Love's Labour's Lost (version 2) - Audiolibro Gratis

000 ACT IV.

Scene I. The same. Lysander, Demetrius, Helena, and Hermia lying asleep.

MSND IV. 1 Enter Titania and Bottom; Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseed, and other Fairies attending; Oberon behind unseen.

Tita. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed,

While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,

And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head,

And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.

005 Bot. Where’s Peaseblossom?

Peas. Ready.

007 Bot. Scratch my head, Peaseblossom. Where’s Mounsieur Cobweb?

Cob. Ready.

010 Bot. Mounsieur Cobweb, good mounsieur, get you your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and, good mounsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, mounsieur; and, good mounsieur, have a care the honey-bag 015 break not; I would be loth to have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior. Where’s Mounsieur Mustardseed.

Mus. Ready.

018 Bot. Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good mounsieur.

020 Mus. What’s your will?

021 Bot. Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery 022 Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber’s, mounsieur; for 023 methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face; and I am 024 such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.

025 Tita. What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love?

026 Bot. I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let’s 027 have the tongs and the bones.

Tita. Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat.

Bot. Truly, a peck of provender: I could munch your 030 good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.

032 Tita. I have a venturous fairy that shall seek

033 The squirrel’s hoard, and fetch thee new nuts.

Bot. I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. 035 But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me: I have an exposition of sleep come upon me.

Tita. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms.

038 Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away. [Exeunt Fairies.

039 So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle

040 Gently entwist; the female ivy so

Enrings the barky fingers of the elm.

O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee! [They sleep.

Enter Puck.

Obe. [Advancing] Welcome, good Robin. See’st thou this sweet sight?

Her dotage now I do begin to pity:

045 For, meeting her of late behind the wood,

046 Seeking sweet favours for this hateful fool,

I did upbraid her, and fall out with her;

For she his hairy temples then had rounded

With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers;

050 And that same dew, which sometime on the buds

Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls,

052 Stood now within the pretty flowerets’ eyes,

Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail.

When I had at my pleasure taunted her,

055 And she in mild terms begg’d my patience,

I then did ask of her her changeling child;

057 Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent

To bear him to my bower in fairy land.

And now I have the boy, I will undo

060 This hateful imperfection of her eyes:

And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp

062 From off the head of this Athenian swain;

063 That, he awaking when the other do,

May all to Athens back again repair,

065 And think no more of this night’s accidents,

But as the fierce vexation of a dream.

But first I will release the fairy queen.

068 Be as thou wast wont to be;

See as thou wast wont to see:

070 Dian’s bud o’er Cupid’s flower

Hath such force and blessed power.

Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen.

Tita. My Oberon! what visions have I seen!

Methought I was enamour’d of an ass.

Obe. There lies your love.

Tita.

075 How came these things to pass?

076 O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now!

077 Obe. Silence awhile. Robin, take off this head.

Titania, music call; and strike more dead

079 Than common sleep of all these five the sense.

080 Tita. Music, ho! music, such as charmeth sleep! [Music, still.

081 Puck. Now, when thou wakest, with thine own fool’s eyes peep.

Obe. Sound, music! Come, my queen, take hands with me,

And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.

Now thou and I are new in amity,

085 And will to-morrow midnight solemnly

Dance in Duke Theseus’ house triumphantly,

087 And bless it to all fair prosperity:

088 There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be

Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.

Puck.

090 Fairy king, attend, and mark:

I do hear the morning lark.

Obe.

092 Then, my queen, in silence sad,

093 Trip we after the night’s shade:

We the globe can compass soon,

095 Swifter than the wandering moon.

Tita.

Come, my lord; and in our flight,

Tell me how it came this night,

098 That I sleeping here was found

099 With these mortals on the ground. [Horns winded within. [Exeunt.

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, and train.

100 The. Go, one of you, find out the forester;

For now our observation is perform’d;

And since we have the vaward of the day,

My love shall hear the music of my hounds.

104 Uncouple in the western valley; let them go:

105 Dispatch, I say, and find the forester. [Exit an Attend.

We will, fair queen, up to the mountain’s top,

And mark the musical confusion

Of hounds and echo in conjunction.

Hip. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once,

110 When in a wood of Crete they bay’d the bear

With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear

Such gallant chiding; for, besides the groves,

113 The skies, the fountains, every region near

114 Seem’d all one mutual cry: I never heard

115 So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.

The. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,

So flew’d, so sanded; and their heads are hung

With ears that sweep away the morning dew;

119 Crook-knee’d, and dew-lapp’d like Thessalian bulls;

120 Slow in pursuit, but match’d in mouth like bells,

Each under each. A cry more tuneable

Was never holla’d to, nor cheer’d with horn,

In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly:

Judge when you hear. But, soft! what nymphs are these?

125 Ege. My lord, this is my daughter here asleep;

And this, Lysander; this Demetrius is;

127 This Helena, old Nedar’s Helena:

128 I wonder of their being here together.

The. No doubt they rose up early to observe

130 The rite of May; and, hearing our intent,

Came here in grace of our solemnity.

But speak, Egeus; is not this the day

That Hermia should give answer of her choice?

Ege. It is, my lord.

135 The. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns. [Horns and shout within. Lys., Dem., Hel., and Her., wake and start up.

136 Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past:

Begin these wood-birds but to couple now?

Lys. Pardon, my lord.

The.

I pray you all, stand up.

I know you two are rival enemies:

140 How comes this gentle concord in the world,

141 That hatred is so far from jealousy,

To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity?

Lys. My lord, I shall reply amazedly,

Half sleep, half waking: but as yet, I swear,

145 I cannot truly say how I came here;

But, as I think,—for truly would I speak,

And now I do bethink me, so it is,—

I came with Hermia hither: our intent

149 Was to be gone from Athens, where we might,

150 Without the peril of the Athenian law.

Ege. Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough:

I beg the law, the law, upon his head.

They would have stolen away; they would, Demetrius,

Thereby to have defeated you and me,

155 You of your wife and me of my consent,

Of my consent that she should be your wife.

Dem. My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth,

Of this their purpose hither to this wood;

And I in fury hither follow’d them,

160 Fair Helena in fancy following me.

But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,—

162 But by some power it is,—my love to Hermia,

163 Melted as the snow, seems to me now

As the remembrance of an idle gaud,

165 Which in my childhood I did dote upon;

And all the faith, the virtue of my heart,

The object and the pleasure of mine eye,

Is only Helena. To her, my lord,

169 Was I betroth’d ere I saw Hermia:

170 But, like in sickness, did I loathe this food;

But, as in health, come to my natural taste,

172 Now I do wish it, love it, long for it,

And will for evermore be true to it.

The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met:

175 Of this discourse we more will hear anon.

Egeus, I will overbear your will;

For in the temple, by and by, with us

These couples shall eternally be knit:

And, for the morning now is something worn,

180 Our purposed hunting shall be set aside.

Away with us to Athens! three and three,

We’ll hold a feast in great solemnity.

183 Come, Hippolyta. [Exeunt The., Hip., Ege., and train.

184 Dem. These things seem small and undistinguishable,

185 Like far-off mountains turned into clouds.

Her. Methinks I see these things with parted eye,

When every thing seems double.

Hel.

So methinks:

188 And I have found Demetrius like a jewel,

189 Mine own, and not mine own.

Dem.

Are you sure

190 That we are awake? It seems to me

That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think

The Duke was here, and bid us follow him?

Her. Yea; and my father.

Hel.

And Hippolyta.

194 Lys. And he did bid us follow to the temple.

195 Dem. Why, then, we are awake: let’s follow him;

196 And by the way let us recount our dreams. [Exeunt.

197 Bot. [Awaking] When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer: my next is, ‘Most fair Pyramus.’ Heigh-ho! Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the 200 tinker! Starveling! God’s my life, stolen hence, and left 201 me asleep! I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was: man 203 is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was—there is no man can tell what. Methought I was.—and methought I had,—but man is but a patched 205 fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man’s hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince 210 to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom’s Dream, because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the 212 latter end of a play, before the Duke: peradventure, to make 213 it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death. [Exit.