The fairies sang so sweetly that their queen was soon asleep. Leaving one of their number to watch over her, they dispersed to carry out the various tasks she had set for them. Some were to cure buds that might otherwise rot. Others must hunt down tiny bats, and take their leathery wings to be turned into coats for Titania’s elves. And some were commanded to drive away owls whose hooting might disturb their mistress’s sleep.
The fairies had not been long gone when Oberon came creeping through the trees. He moved so stealthily that the sentry didn’t see him. He bent over the sleeping Titania and squeezed juice from the flowers onto her eyelids.
‘What thou seest when thou dost wake,’ he whispered, ‘do it for thy true love take.’ He stood for a moment, gazing down at her, then left as silently as he’d come.
A short time later, Lysander and Hermia reached that part of the wood. ‘I think we’re a bit lost,’ admitted Lysander. ‘Maybe we should get some sleep, eh? Wait for daylight.’
‘Fine,’ murmured Hermia. ‘Find yourself a spot to lie on – this bank will do for me.’
‘We can both lie on the bank,’ suggested Lysander. ‘Two heads, one pillow.’
‘Uh-uh.’ Hermia shook her head. ‘I’m afraid that’s not a good idea, my love. I need my space.’
So the lovers found their separate beds, said goodnight and were sound asleep when Puck came wandering in their direction, muttering to himself.
‘I see no mortals. No ardent maid, no scornful youth. Wild goose chase if you ask … hey!’ He spotted the lovers. ‘That’s them – must be. See how they lie apart when they might lie entwined.’ He approached Lysander. ‘Misery guts,’ he hissed. ‘Ignorant wuss. I’ll sort you, pal, no danger.’ He squeezed juice onto the lad’s eyelids, cackled to himself, and caught a lift with a breeze that was going his way.
No sooner had Puck left, than Demetrius appeared, running, with Helena stumbling after him.
‘Stop!’ gasped the desperate girl. ‘I can’t run any more.’
‘Get away from me,’ snarled Demetrius. ‘Go home.’
‘You won’t leave me here in the dark, my love?’
‘You better believe it, Helena. I’m off.’ Demetrius ran on, leaving the girl bent over, fighting for breath.
‘I wish,’ she gasped, ‘that I looked like Hermia – had her sparkling eyes. He wouldn’t run from me then. In fact he’d probably…’ She broke off. A short distance away, somebody was lying on the ground. Helena approached cautiously, holding her breath.
‘Lysander!’ She spoke his name aloud, mightily relieved that she was no longer alone. The thought crossed her mind that he might be dead, but then he woke and saw her.
‘Oh, Helena!’ he groaned, scrambling to his feet. ‘Have I told you how deeply I love you – that I’d run through fire for you?’ He glanced wildly all around. ‘Where’s that Demetrius? I’ll kill him.’
‘Why?’ cried Helena. ‘Just because he loves Hermia? Hermia loves only you – can’t you be satisfied with that?’
‘Satisfied?’ scoffed Lysander. ‘With Hermia? Are you having a laugh? I told you, Helena – it’s you I adore.’
Helena shook her head. ‘No, it’s not, Lysander. You ran away with Hermia – defied her father and Theseus. You’re risking death for her sake, so why mock me? It’s bad enough that Demetrius won’t look at me, without you laughing at me as well.’ She backed off. ‘I thought you were more of a gentleman than this, Lysander. I hoped you’d look after me till daylight, but I won’t stay to be made a fool of.’ She hurried away, weeping.
Lysander gazed after Helena, then glanced across to where Hermia lay, still sleeping. ‘She didn’t notice you, Hermia, and from this moment on, neither will I. I’ll follow Helena, the light of my life, and serve her in every way I can.’
As Lysander dashed away into the dark, Hermia woke with a cry. ‘Aaagh! Get this snake off me – get it off!’ She sat up, and the nightmare began to dissolve. She looked over to where Lysander had been sleeping. There was only a patch of flattened grass. ‘Lysander?’ She glanced around, called again. ‘Lysander – can you hear me?’ She set off through the trees. She called and called, receiving no reply. ‘I’ll find him,’ vowed the maid, ‘or else I’ll die.’
Act Three
On her comfortable bank, Titania continued to sleep. She was unaware that six mortals had gathered nearby, intent on rehearsing the play they were going to put on at the wedding of Theseus and Hippolyta. None of them saw the fairy queen, who was visible to mortals only when she chose to be.
‘All here, are we?’ asked Bottom.
‘We are,’ Quince told him, ‘and what a cool spot to rehearse. Look – short grass for a stage, and that hawthorn bush for the wings.’ He looked at his fellow students. ‘We won’t read through – we’ll act out the whole thing, just as it’ll be on the night.’
‘Quince?’ Bottom had his hand up.
‘What?’
‘I can see problems with this particular play, Quince. A lot of people have issues around the use of weapons, right? And I kill myself with a sword. That could offend.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Starveling. ‘I say we leave that bit out.’
Bottom shook his head. ‘No. What we do is, we have a prologue. Something like this: It’s necessary to the story that Pyramus kill himself with a sword. However, both producer and cast wish to make it clear that they deeply deplore the use of weapons against human beings in all circumstances. The swordplay you will witness is for dramatic effect only, and on no account should anybody interpret it as a glorification of terrorism: nor should anybody try it at home.’
Quince nodded. ‘That ought to do it.’ He frowned. What’s up now, Snout?’
‘The lion, Quince. Protected species, you know, lions. They only attack humans if they’re cornered, and here we are slandering ’em by pretending they constitute a threat. Won’t play well with the conservation lobby, I can tell you that.’
‘Another prologue,’ suggested Bottom, ‘to be spoken by Snug himself. It could go like this: For the purpose of the play, we intend to portray the lion as a fearsome beast. In reality, each one of us is acutely aware of the plight of lions in the wild, and a percentage of the proceeds of tonight’s performance will be donated to the World Wildlife Fund. In addition, we wish to assure our patrons that no animal will be harmed in the staging of this play.’
Quince nodded. ‘OK, we’ll include both prologues, but there are a couple of other snags. One is finding a way to represent moonlight when we’ll be doing the thing indoors. This is vital, because the story says Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight. The other is there needs to be a wall. Obviously we can’t drag a wall into Theseus’s mansion if we want to keep our kneecaps, so somebody will have to be Wall.’ He sighed. ‘One of us will probably have to be Moonshine as well, so we’d better get it sorted. Snout, you can double as Pyramus’s father and Wall. Starveling will have to do Thisby’s mother and Moonshine. All right, Pyramus, it’s you to begin.’
As Bottom opened his mouth to speak, Puck arrived on the scene.
‘Hey up!’ exclaimed the elf. ‘Who’re these wurzels, so close to Titania’s bed?’ He was invisible to mortals, so he stayed to eavesdrop. ‘Ah!’ he breathed as Bottom delivered the opening line. ‘It’s a play. I’ll be the audience.’ He grinned. ‘I might even do something, if I get the chance.’
His chance wasn’t long in coming. Bottom had to exit stage and then re-enter. While the actor waited behind the hawthorn bush, Puck cast a spell, which gave him the head of an ass. There was no mirror, so Bottom couldn’t see his ghastly transformation. He re-entered, ready to continue.
Quince took one look and screamed, ‘Look out – aliens have taken him over. Run! Run for your lives!’ The students fled into the trees, leaving poor Bottom with Puck. He couldn’t see the elf, so thought he was alone. ‘What’s up with them?’ he cried aloud. ‘It’s a trick – they’re trying to make me scared.’
Snout came back. He stared at
his friend, aghast. ‘I d-d-don’t understand, Bottom,’ he stammered. ‘Who’s done this to you?’
He ran off again and Quince reappeared.
‘Lord help you, Bottom, you haven’t half changed.’ Then he too fled.
Bottom yelled after them. ‘I know what you’re up to. You’re trying to make an ass of me, aren’t you? Well, it isn’t going to work.’ I’ll stay here, he told himself. I’ll stroll around and sing. I’ll show ’em they can’t scare me.
He started to sing:
‘Love, love changes everything,
Da da daa-da, daa daa dee…’
At the sound of his voice, Titania woke with a start. ‘What – what angel wakes me from my flowery bed?’ she cried.
Bottom, who couldn’t see her, sang on:
‘Doo, doo doo doo dum-di-dum,
Doo di dah dah, doo di dung…’
Enraptured, the fairy queen begged the singer not to stop. ‘Sing it again,’ she moaned. ‘Again. Your voice is as beautiful as your face, as your body.’ She made herself visible to the ass-headed monster, who seemed perfect to her because of the juice on her eyelids. ‘I love you,’ she sighed. ‘Oh, how I love you.’
Bottom goggled at the gorgeous fairy. He couldn’t believe his luck – thought he must be dreaming. She’s one hundred per cent fit, this one, he told himself. I’m well in here and no mistake. The lovely creature was offering him servants, jewels, soft beds to lie on, if he’d only consent to stay with her for ever.
As he stood, spellbound, the smitten Titania summoned her attendants. ‘Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! Mustardseed!’
They appeared at once, and their queen commanded them to lavish on her beloved every possible care. The fairies saw only a mortal with the head of an ass, but Titania was their queen, to be obeyed at once without question.
Bottom sighed with contentment: he’d never felt so chuffed.
In another part of the wood, Oberon paced, impatient for Puck to report back. I wonder if Titania’s awake yet? he fretted, and if so, what sort of creature is she mooning over?
He hadn’t long to wonder. Puck blew in, looking as pleased as Punch.
‘Now then, madcap,’ greeted Oberon. ‘How did it go?’
Puck told him about the students, their rehearsal, and the trick he’d played on Bottom. ‘His mates all freaked when they saw his makeover,’ he laughed. ‘I wish you’d been there – it was classic. And that wasn’t the best bit. The best bit was when the donkey-headed plonker woke Titania with his braying, and she fell bonce over bum in love with him.’
Oberon slapped his knees. ‘Even better than I expected,’ he laughed. ‘And the other mortal – the disdainful lover – you managed to anoint his eyelids with the juice?’
Puck nodded. ‘I did. The scorned maid lay close by – he’s sure to see her first when he wakes up.’
‘Splendid.’ Oberon rubbed his hands together. ‘A fine night’s work, little friend, though I say it myself.’
The pair were still congratulating themselves when Demetrius appeared with Hermia.
‘Sssh,’ hissed Oberon, ‘here’s the man himself!’
Puck shook his head. ‘That’s the maid all right, but it’s a different guy.’
The two mortals were yelling at each other. ‘Why don’t you get off my case?’ cried Demetrius. ‘I love you. Save your anger for your enemy.’
‘You are my enemy,’ screeched Hermia. ‘You killed my precious Lysander.’
The youth shook his head. ‘No, I did not. I haven’t even seen him.’
‘Yes, you have, Demetrius. You must have. He wouldn’t have walked away in the night and left me sleeping.’
The youth shrugged. ‘I haven’t seen him, I tell you. He’s alive as far as I know.’
‘Ha!’ spat Hermia. ‘It’s a waste of time talking to you. I’m off, and if I never set eyes on you again it’ll be too soon.’
She strode away. Demetrius watched her go and shook his head. It was useless trying to reason with her in that mood, and anyway he was shattered. He decided to grab a nap, and lay down.
Oberon looked at the elf. ‘Looks like you fouled up big time, Puck. Juiced the wrong guy. Listen, go find the maid, Helena, quick as you like. Bring her here. Tell her lies if you have to, just get her here. Meanwhile, I’ll juice this lad’s eyes, so she’ll be the first thing they light on when he wakes.’
‘Watch,’ grinned the elf. ‘Now you see me – now you don’t.’
Oberon bent over the sleeping youth and spoke a spell, dribbling juice onto his eyelids.
Presently Puck returned. ‘I found Helena,’ he chirped. ‘She’ll be here in a minute. The guy I juiced by mistake is with her, trying to get her interested.’ He grinned. ‘Can we stay and watch? Lord, what fools these mortals be!’
‘Sssh!’ Oberon pulled the elf aside. ‘Their noise will wake Demetrius.’
‘I know, and he’ll fall for Helena, then she’ll have both guys after her.’ Puck rubbed his hands together. ‘Don’t you just love a really impossible situation?’
Helena appeared looking harrassed, with Lysander at her heels. The youth was pawing her arm, pleading. ‘Why won’t you believe me when I say I love you? Look – I’m crying, for Pete’s sake.’
Helena scoffed. ‘You’re mocking me. You love Hermia, not me.’
‘I thought I loved Hermia,’ protested Lysander. ‘I asked her to elope with me, but I wasn’t thinking straight. She’s nothing compared to you.’
As Puck had hoped, their quarreling woke Demetrius. His eyes fell on Helena.
‘Phooarrh!’ he growled. ‘Where’ve you been all my life, sweetheart? Come here, let me…’
‘Oh yeah,’ sneered Helena. ‘I get it. The two of you are in it together, aren’t you? Let’s make fun of the ugly one. If you were real men, you wouldn’t treat a girl like this.’
The bewitched youths eyed each other.
‘Why are you doing this, Demetrius?’ demanded Lysander. ‘You love Hermia.’ He spread his hands. ‘She and I were eloping, but I’ve gone off the idea, right? I give her to you, and claim Helena for myself.’
‘You’re both wasting your breath,’ grated Helena.
‘Stick to your plan, Lysander,’ spat Demetrius. ‘Run away with Hermia. ‘See – here she comes now. She’s the one for you.’
Hermia approached, distressed. She looked at Lysander. ‘I could hear your voice a mile off,’ she said. ‘But what about our plan? Why did you leave me by myself in the wood?’
‘I had to follow Helena, didn’t I?’ said Lysander.
‘Why?’ asked Hermia. ‘You said you loved me. We were eloping, running off to get married. I didn’t think anything could change your mind about that.’
Lysander scoffed. ‘I hate you, Hermia. Hate you and love Helena. That’s why I left.’
Hermia shook her head. ‘You’re lying, you must be.’
Helena’s bewildered gaze went from Hermia to Lysander to Demetrius. ‘It’s all three of you, isn’t it?’ she cried. ‘You’ve all got together to make a prat out of me.’ She looked at Hermia. ‘We were mates at school,’ she choked. ‘How can you, of all people, turn on me like this?’
Hermia shook her head. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Helena,’ she protested. ‘I don’t want to make a prat out of you – you seem to be making a prat out of me.’
‘I don’t believe you!’ cried Helena. ‘I can see you, you know, the three of you – pulling faces behind my back, winking at one another. Well, I won’t stay to be treated like this – I’m off.’
‘Please, Helena,’ pleaded Lysander. ‘Don’t go – listen to what I’m saying. I love you more than anything in the world.’
‘Yeah, right!’ sneered Helena.
‘Don’t listen to him,’ said Demetrius. ‘It’s me – I’m the one who loves you.’
‘Oh!’ gasped Helena. ‘You’re all being unbelievably cruel. And you,’ she turned on Hermia. ‘You’re worse than the men, you … midget.’
‘Midget?’ Hermia looked at her former friend. ‘That’s so heightist. I bet you’ve been comparing your tallness to mine, haven’t you, you pathetic stick of spaghetti? That’s how you’ve turned them against me. Well…’ She started towards Helena. ‘I may be short, but I can reach high enough to scratch your eyes out!’
Helena backed off. ‘I’ll go, since you all seem determined to continue mocking me with declarations of undying love, which can’t possibly be true for one as plain as me.’
‘Yes, go!’ snarled Hermia.
Puck and Oberon watched as the mortals left: the maids separately, the youths together. ‘Looks like you messed up again,’ said Oberon. ‘Either that, or you do these things on purpose to amuse yourself.’
Puck shook his head. ‘It was a mistake, Oberon. The mortal youths look much the same. I juiced the wrong one, that’s all. Mind you…’ he grinned. ‘I’m not sorry. I like nothing better than screwing up the affairs of mortals.’
‘Yes, well.’ Oberon looked severe. ‘I think those two youths have gone off to fight over Helena, and it’s not funny. Somebody could get hurt or even killed. Listen, I want you to create a fog. A really dense one, so thick they can’t see each other at all. And then I want you to go about, calling out to Demetrius in Lysander’s voice, and to Lysander in Demetrius’s voice.’ He smiled. ‘That way, they’ll strike and strike without harming each other. And when they’ve tired themselves out slashing fog and have gone to sleep, put some of this juice in Lysander’s eyes. It’s the antidote to the love juice. When he wakes, he won’t want Helena any more – he’ll be in love with Hermia again, which is how it ought to be. Meanwhile I’ll find Titania, make her swap the Indian boy for the antidote, so she’ll be free of that ass-headed monstrosity. Though she’s under my spell, I think a part of her knows she’s being made a fool of, and I find myself feeling sorry for her. So … two drops of juice, two pairs of sleeping eyes, and all will be well ’ere the morning sun doth rise.’
A Midsummer Night's Dream Page 2
