A Midsummer Night's Dream

by Robert Swindells

  Act Four

  Puck’s fog was a serious peasouper. Lysander stood with clenched fists, peering into the opaque vapour.

  ‘Demetrius, you creepazoid, where are you?’

  ‘Right here,’ mimicked Puck. ‘You blind idiot.’

  ‘Good – stand still while I rip your head off. Hunnnh! – missed.’

  ‘Yes, ’cause you’re a blind idiot.’

  Some distance off stood the real Demetrius, turning on the spot, lashing out in all directions. ‘Stand still, Lysander, you snivelling coward. I’m only going to ram my fingers up your nose and pull an eyeball down.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Puck as Lysander. ‘Don’t fancy it.’

  ‘Think I care what you fancy?’ roared Demetrius. He lunged at the voice, landing a solid punch on a tree trunk. ‘Oooowww – my flippin’ knuckles!’ He danced in agony, flapping his ruined hand.

  Meanwhile, Lysander had burned himself out chasing phantoms. He stood still and yawned. ‘Night and fog,’ he growled. ‘Deadly combination. I’ll get some rest, track down that wuss Demetrius in the morning.’ He lay down. Nearby, his rival was doing the same, and in another part of the wood slept Helena and Hermia, each unaware of the other’s proximity.

  As the four exhausted mortals lay sleeping, a group approached that included the lovers Titania and Bottom, the attendants Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseed and other fairies. Some of these fairies had once been photographed here in Cottingley Wood by two young mortal girls. The snapshots had appeared in books and magazines all over the world, and the fairies were finding it difficult to get over themselves because of it. Behind this group, undetected, came Oberon.

  Titania smiled fondly at Bottom. ‘Sit down on this flowery bed, my love. I want to caress your cheek, twist flowers into your hair and kiss those gorgeous big ears.’

  The couple reclined on the grass, and Titania proceded to do those things. Bottom smiled contentedly, as well he might, and looked around.

  ‘Where’s Peasblossom?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’m here,’ said that fairy.

  ‘Scratch my head, will you, Peaseblossom? Where’s Cobweb?’

  ‘Ready,’ said Cobweb.

  ‘Ah, Cobweb.’ Bottom treated the attendant to his ass’s smile. ‘I want you to find a bumblebee and nick its honey-bag. Take it easy mind – there’s no rush. Bring me the honey, and be careful not to slosh it around. Don’t want you pickling yourself. Mustardseed?’

  ‘Here,’ answered Mustardseed. ‘How may I help you?’

  ‘The scratching,’ yawned Bottom. ‘Just help with the scratching, will you? My face feels hairy, can’t think why.’

  ‘Perhaps my handsome darling would like to hear some music?’ suggested Titania.

  ‘Oh, aye!’ nodded Bottom. ‘Partial to a bit of music, I am. Let’s have somebody play the tongs, and somebody else the bones.’

  ‘And what about food? What will you eat, my prince?’

  ‘I could murder a helping of dry oats,’ requested Bottom, ‘washed down with a bottle of hay. Can’t beat a good bottle of hay when you’ve a thirst on, I always say.’

  Titania pulled a face. ‘Sounds absolutely ghastly, my dear, but there’s a brave fairy standing by who’ll track down a squirrel’s hoard and bring you fresh nuts.’

  Bottom shook his monstrous head. ‘I’d sooner have a handful or two of dried peas, but never mind. I feel fatigued suddenly. Tell your fairies not to bother me with anything – I fancy a nap.’

  ‘Of course, my love,’ crooned Titania. ‘Let me hold you in my arms while you sleep.’ She turned to her retinue. ‘Make yourselves scarce,’ she commanded. ‘Go on – scram.’ She twined herself round Bottom. ‘I’m crazy about you, you handsome hunk,’ she murmured. ‘Crazy.’

  Oberon, who’d watched all this, looked round as Puck appeared. He indicated the ill-matched couple on the ground. ‘Look at the state of this, Puck. I was watching her a few minutes ago, fawning on this donkey-headed numpty. She was weaving flowers into his hair, if you can believe it. And when I mocked her for it, she asked me to bear with her. Asked me softly, y’know? Which can only be because she realises deep down she’s being a plonker. And since she seemed to be feeling soft, I took the opportunity to ask her for the Indian boy.’ Oberon shrugged, pulled a face. ‘And she gave him to me, just like that. I couldn’t believe it. He’s in my bower right now, in fairyland. So now…’ Oberon showed Puck the antidote. ‘I’m going to take the spell off.’ He pointed to Bottom. ‘And then you’d better get rid of that ass’s head, so this rude mechanical can wake like the others and get himself home.’ He smiled. ‘They won’t remember anything that’s happened to them while they were bewitched, except in the form of those vague memories you get when you wake after dreaming.’

  Oberon administered the antidote, and Titania woke up.

  ‘Oh, it’s you, Oberon,’ she mumbled. ‘D’you know, I dreamed I was madly in love with an ass!’

  Oberon smiled. ‘And so you were, my dear – there he lies.’

  ‘Ugh!’ Titania jerked herself clear of the sleeping Bottom. ‘How the devil could such a thing happen? He’s totally hideous!’

  Oberon laughed. ‘Don’t worry about it, Titania – stuff happens, that’s all. Let’s have some music – perhaps it will wake these mortals who’ve taken to dossing in the wood.’

  ‘Aye, let them wake,’ cried Puck, ‘and see things through their own eyes!’

  ‘Let them rest,’ chuckled Oberon. ‘Tonight we dance and sing in celebration of the coming festivities, and tomorrow we’ll go to Theseus’s house, where we’ll bless his union with Hippolyta, and see these lately bewildered couples wed, so that all ends happily.’

  Early next morning, their wedding ceremony behind them, Theseus and Hippolyta decided to spend the day in the countryside. Strolling through Cottingley Wood in the company of Egeus and a squad of minders, they happened on the place where the four young people lay sleeping.

  ‘Who’re these?’ exclaimed Theseus.

  ‘It’s my daughter, Hermia,’ cried Egeus, ‘with Lysander, Demetrius and her friend, Helena. What on earth are they doing out here?’

  ‘They were probably celebrating May Day,’ said Theseus. ‘They heard Hippolyta and I planned to come this way, and stayed to congratulate us.’ He frowned at Egeus. ‘Isn’t it today your daughter has to decide whether to obey you and marry Demetrius, or face death or banishment?’

  Egeus nodded grimly. ‘It is indeed.’

  ‘Then we must wake them and know Hermia’s decision.’

  The youngsters were quickly wakened. Their hearts kicked them in the ribs when they saw who was gazing down at them. Nobody messes with Theseus. They scrambled to their feet, knocking dust and grass from their clothes with their hands. ‘S-s-sorry,’ stammered Lysander, ‘we were just…’

  ‘What puzzles me,’ interrupted Theseus, ‘is how you and Demetrius can lie down and sleep within a foot of each other, when everybody knows you’re bitter rivals.’

  Lysander shook his head. ‘This is going to sound weird, but I don’t really remember how I got here. I was … Hermia and I were to meet, and we were going to run off where nobody’d ever…’

  ‘See!’ cried Egeus. ‘He admits it – he was going to rob Demetrius of a wife, and me of a daughter.’

  ‘Yes,’ nodded Demetrius. ‘Helena warned me of their plan – I came to intercept them, and Helena followed me. And then…’ He broke off, shook his head. ‘And then suddenly I didn’t love Hermia any more – I loved Helena. I know that all sounds crazy and I can’t explain. It happened, that’s all I can say. And I know I’ll love Helena for ever.’

  Theseus shook his head. ‘Amazing.’ He turned to Egeus. ‘I’m sorry, old friend, but I’m going to have to overrule you. This has turned out so conveniently, I’m inclined to believe some higher power has been at work.’ He smiled. ‘Let’s scrap this outing, go back to my place – sorry, dear – our place, see these loving couples wed and have a party
.’

  The four young people watched as Theseus, Hippolyta and Egeus faded among the trees, followed by Theseus’s minders. When the group had passed from view, they turned dazed expressions on one another.

  ‘Am I still dreaming,’ murmured Demetrius, ‘or did Theseus just invite us to a party at his place?’

  ‘It’s like a dream,’ whispered Helena. ‘Me and my Demetrius.’

  ‘We did dream, I think,’ said Lysander. ‘I can’t really remember.’

  ‘Weddings were mentioned just now,’ put in Hermia. ‘I certainly didn’t dream that, so why don’t we make our way to Theseus’s, and tell each other our dreams as we go?’

  Not far away, Bottom was waking from his dream. He couldn’t remember what he’d dreamed, except that it was something seriously weird, with a fairy queen in it. The word Peaseblossom drifted across his mind, and something about a hairy face. All nonsense, of course. He was to play Pyramus in a play though – that was real enough. What about his friends? Where were Quince, Flute, Snug, Starveling and Snout? They’d been rehearsing with him, hadn’t they – here in the wood? Why had they left him alone? He set off home, muttering under his breath:

  ‘The ass I am, I have not always been; methinks I embraced a fairy queen.’

  Act Five

  At Quince’s place, the players were panicking. Any minute, Philostrate might send for them. As organiser of tonight’s festivities, he’d want to see their play, to satisfy himself that it was fit to be performed in front of Theseus, Hippolyta and their high-powered guests.

  Snag was, nobody could find Bottom. ‘Have you tried his house?’ asked Quince. ‘Is he back yet?’

  Starveling shook his head. ‘They’ve heard nowt from him – maybe he’s gone off with the aliens who remodelled his bonce.’

  ‘That’s it then,’ groaned Flute. ‘We’re stuffed. Can’t do the play without him, can we?’

  Quince shook his head. ‘Can we heck. Nobody could step in at such short notice.’

  There was a knock at the door. Snug came in.

  ‘Hey, listen – it’s not just Theseus and his missus partying tonight. There’s two other couples getting wed, and all their guests’ll be there as well. Just think, if we’d done Pyramus and Thisby in front of that lot, there’d have been loads of tips, word-of-mouth recommendations, future bookings. We’d have made it, guys – big time.’

  ‘Well, there you go,’ said Flute. ‘Our big break, and Bottom’s blown it.’

  ‘No, he hasn’t,’ said a familiar voice. Everybody swung round. Bottom stood grinning in the doorway, wearing his own head. ‘Weird stuff’s gone down with me, lads, I can tell you.’

  ‘Tell us about it,’ smiled Quince, who was mightily relieved.

  Bottom shook his head. ‘Not now. We’ve got to get our stuff together, and boogie on down to Theseus’s place, so we’re ready if Philostrate gives us the word.’

  At Theseus’s house, Hippolyta was puzzling over the stories that Lysander and the other young people had told. ‘It’s gob-smackingly weird, darling, isn’t it?’

  ‘More weird than true, if you ask me,’ growled Theseus. ‘I can’t be doing with all this new age, airy-fairy stuff. It’s for poets, vegans and save-the-gay-green-whale types in sandals. Give me the real world any time.’

  ‘What they recall of their experience may seem airy-fairy,’ argued Hippolyta, ‘but it has caused them to commit to one another in a very responsible way.’

  Before her husband could respond, the two young couples appeared.

  ‘Speak of the devil,’ growled Theseus, ‘and here are the newlyweds, full of the joys of spring.’ He tried on a smile, turning to them. ‘You’re all well, I trust?’

  ‘We are indeed,’ replied Lysander. ‘And we hope the same is true of yourselves.’

  ‘It is,’ Theseus told him, ‘but we’ve an important decision to take, which is what show to book that’ll pass three hours or so between supper and bedtime?’ He glanced around. ‘Where’s Philostrate?’

  ‘I’m here,’ answered the organiser.

  ‘What choices have we, Phil?’

  ‘I’ve a variety of acts laid on,’ said Philostrate. ‘Here’s the list.’ He handed Theseus a paper. ‘Just choose whichever you all fancy.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ Theseus studied the list. ‘Cherry-ripe, sung by a male soprano to the banjo. Huh! Let him sing to the banjo if he likes – he’s not singing to me.’

  ‘There’s a play’ said Philostrate. ‘It’s ten words long, which makes it the shortest play I ever heard of, and even then it’s ten words too long. It’s tedious, the hero dies, and the company’s the most shambolic ever to tread the boards.’

  ‘Who’re the players?’ asked Theseus.

  ‘Unemployed youths, thick as two short planks, doing a drama course to pass the time.’

  Theseus grinned. ‘Let’s give ’em a chance – why not?’

  ‘No.’ The organiser shook his head. ‘Their play’s not for a sophisticated gentleman like you, Theseus. I’ve seen it, it’s rubbish.’ He shrugged. ‘Unless of course you feel the sheer unmitigated badness of the thing might amuse you.’

  Theseus looked at him. ‘We’ll see it. They’re simple people, doing the best they can. That makes it pretty fine, no matter how bad it is. Bring them in.’ He turned to his guests. ‘Take your seats, everybody.’

  Philostrate returned. ‘They have a prologue, sir.’

  Theseus nodded. ‘No problem.’

  Quince appeared on stage and recited his prologue. It came across as a bit of a muddle, and the audience was left none the wiser when it was done. Quince bowed and exited. Straight after came a fanfare, and on came Pyramus and Thisby, Wall, Moonshine and Lion. Quince introduced these characters, then commenced to explain the story of Pyramus and Thisby from start to finish. This done he exited, along with all the characters except Wall.

  Snout, playing Wall, then gave his name and told the audience he represented a wall that had a crack in it. ‘This crack,’ he explained, ‘is the very crack that Pyramus and Thisby talk to each other through.’

  At this point, Starveling came on, playing Moonshine.

  ‘This man represents Moonshine,’ said Wall, ‘because Pyramus and Thisby always met by moonlight.’

  Lion now entered, and Wall spelled out the beast’s part in the story. In the audience, Theseus leaned across and murmured in Demetrius’s ear. ‘Bet you’ve never met a wall that spoke better than this one, eh?’

  Demetrius chuckled. ‘Wittiest partition I ever heard, sir.’

  These preliminaries being done with, the company commenced to appear according to their cues, and to act out the play. It ran smoothly for the most part, and presently it was time for Lion to perform.

  Snug faced the audience and began his prologue. ‘For the purpose of the play, we intend to portray the lion as a fearsome beast…’

  Theseus whispered again to Demetrius. ‘Didn’t realise lions could be politically correct.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ smiled Demetrius. ‘Political correctness has entered the mane-stream – geddit?’

  ‘I cat-egorically deny that,’ quipped Lysander.

  Everybody groaned.

  ‘Sssh!’ hissed Theseus. ‘Listen to the Moonshine.’

  Starveling, lantern in hand, intoned, ‘This lantern represents the moon, and I’m the Man in the Moon…’

  Amused by the ludicrous spectacle before them, the audience was sending everything up.

  ‘If he’s the Man in the Moon,’ murmured Theseus, ‘and the lantern’s the moon, why isn’t he in the lantern?’

  ‘’Cause the candle’d satellite to him,’ whooped Demetrius.

  ‘You’re just trying to crater disturbance,’ growled Lysander.

  ‘I didn’t planet,’ rejoined Demetrius, seismic with mirth.

  On stage, unnoticed, the play reached its tragic end. The audience quelled its laughter as Bottom stepped forward, peering to where Theseus was seated. ‘Would you care to hear our epil
ogue, sir, or watch a dance performed by two of the company?’

  Theseus shook his head. ‘No epilogue, young man. Your play is a total tragedy, beautifully performed. Let’s see the dance.’

  As two of the players danced, Theseus turned to his guests. ‘It’s gone midnight – time to hit the sack.’ He smiled. ‘I won’t be surprised if one or two of us sleep late in the morning.’

  The company rose and dispersed, leaving the students to pack up their props.

  With the mortals gone, and the house dark and silent, Puck appeared. He carried a broom, with which he commenced to sweep up the party debris.

  As the elf worked, Titania and Oberon appeared, their quarrel suspended in the happiness of the occasion. Triple weddings don’t happen every day, and the bestowal of so many blessings was going to require all of their energy, leaving none to fuel a grudge.

  The fairy attendants flitted from room to room, dancing and singing to bring good fortune to the house, while Oberon and Titania crept upstairs to bless the sleeping couples. This done, all departed as silently as they’d come, leaving the mortals to their sleep, and to their dreams.

  About the Author

  There was no tradition of theatre-going in my working-class family, and I was never exposed to Shakespeare in my youth. Because of this, I have always had difficulty in extracting meaning from the Bard’s intricate language while watching a performance. I can sort it out when reading a play: I go ‘huh … what’s that he’s saying?’ and read the passage again. And, if necessary, again. On stage it’s there, then it’s gone, and here comes another fancy bit.

  I was delighted therefore to be asked to write a simplified prose interpretation of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, my favourite Shakespeare play. I feel that if I’d read something like this before seeing the play on stage, I’d have had a clearer idea of what was going on, and been free to revel in the playwright’s matchless poetry. I hope this little book will help somebody do just that, and even pass an exam in it!