Scene I

[A wood near Athens]

Enter a Fairy at one door, and Robin Goofellow [Puck]at another.]

PUCK:

How now, spirit! whither wander you?

PUCK:

Hey, spirit! Where are you going?

FAIRY:

Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire,(5)
I do wander every where,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;(10)
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favors,
In those freckles live their savors.
I must go seek some dewdrops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.(15)
Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone.
Our queen and all her elves come here anon.

FAIRY:

Over hill, over dale,
Through bush, through brier,
Over park, over pale,
Through flood, through fire,
I am going everywhere,
Quicker than the moon goes through the sky;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To put dewdrops into her eyes upon the green.
Her tenants are the tall cowslips.
You can see spots in their gold coats;
Those spots are rubies, fairy favors,
Fairy treats live in those freckles;
I have to find some dewdrops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
Farewell, you group of spirits; I have to get going.
Our queen and all her elves are coming here any minute!

PUCK:

The king doth keep his revels here tonight;
Take heed the queen come not within his sight;
For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,(20)
Because that she as her attendant hath
A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king.
She never had so sweet a changeling;
And jealous Oberon would have the child
Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild;(25)
But she perforce withholds the loved boy,
Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy.
And now they never meet in grove or green,
By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen,
But they do square, that all their elves for fear(30)
Creep into acorn cups and hide them there.

PUCK:

The king of Fairies is having a party here tonight;
Watch out so that the Queen doesn’t come anywhere near him.
Oberon is really angry and annoyed,
Because she, just like her attendant, has
A lovely boy, that was stolen from an Indian king;
She has never had so sweet a baby that was stolen.
And jealous Oberon wanted to have that child so that he could be the
Knight of his train, to map out the wild forests.
But she withholds the loved boy for a very good reason,
Crowns the boy with flowers, and makes him the center of her affection.
And now Titania and Oberon can never meet in the grove or on green,
By a clear fountain, or spangled shiny starlight,
But they refuse to settle the issue, so that all their elves
Creep into acorn cups, and hide them there, because they’re so frightened.

FAIRY:

Either I mistake your shape and making quite,
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite
Call'd Robin Goodfellow. Are not you he
That frights the maidens of the villagery,(35)
Skim milk, and sometimes labor in the quern,
And bootless make the breathless housewife churn,
And sometime make the drink to bear no barm,
Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm?
Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck,(40)
You do their work, and they shall have good luck.
Are not you he?

FAIRY:

I might be mistaken, but I think I’ve seen you before,
But I think you are that shrewd and knavish sprite
Called Robin Goodfellow. aren’t you the guy
That scares the maidens of the village;
Skims cream from milk, and sometimes works the churn,
And, bootless, makes the breathless housewife churn even harder;
And sometimes makes the drink so that it doesn’t have a yeasty foam;
Misleads wanderers who are out at night, laughing at their getting lost?
Those that call you Hobgoblin, and sweet Puck,
You do their work, and they shall have good luck. Aren’t you he?

PUCK:

Thou speakest aright:
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
I jest to Oberon, and make him smile,(45)
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal;
And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl
In very likeness of a roasted crab,
And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob,(50)
And on her withered dewlap pour the ale.
The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale,
Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me;
Then slip I from her bum, down topples she,
And ‘tailor’ cries, and falls into a cough;(55)
And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh,
And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear
A merrier hour was never wasted there.
But, room, fairy! here comes Oberon.

PUCK:

You got it!!!;
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
I am jester to Oberon and make him smile, as
When I trick a fat horse that’s been eating beans into
Neighing like a newborn female;
And sometimes, I hide near to the town gossip's beer mug,
Looking like a roasted crab;
And, when the gossip drinks, I bob up, against her lips,
And pour the ale on the withered skin of her neck skin all the way down.
The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale,
Sometimes mistakes me for three-legged stool;
Then I slip down past her backside, she topples down,
And cries, “tailor,” and falls into a cough;
And then the whole group hold their hips and laugh,
And their laughter grows, and sneeze, and swear
A happier party was never wasted there.—
But go, fairy, here comes Oberon.

FAIRY:

And here my mistress. Would that he were gone!(60)

FAIRY:

And I hear my mistress.—I wish that he were gone!

Enter the King of Fairies, [Oberon] at one door, with his train,

and the Queen of Fairies, [Titania] at another, with hers.]

OBERON:

Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.

OBERON:

How unfortunate to meet you by moonlight, proud Titania.

TITANIA:

What, jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip hence;
I have forsworn his bed and company.

TITANIA:

Well, well, jealous Oberon! Fairies, let’s go;
I have sworn not to go to his bed or to keep his company.

OBERON:

Tarry, rash wanton; am not I thy lord?

OBERON:

Hold on there, unthinking and hasty woman. am not I your lord?

TITANIA:

Then I must be thy lady; but I know(65)
When thou hast stolen away from fairy land,
And in the shape of Corin sat all day,
Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love
To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here,
Come from the farthest steep of India?(70)
But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon,
Your buskin'd mistress and your warrior love,
To Theseus must be wedded, and you come
To give their bed joy and prosperity?

TITANIA:

Then I must be your lady; but I also know that,
When you have stolen away from fairy-land,
And, taking the shape of Corin, the shepherd,
You have sat all day, playing on pipes of corn,
And speaking love poems to amorous Phillida.
Why are you here, coming all the way from the mountains of India,
It must be that the bouncing Amazon,
Your mistress dressed in suede and your warrior love,
Must be married to Theseus; and you’re here
To give their wedding night joy and prosperity.

OBERON:

How canst thou thus, for shame, Titania,(75)
Glance at my credit with Hippolyta,
Knowing I know thy love to Theseus?
Didst not thou lead him through the glimmering night
From Perigouna, whom he ravished?
And make him with fair Aegle break his faith,(80)
With Ariadne and Antiopa?

OBERON:

How can you say these things, for shame, Titania,
Give me a little more credit than that with Hippolyta,
Knowing I know all about your love for Theseus?
Didn’t you lead him through the glimmering night
From Perigenia, the girl he had just raped?
And make him break his promise with fair Aegle,
Not to mention with Ariadne and Antiopa?

TITANIA:

These are the forgeries of jealousy;
And never, since the middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,
By paved fountain, or by rushy brook,(85)
Or in the beached margent of the sea,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport.
Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain,
As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea(90)
Contagious fogs; which, falling in the land,
Hath every pelting river made so proud
That they have overborne their continents.
The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain,
The ploughman lost his sweat, and the green corn(95)
Hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard;
The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
And crows are fatted with the murrion flock;
The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud,
And the quaint mazes in the wanton green,(100)
For lack of tread, are undistinguishable.
The human mortals want their winter here;
No night is now with hymn or carol blest;
Therefore the moon, the governess of floods,
Pale in her anger, washes all the air,(105)
That rheumatic diseases do abound.
And thorough this distemperature we see
The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose;
And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown(110)
An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
Is, as in mockery, set. The spring, the summer,
The childing autumn, angry winter, change
Their wonted liveries; and the mazed world,
By their increase, now knows not which is which.(115)
And this same progeny of evils comes
From our debate, from our dissension;
We are their parents and original.

TITANIA:

These are the lies of your jealousy.
And never, since the second-half of the summer,
Whether we meet on hill, in dale, forest, or field,
By paved fountain, or by rushing brook,
Or on the beaches that ring the sea,
To let our ringlets dance in the whistling wind,
But you have disturbed our fun with your snide comments.
Then the winds suck up a sickening fog from the sea,
Calling to us even though we can’t hear them.
These fogs which, falling in the land,
Have made every rough river so high
That they have flooded the continents where they flow.
The ox strains to pull the plow and gets nowhere,
The farmer works for nothing; and the green corn
Rots before it can grow and ripen.
The pen for the sheep stands empty in the drowned field,
And crows get fat feeding on the dead flock;
The field where the men play their games is covered in mud;
And the pretty mazes in the garden,
Are all overgrown because no one walks through them.
The human mortals want their winter here;
Blessed hymns and carols are sung every night—
The moon that controls the flow of the floods,
Pale in her anger, washes all the air,
But there are still many bad diseases.
And throughout this upheaval, we see
The seasons change. ice-cold frosts
Freeze the fresh crimson roses;
And on the old God of Harmony’s chin and icy crown,
Is set a circle of sweet summer buds
Almost in mockery of the frost. The spring, the summer,
The pregnant autumn, and angry winter change
Their usual clothes; and the amazed world,
Now doesn’t know which is which by their apparel.
And this birth of evils of an upside-down world is caused
By our arguments, from our disagreements.
We are their parents and the cause.

OBERON:

Do you amend it, then; it lies in you.
Why should Titania cross her Oberon?(120)
I do but beg a little changeling boy,
To be my henchman.

OBERON:

Then fix it. it’s all up to you!
Why should Titania cross her Oberon?
I’m only asking for a little boy that has been taken by your fairies
To be my personal attendant.

TITANIA:

Set your heart at rest;
The fairy land buys not the child of me.
His mother was a votaress of my order;(125)
And, in the spiced Indian air, by night,
Full often hath she gossip'd by my side;
And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands,
Marking the embarked traders on the flood;
When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive,(130)
And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind;
Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait
Following,—her womb then rich with my young squire,—
Would imitate, and sail upon the land,
To fetch me trifles, and return again,(135)
As from a voyage, rich with merchandise.
But she, being mortal, of that boy did die;
And for her sake do I rear up her boy;
And for her sake I will not part with him.

TITANIA:

Well, don’t worry about that.
The fairies didn’t take the boy for me.
His mother was a devout worshipper of me,
And, in the spiced Indian air, by night,
She often gossiped with me,
And sat with me on the yellow beaches,
Commenting on the trading ships as they set sail on the ocean,
When we laughed to see the sails open up
And get really billowy with the wandering wind,
Which she would imitate, with pretty and with awkward walking —
She was very pregnant with my young squire—
She would go throughout the land,
To fetch me the little things I wanted, and return again,
As the trading ships from a voyage, full of all kinds of things.
But she, because she was mortal, died giving birth to the boy;
And, for her sake, I am raising him,
And, for her sake, I will not part with him.