on help frae Athens.
Their senses waik, tint wi their fears sae strong,
Made senseless things begin tae dae them wrang.
For briers, an thorns at their claes dae snatch,
Some sleeves, some hats, frae yielders aa things catch.
I led them on in this distractit fear
An left sweet Pyramus translatit there.
When in that moment , sae it cam tae pass,
Titania waked an strechtaway loved an ass.
Oberon: Oh, ho, this is better than I could devise
But hae ye festent yit the Athenians ees
Wi the love juice, as I garrd ye dae?
Puck: I funnd him sleepin thats duin tae-
An the Athenian wumman bi his side;
Sae when he woke up, she maun be eyed.
Enter Demetrius an Hermia.
Oberon: Here, hide yoursel. This is the same Athenian.
Puck: This the wumman, but no the man.
Demetrius: O why miscaa the yin that loves ye sae?
Lay braith sae bitter on your bitter foe.
Hermia: Ive no stertit yet. Im juist gaun tae get
For you hae gien me cause tae curse,
If you hae killt Lysander in his sleep,
Bein ower your shuin in bluid, plunge in the deep
An kill me tae.
The sun was nae sae true untae the day
As he tae me. Would he hae stole awa
Frae sleepin Hermia? Ill believe as suin
This haill warld micht be bored , an that the muin
Micht throu the middle creep, an sae displease
Her brithers noontide wi the Antipodes.
It canna be but ye hae murdert him,
Ye look lik a murderer; sae deid, sae grim.
Demetrius: Sae should the mudert look, an sae should I,
Piercit throu the hairt wi your stern crueltie.
Yet you the murderer, look as bricht an clere,
As yonder Venus in her glimmerin sphere.
Hermia: Whats that tae my Lysander? Whaur is he?
Ah, guid Demetrius, gie him tae me.
Demetrius: Id rather gie his carcase tae my dugs.
Hermia: Oot, ye dug! Ye cur! Ye drive me past the boonds
O maidens patience. Hae ye killt him then?
O for yince speak true. Tell true, juist for my sake.
Ye widnae hae went near him if he was awake.
Did ye kill him when he was asleep? O that wis brave an braw.
Juist lik an adder or a worm.
An adder did it; for wi doobler tung
Nor yours, ye serpent, never adder stung.
Demetrius: Ye spenn your passioun on a mistaen mood.
Im no guilty o Lysanders bluid.
Nor is he deid as far as I can tell.
Hermia: I pray ye then, tell me he is weel.
Demetrius: Anif I could, what wid ye gie me then?
Hermia: A privilege, never tae see me mair.
And frae your hatit presence pairt I so.
See me nae mair, whether he be deid or no. Exit.
Demetrius: Theres nae follaein her in this fierce vein.
Here, thairfor, for a while, I will remain..
Sae sorrows heaviness duis heavier grow
For debt that bankrupt sleep duis sorrow owe.
Which nou in some slicht meisure itll pey
If for his tender here I make some stey.
Lies doun an sleeps.
Oberon: What hae ye duin? Youve mistaen quite
An laid the luve juice on some trueluves sicht.
O your mistake something must ensue:
Some true luve turnt, an no a fause turnt true.
Puck: Then fate owerrules, that, yin man haudin troth,
A million fail, brekkin oath on oath.
Oberon: Aboot the wuid gang swifter nor the wind
An Helena o Athens look ye finnd.
Aw fancy-seeck she is an pale o cheer,
Wi seichs o luve that costs her fresh bluid dear:
Bi some illusioun see ye bring her here.
Ill chairm his een till when she duis appear.
Puck: Im gaun, Im gaun. Look hou quick Im awa
Quicker nor an arra frae a Tartars bow. Exit
Oberon: Flooer o this purpie dye,
Hit wi Cupids airchery,
Sink in aipple o his ee
When his luve he duis espy,
Let her shine as gloriouslie
As the Venus o the shy.
When ye waken, if she be by,
Beg o her for remedie.
Puck: Captain o oor fairy band,
Helena is here at haunn;
An the youth mistaen bi me
Pleadin for a luvers fee.
Wull we their daft ploys staunn an see?
Losh, whit fools thir mortals be!
Oberon: Staunn aside. The noise they mak
Will cause Demetrius tae awake.
Puck: Then will twa at yince woo yin.
That maun be guid sport alane.
An they things dae best please me
That faa oot maist preposterouslie.
Enter Lysander and Helena.
Lysander: How wid ye think that I wid woo in scorn?
Scorn an derisioun never come in tears.
Look, when I vou, I weep; an vous sae born
In their nativitie aw truth appearis.
How can thir things in me seem scorn tae you,
Cairryin the badge o faith, tae prove them true?
Helena: Ye grow mair an mair sleekit
When truth kills truth, O hellish-holy fray
Weigh oath wi oath, an ye will naethin weigh, aith wi aith
Your vous tae her an me, pit in twa scales,
Will weigh the same, an baith as licht as tales.
Lysander: I had tint my reasoun when tae her I swore.
Helena; An ye haena funnd it, nou ye gie her ower.
Lysander: Demetrius luves her, an he luves na you.
Demetrius wakenin : O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!
Tae what, my luve, will I compare your een?
Crystal is mawkit. O how ripe in schaw
Your lips, thon kissin cherries, temptin grow!
That pure congealit white, high Taurus snaw,
Fanned wi the eastern wunnd, turns tae a craw
When you haud up your haunn; O let me kiss
This princess o pure white, this seat o bliss!
Helena: O spite! O hell! I see ye aw are bent
Tae set agin me for your merriment:
Gif ye war ceevil an kent coortesie
Ye wadna dae tae me sic injurie.
Can ye no juist hate me as I ken ye dae,
But ye maun jyne in sauls tae mock me tae?
Gif ye war men, as men ye are in schaw,
Ye wadna yaise a gentil leddy sae;
Tae vou an sweer, an owerpraise my pairts,
When I am shair ye hate me with aa your hairts.
Ye baith are rivals, an luve Hermia;
An nou baith rivals tae mock Helena:
A bonny exploit, a richt manly enterprise,
Tae conjure tears up in a puir maids een
Wi your derisioun! Nane o noble sort
Wad sae offend a virgin, an extort
A puir sauls patience, juist for his ain sport.
Lysander: Ye arena kind, Demetrius. Be na so;
For ye luve Hermia an this ye ken I know.
An here, wi aw guid will, with aw my hairt,
O Hermias luve I yield tae you my pairt;
An yours o Helena tae me bequeath,
That I dae luve, an will until my daith.
Helena: Never did mockers waste mair idle braith.
Demetrius: Lysander, keep your Hermia; Ill hae nane.
If ever I luved her, aw that luve is gane.
My hairt tae her but as guestwise gaed
An nou tae Helen is it hame returned,
There tae remain.
Lysander: Helen, it isna sae.
Demetrius: Dinna ding doun the faith ye dinna ken,
In case it costs ye dearly.
Look whaur your luver comes. Yonner is your dear.
Hermia: Dark nicht, that frae the ee its function taks
The ear mair quick o apprehensioun maks;
Wherein it duis impair the seein sense,
It peys the hearin dooble recompense.
Ye arena bi my ee, Lysander, funnd;
My ears hae brocht me tae your soond.
But why did ye unkindly leave me lik yon?
Lysander: Why should he stey, that luve duis press tae gang?
Hermia: What luve could press Lysander frae my side?
Lysander: Lysanders luve that wadna let him bide,
Bonny Helena, wha mair engilds the nicht
Than aw your fiery orbis, an een o licht.
Why seek ye me? Can ye no see
The hate I bear ye garrd me leave ye sae.
Hermia: Ye speakna as ye think; it canna be.
Helena: Hah, she is yin mair o this conspiracie!
Nou I see I hae conjoint aw three
Tae fashion this fause sport in spite o me.
Hairmfu Hermia! Maist ungratefu maid!
Hae you conspired, hae you wi them contrived
Tae bait me wi this foul derisioun?
In aw the coonsel we twa hae shared,
The sisters vous, the oors that we hae spent,
When we hae chid the hasty-fuitit time
For pairtin us O is it aw forgot?
Aw schuildays, freenship, bairnheid innocence?
We, Hermia, lik twa skeely gods,
Hae, wi oor needles, creatit baith yin flooer,
Baith on the yae sampler, sittin on the yae cushion,
Baith warblin the yae sang, baith i the yae key;
As if oor haunns, oor side, oor voices, an oor minds,
Had been incorporat. Sae we grew thegither,
Lik tae the dooble cherrie, seemin pairtit,
But yet a union in partition;
Twa lovely berries mooldit on the yae stem;
Sae, wi twa seemin bodies, but yin hairt;
Twa o the first, lik coats in heraldrie,
Due but tae yin, an croonit wi yin crest.
An wid ye rent oor auncient luve apairt,
Tae jyne wi men in scornin your puir freen?
It isna freenly, it isna maidenlie,
Oor sex as weel as me, micht blame ye fort,
Tho its me alane that feels the injurie.
Hermia: I am mazit at your passionat wordis
I dinna scorn ye, its ye that scornis me.
Helena: Hae ye no set Lysander as in scorn
Tae follae me an praise my een an face?
An garrd your ither luve, Demetrius
Wha even nou did spurn me wi his fuit,
Tae cry me goddess, nymph, divine an rare,
Precious, celestial? Sae why speaks he lik this
Tae her he hates? An hou duis Lysander
Deny your luve, sae rich within his saul,
An tender me affectioun,
But bi your settin on, bi your consent?
What though I be na sae in grace as you,
Sae hung upon wi luve, sae fortunat
But maist miserable, tae luve, unluvit?
This ye suld peety mair nor despise.
Hermia: I dinna unnerstaun what ye mean bi this.
Helena: Aye right. Giein me kid-on sad looks,
Makkin faces at me when I turn my back;
Winkin at yin anither; keeping the joke gaun
This sport, weel-cairriet, will be chronicled.
Gif ye hae ony peety, grace or mense
Ye widna mak me sic an argument.
But fare ye weel. Its pairtly my ain fault,
Quhilk daith or absence suin will remedy.
Lysander: But stey, gentil Helena; hear my excuse;
My luve, my life, my saul, fair Helena!
Helena: O excellent!
Hermia: Sweet, dinna scorn her sae.
Demetrius: Gin she canna entreat, I can compel.
Lysander: Ye can compel nae mair nor she entreats.
Your threats hae nae mair strength than her waik prayers.
Helen I luve ye; bi my life I dae.
I sweer by that which I will loss for ye,
Tae prove him fause that says I luve ye nocht.
Demetrius: I say I luve ye mair nor he can dae.
Lysander: Weel, withdraw an prove it then!
Demetrius: Come on then!
Hermia: Lysander, whats gaun on?
Lysander: Awa wi ye, Ethiope!
Demetrius: Na, na, hell ettle tae brekk awa; mak oot as if
ye would follae him
But didna gang. Ye are a tame man. Awa wi ye.
Lysander: Get off me, ye cat, ye burr. Vile thing, leave go
Or I will shake ye frae me lik a serpent!
Hermia: Why are ye gane sae rude! Whatna chenyge is this, sweet
Lysander: Your luve! Oot, tawny tartar, oot!
Oot loathit medicine! O hatit potion, oot.
Hermia: Dae ye joke wi me?
Helena: Aye, an so dae you.
Lysander: Demetrius I will keep my word wi ye.
Demetrius: I wish I had your bond, for I can see
A waik bond hauds ye. I canna trust your word.
Lysander: What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her deid?
Altho I hate her, Ill no dae her nae hairm.
Hermia: What, can ye dae me ony mair hairm nor hate?
Hate me! Whit for? O, me! What news, my luve!
Am I no Hermia? Are you no Lysander?
I am as bonny nou as I was afore.
At the stert o the nicht ye luved me; yet this nicht
Ye left me.
Weel, then, ye left me O the gods forbid
In earnest, will I say?
Lysander: Aye, bi my life!
An never did want tae see ye mair,
Sae gie ower your hope, your questions, your doubts;
Be certain, theres naethin truer. Its nae joke
That I dae hate ye, an luve insteid Helena.
Hermia: Oh naw! Ye juggler! Ye canker blossom
Ye thief o luve! What hae ye cam bi nicht
An stole awa my luves hairt frae him?
Helena: Fine, i faith!
Have ye nae modestie, nae maiden shame,
Nae touch o bashfuness? Wid ye tear
Impatient answers frae my gentil tung?
Fie,fie! Ye counterfeit, ye puppet, ye!
Hermia: Puppet? How so? Aye, thats her gemme.
Nou I can see that she has made compare
Atween oor twa statures; she has urged her heicht,
An wi her personage, her richt tall personage,
Her heicht forsooth, she has prevailit wi him.
An are ye grown sae heich i his esteem,
Because I am sae dwarfish an sae laigh?
Hou laigh am I, ye pentit meypole? Speak!
Hou laigh am I? I am no yet sae laigh
That my nails canna rax up tae your een.
Helena: I pray ye though ye mock me, gentilmen,
Dinna let her hurt me. I am nae fechter.
I hae nae gift at aw for shrewishness;
Im juist a lassie in my cowardice.
Dinna let her strike me. Ye micht think that
For she is weeer nor me
That I can match her.
Hermia: Weeer! Listen tae her. There she gauns again.
Helena: Guid Hermia. Dinna be sae bitter wi me.
I aye loved ye, Hermia,
Did ever keep your coonsels, never did ye wrang
Save that, in luve wi Demetrius,
I tellt him o your stealth intae this wuid
He follaed ye; for luve I follaed him.
But he has sent me awa, an threatenit
Tae strike me, tae spurn me, tae kill me.
Sae nou let me quately gaun.
Tae Athens I will tak my folly back,
An follae ye nae furder. Let me gaun.
Ye see hou fond an hou simple I am.
Hermia: Awa ye go. Whas stoppin ye?
Helena: A foolish hairt that I leave behin.
Hermia: What, wi Lysander?
Helena: Wi Demetrius.
Lysander: Dinna be feart. She willna hairm ye, Helena.
Demetrrius: No she will nut, though you tak her pairt.
Helena: O,when shes ragin, shes richt sherp an
She wis a vixen when she gaed tae schuill.
An for aw that shes wee shes fierce.
Hermia: Wee again! Naethin but laich an
How will ye no stop her sayin that?
Juist let me get my haunns on her.
Lysander: Awa ye go, ye dwarf.
Ye wee totty hank o knotgrass weed!
Ye bead! Ye acorn!
Demetrius: Ye are ower officious
In her behalf that scorns your services.
Leave her alane. Dinna speak o Helena;
Dinna tak her pairt; for gif ye dae intend
Tae show even a wee sign o luve tae her
Ye will pey for it.
Lysander: Nou she hauds me not
Follae gin ye daur, tae settle whas richt
O yours or mine, is maist in Helena.
Demetrius: Follae! Naw, Ill gaun wi ye, cheek bi jowl.
Exit Lysander an Demetrius
Hermia: You, ye hussy this is aw your faut.
Naw, yell no gaun back.
Helena: I willna trust ye, I
Nor ony langer stey in your accursit companie.
Your haunns are quicker nor
mine for a fecht,
But my legs are langer for tae rin away.
Hermia: I am mazit, an kenna what tae say.
Exit Helena and Hermia
Oberon: This is aw your faut. Yere either daft or
Ye did it on purpose.
Puck: Believe me, king o sheddas, I mistook.
Ye tellt me I wad ken the man
bi the Athenian claes that he had on.
An sae far blameless proves my enterprise
That I hae nointed an Athenians ees.
An Im richt gled it did sae sort
As aw their janglin I esteem a sport.
Oberon: Ye see thir luvers seek a place tae fecht.
Awa then Robin, owercast the nicht.
The starry lift cover ower anon
Wi dreepin fog , as black as Acheron,
An garr thir angert rivals gang astray
Sae they dinna come each ithers wey.
Lik tae Lysander sometime frame your tung
Then stir Demetrius up tae bitter wrang.
An sometime rail ye lik Demetrius
An frae each ither lead them thus.
Till ower their broos daith-counterfeitin sleep
Wi leaden legs an bauckie wings duis creep.
Syne crush this herb intae Lysanders ee
Whas liquor has this virtuous propertie,
Tae tak frae thence aw error wi his micht
An mak his eyeballs roll wi wonted sicht.
When next they wake, aw this
Will seem juist lik a dreme, a fruitless vision.
An back tae Athens will the luvers wend,
In unions that sall never end.
While I in this affair dae ye employ
Ill tae my Queen an beg her Indian boy.
An then I will her chairmit een release
Frae monsters view an aw will be at peace.
Puck: My fairy lord thir things maun be duin wi haste
For nichts quick dragons cut the cloods maist quick
An yonner shines Auroras sign
At whas approach, ghaists, wannerin here an there
Mairch hame tae kirkyairds: damnit speerits aw,
That in crossroads an floods hae burial,
Already tae their wormy beds are gane.
For fear that day should luik their shames upon,
They themsels exile frae licht,
An must for aye consort wi black-brooed nicht.
Oberon: But we are speerits o anither sort.
I wi the mornins luve hae oft made sport;
An lik a wuidman the groves can treid
Even till the eastern yett, aw fiery-reid,
Openin on Neptune wi bonny blissit bemes,
Turns tae yella gowd his saut green streams.
But come on, mak nae delay.
We maun effect this business afore the day. Exit
Puck: Up an doun, up an doun,
I will lead them up an doun;
I am feared in field an toun;
Goblin, lead them up an doun.
Heres yin the noo.
Lysander: Whaur are ye, prood Demetrius? Speak up the nou.
Puck: Here, ye villain, drawn an ready. Whaur are you?
Lysander: Ill be richt there.
Puck: Follae me tae mair level grunnd. Exit Lysander
Demetrius: Lysander! Speak again!
Ye coward, ye hae rin awa.
Whaur are ye, hidin in some bush?
Puck: Ye coward, are ye braggin tae the stars,
Tellin the bushes yere ready for war,
Yet yell no come oot? Come on, come oot an fecht lik a man
Ye big wean.
Ill whip ye wi a rod. He is defiled
That draws a sword on ye.
Demetrius: Aye, are ye there?
Puck: Juist follae my voice. We arena fechtin here.
Lysander: He gauns afore me an draws me on,
When I come tae whaur he wis, then he is gone.
This villain is mair lichter-heeled nor me,
I follaed quick, but quicker did he flee,
Sae nou Ive fell intae derk, uneven weys
An here will rest me. Lies doun. Oh, hurry gentil day.
If ye juist show yae chink o guid grey licht
Ill finnd Demetrius an revenge this spite. Sleeps
Enter Puck and Demetrius
Puck: Whaur are ye, ye coward? Why wull ye no come oot?
Demetrius: Juist you wait! Gif ye daur, for weel I ken
Ye rin afore me, joukin here an there
For ye daurna staunn an face me.
Whaur are ye nou?
Puck: Here I am.
Demetrius: Dinna mock me, yell pey richt dear for this
If I ever see your face bi daylicht.
Awa wi ye. Im that tired I need tae
Streik oot my length on this cauld bed.
Ill seek ye oot in daylicht.
Helena: O weary nicht, O lang an tedious nicht
Shorten your oors. Shine comforts frae the east
That I micht back tae Athens by daylicht,
Awa frae these that my puir companie detest;
An sleep that sometimes shuts up sorrows ee,
Steal me a while frae my ain companie. Sleeps
Puck: Juist the three? Come yin mair.
Twa o baith kinds maks up fower.
Here she comes, crabbit an sad;
Cupid is a knavish lad,
Thus tae mak puir weemen mad.
Hermia: Never sae weary, never sae in woe
Bedabblit wi the dew an torn wi briers,
I can nae furder crawl, nae furder go.
My legs can keep nae pace wi my desires.
Here I will rest me till the brekk o day.
Heiven shield Lysander if they mean a fray.
Lies doun an sleeps.
Puck: On the grunn
Sleep ye soun.
Tae your ee,
Gentil luver, remedie.
Squeezin the juice in Lysanders ee
See ye take
In the sicht
O your former leddys ee;
An the coutry proverb ken
That every man should tak his ain.,
In your wakin sall be schawn
Jack will hae Jill,
Nocht will gae ill;
The man will hae his mare again, an aw will be weel. Exeunt
Scene l. The wuid. Lysander, Demetrius, Helena, Hermia coorried
Enter Titania, Queen o the Fairies, Bottom, an Fairies, Oberon
the king ahint them.
Titania: Come, sit doun upon this flooery bed,
Sae I can stroke your lovely cheeks,
An stick musk roses in your bonny hair
An kiss your sweet big lugs, my gentil joy.
Bottom: Whaurs Peaseblossom?
Peaseblossom: Aye Ready.
Bottom: Scart my heid, Peaseblossom. Whaurs Moonsoor
Cobwab: Ready tae.
Bottom: Guid mounsoor, tak your weapins in your haunn an kill
A reid-hippit bummle bee frae the tap o a thrissle; an bring me
the honey bag
. Dinna fret ower much daein it, and guid moonsoor watch the
honey bag disna
burst. I widna want ye covert in honey when yere ettlin
tae flee. An whaurs
Mustardseed: Here, Maister.
Bottom: Gies your neive, Moonsoor Mustardseed, never mind
Mustardseed: Whats your will?
Bottom: Naethin, guid moonsoor, but juist tae help Cavalery
Cobwab tae scart. I think I
need tae gaun tae the barbers for Im feelin richt
hairy about the face, ye
ken. An Im sic a tender ass that if my hair itches an
tickles, I hae tae gie it a
Titania: Would ye like tae hear some music, my luve?
Bottom: I hae quite a guid ear for music. Gies the auld
tongs an the banes.
Titania: Or tell me what ye would like tae eat.
Bottom: Dye ken, I could fair go some guid dry oats? Or I
could chow a guid bunnle
o hey. Ye canna beat some guid hey.
Titania: I hae a richt venturesome fairy that will seek
The squirrels hoard, an fetch ye some tasty nits.
Bottom: Id rather hae a moothfu o dryit peas.
But dinna bother the wee fowk, Im gettin richt sleepy.
Titania: Sleep then, an I will wind ye in my airms.
Fairies, awa, awa. Exeunt fairies
Oberon: Haudin forrit Walcome, guid Robin, Dye see this
Her dotage nou I dae begin tae peety.
For, meetin her a wee while ago ahint the wuid,
Seekin sweet favours frae this hatefu fool,
I fell oot wi her.
For she his hairy temples then had set aroon
Wi a croon o fresh an fragrant flooers;
An that same dew that sometimes on the buds
Yeesed tae swell, lik roun an lustrous pearls,
Stuid nou within the denty floorets een,
Lik tears, that did their ain disgrace bewail.
When I had at my pleasure tauntit her
An she in mild termis beggit my patience,
I then did ask o her her cheyngelin bairn
Quhilk strecht she gied me, an her fairy sent
Tae bear him tae my bower in fairy launn.
An nou I hae the boy. I will undae
The hatefu imperfectioun o her ee.
An gentil Puck, tak ye this transformit scalp
Frae aff the heid o this Athenian
That, wakenin up wi aw the rest,
Micht aw tae Athens back again retour,
An think nae mair o this nichts accidents,
But as the fierce vexatioun o a dreme.
But first I will release the Fairy Queen.
Be as ye yeesed tae be;
See as ye yeesed tae see.
Dianas bud owre Cupids flooer,
Has sic force an blissit pouer.
Nou, my Titania, wake, my sweet sweet Queen.
Titania: My Oberon, what veesions I hae seen!
I thocht I was enamorit o a muckle hairy cuddy!
Oberon: Yonner lies your luve.
Titania: Hou cam thir things tae pass?
O, hou my een dae hate him nou/ O whit an awfy lookin scunner.
Oberon: Wheesht. Puck tak aff this heid.
Titania, caa for music. An strike mair deid
Than common sleep o aa thir five the sense.
Titania: Music, ho, music! Sic as chairms sleep.
Puck: Nou when ye wauken, see wi your ain daft een.
Oberon: Music, music! (Music) Come. My Queen,
Tak haunns wi me.
An rock the grunnd whauron thir sleepers be. Dance
Nou you an me are new in amitie
An will the morns midnicht solemnlie
Dance in Duke Theseus hous triumphantlie,
An bliss tae it aw richt prosperitie.
There sall the pairs o faithfu lovers be
Waddit wi Theseus, aw in jollity.
Puck: Fairy King, attend an mark
I can hear the morning lark.
Oberon: Then, my Queen, in silence sad,
Trip we eftir last nichts shade.
We the globe can compass suin
Quicker nor the wannerin muin.
Titania: Come my lord, an in oor flicht,
Tell me hou it cam this nicht
That I sleepin here was funnd
Wi thir mortals on the grunnd.
Wind horn. Enter Theseus an aw his train, wi Hippolyta an Egeus.
Theseus: Awa, yin o ye an finnd oot the wuidman
For nou oor observatioun is performit.
An nou that its the dawin
My luve sall hear the music o my hoonds.
Uncouple i the western glen; let them go.
Awa ye go, an finnd the wuidman.
Exit an attendant.
Well awa, fair Queen, up tae the mountain tap,
An mark the musical confusioun
O hoonds an echo in conjunction
Hippolyta: I was wi Hercules an Cadmus yince
When in a Cretan wuid they bayed a bear
Wi hoonds o Sparta. Never did I hear
Sic gallus soond; for besides the groves,
The skies, the foontains, every regioun near
Seemed aw yin gret big cry. I never heard
Sae musical a discord, sic sweet thunner.
Theseus: My hoonds are bred oot o the Spartan kind,
Sleek an sanny broun, an their heids are hung.
Wi lugs that sweep awa the mornin dew
Crook-kneed an dew-lappit lik Thessalian bulls
Slaw in pursuit, but matcht in mooth lik bells
Every yin different. A pack o dugs wis neer mair tunable
Was never holloed tae, nor cheerit on wi horns
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly,
Judge when ye hear them. But saft! What nymphs are these?
Egeus: My lord, this is my dochter here asleep;
An this Lysander; this Demetrius is;
This Helena, auld Nedars Helena;
I wunner at them bein here thegither.
Theseus: Nae doot they rase up early tae observe
The rite o Mey; an hearin oor intent,
Cam here in grace o oor solemnitie.
But speak, Egeus, is it no the day
That Hermia suld gie answer o her choice?
Egeus: It is, my lord.
Theseus: Gae bid the huntsmen wake them wi their horns.
Shout inbye. They aw stert up. Wind horns.
Guid morra freens . Sanct Valentine is bye;
Will thir wuid birds begin tae couple nou?
Lysander: Pardon, my lord.
Theseus: I pray ye aw staunn up.
I ken ye twa are enemies.
Hou comes this gentil concord in the warld?
That hatred is sae far frae jalousie,
Tae sleep bi hate, an fear nae enmity?
Lysander: My lord, I maun reply amazedly,
Hauf-sleep, hauf-waken; but as yet I sweer
I canna richtly say hou I cam here.
But I think- for I would speak true,
An nou I come tae think ot, sae it is
I cam wi Hermia tae this place. Oor intent
Was tae be gane frae Athens, whaur we micht,
Awa frae the peril o the Athenian law
Egeus: Enough, enough my lord; ye hae enough.
I beg the law, the law, upon his heid.
They wad hae stole awa; they wad, Demetrius
Thereby tae hae deprivit you an me,
You o your wife an me o my consent,
O my consent that she should be your wife.
Demetrius: My lord, fair Helen tellt me o their stealth,
An o their purpose hither in this wuid,
An I in anger follaed them,
Helena, mad wi luve, follaed me.
But my guid lord, I kenna hou-
But bi some pouer it is my luve tae Hermia,
Meltit as the snaw, seems tae me nou
Lik the remembrance o an idle gaud,
That in my bairnheid I did dote upon;
An aw the faith, the virtu o my hairt,,
The object an the pleisure o my ee,
Is only Helena. Tae her my lord,
I was betrothit afore ever I saw Hermia;
But lik a seeckness, did I loathe this food;
Nou in health I hae come tae my natural taste,
Nou I dae wish it, luve it, long for it,
An will for evermair be true to it.
Theseus: Fair lovers, ye are maist fortunately met.
O this discoorse we will hear mair anon.
Egeus, I will owerbear your will,
For in the temple, by an by, wi us
Thir couples will eternally be knit;
And, for the morning nou is sometime worn,
Oor purposed huntin will be set aside.
Awa wi us tae Athens! Three an three,
Well haud a feast in gret solemnitie.
Exeunt Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, an train.
Demetrius: Thir things seem wee an undistinguishable
Lik far-off mountains turnt intae cloods.
Hermia: I think Im seein things wi different een
Whaur everthin seems dooble.
Helena: Its the same wi me
An I hae funnd Demetrius lik a jewel,
My ain an no my ain.
Demetrius: Are ye shair
That were awake? It seems tae me
That yet we sleep, we dreme. Did ye no think
The Duke was here, an bade us follae him?
Hermia: Aye, an my faither.
Helena: An Hippolyta.
Lysander: An he did bid us follae tae the temple.
Demetrius: Weel then, were awake. Lets follae him,
An on the wey let us recoont oor dremes. Exeunt
Bottom (waking): When my cue comes, gies a shout an
Ill answer. The next yins Maist fair Pyramus. Och aye,
Peter Quince? Flute, the bellas mender? Snoot, the tinkie? Stairvelin?
Guidsakes, whaur hae they went, an juist left me here sleepin? Ive had a
richt guid veesion. I hae had a dreme, past the wit o man tae say whit dreme it
wis. A man wid juist look lik an ass gin he ettilt tae expoond this dreme. I
thocht I was theres naebody can say what. I thocht I was- I thocht
I had- but I wid be juist a glaikit fool if I tryit tae explain what I thocht I
had. The ee o man hasna heard, the lug o man hasna seen, mans haunns isna
able tae taste, his tung tae conceive, nor his hairt tae report, whit ma dreme
wis. Ill get Peter Quince taae scrieve a ballat ont. It will be
cawed Bottoms Dreme, for theres nae bottom taet;
an Ill sing it at the hinner-enn o the play, afore the Duke. Maybe
Ill sing it whn Thisby dees.
Scene ll. Athens. Quinces Hous.
Enter Quince, Flute (Thisby), an the rabble (Snoot, Stairvelin)
Quince: Have ye tried his hous? Has he no come hame yet?
Stairvelin: Naebodys heard ocht aboot him. Im tellin
ye, hes been taen awa bi the fairies.
Flute: If he disna come, we canna dae the play, can we?
Quince: Naw. Theres no a man in the haill o Athens could
play Pyramus but him.
Flute: Aye, hes the smertest craftsman in the toun.
Quince: Aye, an the best man tae: he is a very paramour for a
Flute: Paragon. Paragon. A
paramours no a guid thing tae be.
Enter Snug the jyner
Snug: Maisters, the Duke is comin frae the temple an
theres twa,three ither lords an leddies
Tae be mairriet. If wed been able tae dae the play
wed hae been weel peyed.
Flute: O Bottom my auld freen, thats you lost yir pension
nou. He could hae got a tanner a day. He wadna hae got less nor a tanner. The
Duke wad hae gien him saxpence a day for playin Pyramus. Imagine it, saxpence a
Bottom: Her, whits gaun on? Whit wey are ye say
Quince: Bottom! O ya beauty! O happy oor!.
Bottom: Maisters, I could tell ye wunners, but dinna ask me
aboot it; for if I tell ye, Im no a true Athenian. Ill tell ye aw
aboot it, juist the wey it happenit.
Quince: Let us hear, sweet Bottom.
Bottom: No a word oot o me. Aw Im sayin is that the Duke
his feastit. Get yir gear thegither, guid strings tae yir bairds, new ribbons
tae yir gutties, meet up at the Palace; everybody ken their ain bits, for the
lang an the short ot is they want tae hear oor play. Thisby pit on clean
claes, an dinna let the lion cut his nails, for theyll be lik the
lions claws. An, maist dear actors, dinna be eatin onions or garlic, for
oor braith maun be sweet. Then Ive nae doot theyll say it is a
sweet comedy. Nae mair words. Awa! Awa!.
Scene l. Athens, the Palace o Theseus.
Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, an Philostrate, lords an attendants.
Hippolyta: Tis byordnar, my Theseus, that thir lovers talk o.
Theseus: Mair byordnar nor true. I canna believe
Thir antic blethers or daft stories aboot fairies.
Lunatics an lovers hae sic seethin brains,
Sic shapin fantasies, they see
Mair nor cauld reasoun ever sees..
The lunatic, the lover and the makar
Are o imaginatioun aw compact.
Yin sees mair deils nor hell can haud,
That is the madman. The lover, juist as frantic
Sees Helens beauty in an Egyptians broo.
The poets ee in a fine frenzy rollin,
Glances frae heiven tae yirth, frae yirth tae heiven;
An as imaginatioun bodies forth
The form o things unkent, the poets pen
Gies them shape an gies tae airy naethin
A local habitatioun an a name.
Sic tricks has strong imaginatioun,
That, gin it could juist apprehend some joy
It maun comprehend some bringer o that joy.
Or in the nicht, imaginin some fear,
Hou easy is a bush supposed a bear!
Hippolyta: But wi the story o the nicht aw by,
An aw their minds transfigurit thegither
MORE WITNESSETH THAN FANCYS IMAGES ???????
An grows tae something o gret constancie;
Yet byordnar an fou o wonders.
Enter lovers: Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, Helena.
Theseus: Here come the lovers, fou o joy an mirth.
Joy, gentil freens! Joy an fresch dayis o luve
Accompanie your hairts!
Lysander: Mair nor tae us
Wait in your royal walks, your brod, your bed!
Theseus: Come, whit masques an daunces will we hae
Tae wear awa this lang three oors
Eftir oor denner an bedtime?
Whaur is oor yaisual manager o mirth?
What revels are at haunn? Is there nae play,
Tae ease the anguish o a torturin oor?
Philostrate: Here, michty Theseus.
Theseus: Tell us whit diversioun ye hae for this nicht?
What masque, what music? Hou sall we beguile
The lazy time, if no wi some delicht?
Philostrate: There is a brief hou mony ploys are ripe:
Mak choice o quilk your Highness wad see first.
Giein a paper.
Theseus: The battle wi the Centaurs, tae bi sung
Bi an Athenian tae the harp.
Well no hae ony o that. That I hae tellt my luve,
In glorie o my guid freen Hercules.
The Riot o the Drucken Bacchanals,
Teerin the Thracian singer in their ragin.
Thats a gey auld yin, an it was duin
When I last cam frae Thebes, a conqueror.
The thrice three Muses moornin for the daith
O Lear, late deceasit in beggarie.
Thats a kin o satire, keen an critical,
No fittin for a nuptial ceremonie.
A Dreich Brief Scene o Young Pyramus
An his luve Thisby; richt tragical mirth.
Merry an tragical? Dreich an brief?
That is het ice, an richt byordnar snaw.
Hou will we finnd the concord o this discord?
Philostrate: A play there is, my lord, some ten words lang,
The quilk is as brief as ony I hae kent
But its ower lang, my lord, bi aboot ten words,
Quilk maks it dreich. For in the haill play
There isna yin word richt, yin player fitted,
An tragical, my nobil lord, it is.
For Pyramus kills himsel,
An when I saw it rehearsed, I maun confess,
It brocht tears tae my een, but mirrier tears
The passioun o lood lauchter never shed.
Theseus: What are they that play it?
Philostrate: Rouch-haundit men that wark in Athens here,
An never warkit wi their minds till nou;
An nou hae warkit their unwarkit memories
Wi this same play tae celebrate your nuptial.
Theseus: An we will hear it.
Philostrate: Naw, my nobil lord,
Its no for you. I hae heard it aw
An it is naethin, naethin i the warld.
Forbye you can finnd sport in their intents,
Gey streekit oot an learnit wi cruel pain,
Tae dae ye service.
Theseus: I will hear yon play;
For never ocht can be amiss,
When simpleness an duty tender it.
Awa, bring them in; an, leddies, tak ye your places.
Hippolyta: I dinna like tae see puir fowk made fools
Bi tryin ower hard tae dae things they arena practist in.
Theseus: Why, gentil sweet, ye will see nae sic thing.
Hippolyta: He says they canna dae it richt.
Theseus: Then we suld be mair kind, tae gie them thanks for
Oor sport will be tae tak what they mistak;
An what puir duty canna dae, nobil respec
Maun praise the speerit,gif no the merit.
Whaur I hae come, gret scholaris hae purposit
Tae greet me wi forethocht walcoums;
Whaur I hae seen them trummle an look pale,
Stop i the middle o their sentences,
Strangle their practised accent wi their fears,
An, in conclusioun, dumbly hae brokk off,
No peyin me a walcoum. Trust me, seet,
Oot o this silence, yet I pickt a walcoum:
An in the modestie o fearfu duty,
I read as much as frae the rattlin tung
O gallus eloquence.
Luve, therefore, an tung-tyit simplicitie
In least speak maist, tae my knowledge.
Philostrate: Sae please your Grace, the Prologue is ready.
Theseus: Let him enter. The Soun o Trumpets
Enter the Prologue [Quince].
Quince: Gif we offend, it is wae oor guid will.
Ye suld ken we cam no tae offend,
But wi guid will. Tae schaw oor simple skill
That is the simple beginnin o oor end.
Consider, then, we come but in despite.
We dinna come, as mindin tae content ye,
Oor true intent is. Aw for your delicht,
We arena here. That ye suld here repent ye,
The actors are at haunn: an bi their schaw
Ye sall ken aw, that ye hae need tae ken.
Theseus: This yin disna bother about the points.
Lysander: He has rode his prologue lik a rouch clip;
He disna ken hou tae stop. A guid moral, my lord,
It isna enough tae speak, but ye maun speak true.
Hippolyta: Aye, hes played on the prologue lik a wean
playin on a whistle ?
Hes made a soun but no a soun that maks ony sense.
Theseus: His speech was lik a fankelt cheyn; naethin broken, but
aw ower the bit.
Enter Pyramus an Thisby an Waa an Muinlicht an Lion in a
Prologue: Perchance ye mervel at this schaw;
But mervel on, till truth maks aw things plain.
This man is Pyramus, ye micht ken;
This the bonny leddy Thisby.
This man, wi lime an roughcast, is
Waa, yon vile waa that did thir lovers teer apairt
An throu Waas chink, puir sauls, they are content
Tae whisper. Let nae man wunner at this.
This man, wi lantern, dug, an bush o thorn,
Represents Muinlicht; for as ye ken
It was bi muinlicht that thir lovers met
At Ninus tomb, there tae woo yin anither.
This grisly baist is cryit lion,
The trustin Thysby, comin first bi nicht
Did fricht awa,
An as she fled, her mantil she let faa.
The ugsome lion, wi bluidy maw did it stain.
Alang cam Pyramus, sweet youth, an braw,
An funnd his trustin Thisbys mantil slain;
Sae wi blade, his bluidy balmefu blade,
He bravelie, broacht his bylin bluidy breist;
An Thysby, tarryin in mulberry shade,
His dirk she drew an deed. For aw the rest
Let Lion, Muinlicht, Waa, an lovers twae,
Discoorse, while here they dae remain.
Theseus: I wunner if the lion is gaun tae speak.
Demetrius. It wad be nae wunner. Yin lion micht, whaur sae mony
Exit Lion. Thisby an Muinlicht
Waa: In this same interlude it duis befaa
That I, yin Snoot bi name, present a waa;
An sic a waa, as I would hae ye think,
That had in it a howkt-oot hole or chink,,
Throu quilk the lovers, Pyramus an Thisby,
Did whisper often richt secretly.
This loam, this roughcast, an this stane, dae schaw
That I am yon self-same waa; thats the truth,
An this the cranny is, richt an left,
Throu quhilk the lovers is tae whisper.
Theseus: Would ye want lime an hair tae talk better?
Demetrius: Its the smertest parteetion ever I heard
Theseus: Wheesht! Pyramus, draws near the waa.
Pyramus: O grim-lookt nicht! O nicht wi hue sae black!
O nicht, quilk ever art when day is no!
O nicht, O nicht! O, wae, wae, wae.
I fear my Thisbys promise is forgot!
An you, O waa, O sweet, O bonny waa,
That staunns atween her faithers grunnd an mines!
You waa, O waa, O sweet an bonny waa,
Schaw me your chink, tae blink throu wi my een.
Waa hauds up his fingers.
Thanks, coorteous waa. Jove shield ye weel for this!
But what dae I see? Nae Thisby.
O wicked waa, throu wha I see nae bliss!
Cursit be yir stanes for thus deceivin me.
Theseus: I think the talkin waa suld curse him back.
Pyramus: Naw, naw. Ye see, Deceivin me is
Thisbys cue. She has tae come in nou
an I hae tae spy her throu the waa. Juist watch an it will
happen juist the
wey I tellt ye. Yonner she comes nou.
Thisby: O waa, fu often hae ye heard me makkin mane
For pairtin my braw Pyramus an me!
My cherrie lips hae often kisst your stanes,
Your stanes wi lime an hair knit up in ye.
Pyramus: I see a voice; nou Ill tae the chink
Tae spy gif I can hear my Thisbys face.
Thisby: My luve ye are, my luve I think.
Pyramus: Think what ye want, I am yir lover braw;
An lik Limander, I am trusty still.
Thisby: An I lik Helen, till the Fates me kill.
Pyramus: No even Shafalus tae Procrus wis sae true!
Thisby: As Shafalus tae Procrus, me tae you.
Pyramus: O kiss me throu the hole o this vile waa!
Thisby: I kiss the waas hole an no your lips.
Pyramus: Will ye meet me at Ninnys tomb strecht awa?
Thisby: Tide life tide death, Ill come strechtawa.
Exeunt Pryramus and Thisby
Waa: Thus hae I my pairt dischairgit so
An bein duin, thus waa awa duis go. Exit
Theseus: Nou the muin sal help the twa neebours.
Demetrius: That will be nae help when waas themsels can
Listen withoot warnin.
Hippolyta: This is the daftest stuff that ever I hae heard.
Theseus: The best o thir kind is but shaddas; an the worst nae
gin imaginatioun amend them. Gif ye yaise a bit o imaginatioun
Hippolyta: It maun be your imagination then an no theirs.
Theseus: If we imagine nae waur o them than they o themsels,
they maun pass for
excellent men. But look here come twa nobil beastis, a man an a
Enter Lion an Muinlicht
Lion: Lassie, whas gentil hairts dae fear
The weeest monstrous mous that creeps aboot the flair,
Micht nou perchance baith quake an trummle here,
When lion rouch in wildest rage duis roar.
Then ken that I,Snug the jyner, am
A lion fell, nor else nae lions dam;
For gin I suld as lion come in strife
Intae this bit here, twad be peety on my life.
Theseus: A verra gentil beast, an o a guid conscience.
Demetrius: The verra best at a beast, my lord, that ever I saw.
Lysander: Yon lion is a verra tod for his valour.
Theseus: Aye an a verra deuk for his discretioun.
Demetrius: Na, na, my lord, for his valour canna cairry his
discretioun, but a tod can
cairry a deuk..
Theseus: His discretioun canna cairry his valour, for the deuk
disna cairry the tod.
Never mind, lets leave it tae his discretioun an listen
tae the muin.
Muinlicht: This lantren duis the hornit muin present-
Demetrius: He suld hae wore the horns on his heid.
Theseus: Hes nae crescent, ye canna see his horns inside
Muinlicht: This lantren duis the hornit muin present;
Masel the man i the muin dae seem tae be.
Theseus: This is the daftest thing yet.
The man suld be pit in the lantern. Hou else can the man be in
Demetrius: He canna dae that, for the caunnles nearly oot
Hippolyta: Im growin richt tired o this muin. I wish he
Theseus: It appears bi his smaa licht o discretioun, that
hes on the wane. But yet, in
coortesie, in aw reasoun, we maun stey the time.
Lysander: Cairry on, Muin.
Muinlicht: Aw I hae tae say is tae tell yese that the lantren is
the muin, Im the man in
the muin, the thorn bush is a thorn bush, an the dugs ma
Demetrius: They suld aw be in the lantern, for theyre aw
in the muin. But wheesht!
Here comes Thisby.
Thisby: This is auld Ninnys tomb. Whaur is my luve?
Lion: Oh - The lion roars. Thisby runs awa.
Demetrius: Weel-roared ,Lion.
Theseus: Weel-rin, Thisby.
Hippolyta: Weel-shone, Muin. Truly the muin shines wi a richt
The Lion shaks Thisbys manil an exits.
Theseus: Weel-moosed, Lion.
Demetrius: An then cam Pyramus.
Lysander:An sae the Lion vanisht.
Pyramus: Sweet Muin, I thank ye for yir sunny beamis;
I thank ye, Muin, for sheenin nou sae bricht;
For bi yir gracious, gowden, glitterin gleams,
I trust tae tak o truest Thisby sicht,
But stey, O spite!
But merk, puir knight,
Whit dreidfu dool is here!
Een , dae ye see?
Hou can it be?
O denty deuk! O dear!
Yir mantil guid,
What, satined wi bluid!
Approach, ye Furies fell!
O Fates, come, come,
Cut threid an thrum;
Quail, crush,conclude an quell!
Theseus: This passioun an the daith o a guid freen
Wad gang near tae mak a man look sad.
Hippolyta: Curse my hairt, but I peety the man.
Pyramus: O wherefore, Nature, did ye lions frame?
Since lion vile has here deflooered my dear;
Wha is naw, naw wha wis the fairest dame
that ever leeved, that loved, that liked, that lookt
Come, tears, confoond;
Out, sword an wound
The pap o Pyramus;
Aye, yon left pap,
Whaur hairt duis hop. Stabs himsel.
Thus I dee. Thus, thus, thus.
Nou am I deid,
Nou am I fled;
My saul is in the lift
Tung, loss yir licht
Muin, tak yir flicht. exit muinlicht
Nou dee, dee, dee,dee, dee.
Demetrius: Nae die, but an ace for him, for he is yin.
Lysander: less than an ace, man, for he is nocht.
Theseus: Wi the help o a surgeon, he micht yet recover, an yet
micht still prove an
Hippolyta: Hou ist the muin has gane afore
Thisby comes back an finds her lover?
Theseus: She maun find him bi starlicht. Here she comes, an
Her passioun enns the play.
Hippolyta: I hope she isna gang tae talk ower lang aboot sic a
Demetrius: A mote will turn the balance, what yins the
best, him for a man, God save us, her for a wumman, Guid sakes.
Lysander: She has spied him already wi yon sweet een.
Demetrius: An thus she greets, videlicet.
Thisby: Asleep my loo?
Whit, deid, my doo?
O Pyramus arise!
Speak, speak. Are ye sae dumb?
Deid, deid? A tomb
Maun cover yir sweet een
Thir lily lips
This cherrie nose
Thir yella cooslip cheeks. Are gane, are gane,
Lovers mak mane.
His een war green as leeks.
O sisters three,
Come, come tae me,
Wi haunns as pale as milk;
Lay them in gore
Since ye hae shore
Wi shears his threid o silk.
Tung, no a word
Come, trustie sword
Come, blade, my breist imbrue! Stabs hersel.
An fareweel freens
Sae Thisby enns
Theseus; Muinlicht and Lion are left tae bury the deid.
Demetrius: Aye, an the waa tae.
Bottom: Naw,naw, I tell ye, the waa is doun that pairtit their
faithers. Wid ye like for
tae see the epilogue, or hear a Bergomask daunce atween twa o
Theseus: Nae epilogue, I pray ye, for your play needs nae
excuse. Never excuse, for
when the players are aw deid, there need nane be blamit. If he
that had wrote
it had played Pyramus himsel an hung himsel wi Thisbys
gairter, it wad hae
been a grann tragedie; an sae it truly is; an richt weel
dischairgit. But come,
your Bergomask. Let your epilogue alane.
The iron tung o midnicht has tauld twal.
Lovers, tae bed; tis geynear fairy time.
I fear we micht ootsleep the comin morn,
As much as we this nicht hae owerwatcht.
This palpable-gross play has weel beguiled
The heavy gait o nicht. Sweet freens, tae bed.
A fortnicht haud we this solemnitie,
In nichtly revels an new jollity. Exeunt
Enter Puck wi a besom.
Puck: Nou the hungry lion roars,
An the wolf behowls the muin;
While the heavy plooman snores,
Aw wi weary darg forduin.
Nou the wastit brands duis glow,
While the houlet, screichin lood,
Pits the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance o a shrood.
Nou it is the time o nicht
That the graves aw gapin wide
Every yin lets oot his sprite
In the kirkyaird paths tae glide;
An us fairies that dae rin
Bi the triple Hecates team,
Frae the presence o the sun,
Followin derkness lik a dreme,
Nou are frolic. No a mous
Sall disturb this hallowed hous;
Wi besom I am sent afore
Tae sweep the stoor ahin the door.
Enter King and Queen o Fairies wi aw their train.
Oberon: Throu this hous gie glimmerin licht,
Bi the dreid an drowsy fire; deein ???
Every elf an fairy sprite
Hop as licht as bird frae brier;
An this ditty eftir me,
Sing an daunce it trippinlie.
Titania; First rehears your sang bi rote,
Gie each word a warblin note;
Haun in haun wi fairy grace,
Will we sing an bliss this place.
Sang an daunce.
Oberon: Nou until the brekk o day,
Throu this hous each fairy stray.
Tae the best bride-bed will we,
Qhuilk bi us will blissit be,
An the issue there create
Ever sall be fortunate.
Sae sall aw the couples three
Ever true in lovin be;
An the blots o Natures haun
Willna in their issue staun.
Never mole, harelip nor scar,
Nor merk prodigious, sic as are
Despisit in nativitie,
Sall upon their bairnies be.
Wi this field-dew consecrat
Every fairy tak his gait,
An ilka several chaummer bliss,
Throu this palis, wi sweet peace,
An the owner o it blisst
Ever sall in safety rest.
Trip awa; mak nae stey;
Meet me aw bi brekk o day.
Exeunt aw bar Puck.
Puck: Gif we shaddas hae offendit,
Think but this an aw is mendit;
That ye hae but slumbert here
While thir visions did appear.
An this waik an idle theme,
Nae mair yieldin nor a dreme,
Gentils, dinna reprehend;
Gin ye pardon, we will mend.
An, as I am an honest Puck,
Gif we hae unearnit luck,
Nou tae scape the serpents tung,
Well mak amends afore too lang;
Else the Puck a liar caw;
Sae guidnicht untae ye aw.
Gie me your haunns, gif we be freens,
An Robin will restore amends. Exit
© John Burns