#thee silliest man of all time

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Salome!

"La Belle Dame sans Mercy" ("The Beautiful Lady Without Mercy") - A ballad by John Keats

"The poem is about a fairy who condemns a knight to an unpleasant fate after she seduces him with her eyes and singing." please

This screams Knight!König x Fairy!Reader to me.

I just know König would gladly die by the hand of such an ethereal being.

"She looked at me as she did love, and made a sweet moan."

"And sure in language strange she said—'I love thee true.'"

That’s it. Thank you.

I swear this artwork kills me everytime I see it....

Ok this became the silliest fairytale ever 🩷✨️

CW: Historical AU blending with mythical/supernatural AU. König being a dreamy mess of a knight who doesn't fit in "normal" society. Reader is part of faefolk. Heavy Arthurian Romance vibes.

König returns to the castle one day. The son of a great liege lord, a warrior through and through, but some people say he should’ve been a poet: so dreamily he looks beyond the battlements at times, sighs after drinking too much wine, stares off into dark corners of the room while tending to his sword and armour as if he can see little pixies dancing there.

His siblings sometimes hit him on the back of his head, or wave a hand over his eyes when he’s about to slip into the fairy world, a forgotten plane that is not supposed to reach the castle. But the castle stones were taken from the moors and the woods, the old land not bending to the priest’s will no matter how many crosses they brought here. Fragile souls are wanton prey for the elves and the fairies who would take them to their land the moment they drop down their guard, and only prayer and fasting hold them at bay. In the fairylands, there is no toil or sorrow; the food is golden honey and wine, the dance and love everlasting, and the fae girls more beautiful than any human maid.

It sounded too good to be true, and it was: God had created men to work and women to give birth, and all the land was theirs to use and cultivate, it was not made to simply run and frolic upon. Some say that these were just old tales and that Christ would banish these creatures away, turn the land to yielding crops and tame firewood.

But some still believed.

When he was a child, the mighty son of the feared lord took porridge and almonds to the woods. “For the fairy people,” he said with bright, trusting eyes. Stole food from under the mistress’s nose, and no one ever dared to say anything about it.

But when this nonsense carried on to adulthood, people had to intervene. There was work to be done, war, harvest and building, and no matter how many coins this man paid to the visiting bards, it would never turn their stories true.

His arm was strong and his strike was true, but his head seemed to be filled with dandelion wine, even when he hadn’t been drinking. Sighed after this maiden or that, wished to travel to foreign lands, courted every nobleman’s daughter who visited the castle, but no one ever took him seriously.

This man had to watch how lady after lady chose some other valiant knight as their husband, some men whose heads were not filled with fairytales and dreams. They did flirt with him, for who could’ve resisted the temptation of making this giant a little sweaty under all that armor? Armor that demanded plate for two people, and a smith who had the talent to forge such a beastly thing.

Nevertheless, he was always left without a warm embrace, and so he was usually found outside, looking at the full moon or spending time in taverns, choosing the company of thieves and rascals over his serious kin.

And now he has returned from the woods, having been gone for months.

People thought he had finally left to fight for some other lord, posing as a simple footsoldier, a disguise that would relieve him of his tedious duties as a knight. Or to court some “lovely peasant girl” he always talked about – such talks were usually crushed by his father, demanding him to be sensible for once in his life.

But he doesn’t prattle about peasant girls now, nor does he ramble about screaming ships at the bottom of the sea. He doesn’t hold a speech about forgotten stone circles in the forest, the ones that already grow moss. No, he has finally lost it completely.

His eyes are wild, as is his hair; his armour is nowhere to be seen, and his sword is without its sheath. He doesn’t talk about what he saw in that forest to anyone, nor is he willing to tell where he has even been these past few moons.

He seems very shaken when he’s told they were worried he wouldn’t make it to the May Day feast, and asks for how long he was gone, drives a hand through dishevelled hair when he hears that he was away for three full months.

“Three months…” he mutters to himself, then leaves to his room, the huge sword dragging against the stone floor as he goes. He has always, always made sure it wouldn’t dull, but now he’s treating it like it’s become a part of him, confused and lost.

He doesn’t eat, hardly speaks after that.

The food tastes like ash, he says, and the ale tastes like bile. But the following evening, when his mother orders someone to pour her poor son some more wine, he looks up helplessly like a child.

“I have to go back,” he says.

A clamour arises, huffed exclaims of “What on earth is he on about” and “Sir, you only just got back!” His father rises from his chair and orders him to stop this nonsense at once. But this time, there is no embarrassed sweep of hand through hair, no red colour that rises on this peculiar knight’s cheeks. His lips only make a thin line before he rises as well and leaves the hall with a weight on his shoulders and dark determination in his stare.

At the stables, a stout Moorland pony and poor stable boy get to witness the drunken bawls of a forlorn knight. The wine sack almost slips from his hands to the dirt as he slumps against the timber of the stall, distorted face coming to rest against a wide, shaky palm.

Luckily, a friend of his knows where to look, and the stable boy sneaks into the shadows, slightly scared of the sorrow of such a big, intimidating man.

But even the companion who always listened to every enthusiastic story since they were kids and ran across the moors, throwing little rocks at his father’s soldiers and laughing when their helmets made a funny clinky sound, can not understand the drunken babble that comes out of König’s mouth this time.

He starts from the middle, which is highly unusual, and talks in strings of sentences that don’t make sense. “She was real, I just know it,” he repeats, over and over again in the middle of confessions about how beautiful she was, how her hair was like the softest spun yarn, her body incredible, naked and wild when she came to him. That her laugh was like the chime of little bells or the sound of the loveliest harp, a song on its own when she walked to him.

She was fascinated with his sword, especially the pommel and the handle interested her, and the curve in the middle of the blade she brushed with her fingers as if it was an entire vale.

He had never seen a woman touch his sword like that… They were never interested in such things, but she was, and she asked him so many questions.

Had he ever felled a tree?

Did he like squirrels?

Were his thighs as hairy as his chest?

She took him down the river, or he followed her; he can’t remember. Her step was so light it didn’t make a sound, and the moss seemed to turn brighter every time her little foot stepped on it. Her hands were tiny too when she wrapped them around his neck, pressed her body against his, and kissed him until there was nothing left of him: no helmet, no sword, nothing but sun and her, her hands and her lips.

Her mouth was still on his when she whispered she didn’t like his armour because it was so hard and rigid and cold, oh, she wondered if there was a man inside there at all.

So of course he showed her.

She giggled at the sight of him, especially his thighs, knelt down on the moss to see how hairy they were.

And would you believe the way she touched him then? It makes him heady even now…

Yes, he took her. But not the way a man takes a woman. She came to straddle him and laughed again, and the things they did together… He can’t even speak about them, but he knows the sun always shined when they rolled on the grass. Her giggles and moans surrounded him, her soft little thighs were stronger than they looked, her breasts so round and soft, so perfect he swore he had gone to heaven.

He bathed in her, with her, all day long. And the nights… You wouldn’t believe the nights: there was song and dance and more giggling women, and also a man dressed all in leaves, so big and thick he first thought he was a tree. An old king, she said, nothing he should worry about. And the wine tasted like summer and honey and gold; it was red, perhaps, but also like sea amber and sun…

She fed him flowers and laughed, caressed his face and said he’s the biggest and hairiest human she had ever seen. She let him lick honey from her fingertips and caressed him with heather and ivy, opened her mouth before feeding him a soft, sweet piece of cake, showing him how he needed to open his mouth as well if he wanted it on his tongue.

She kissed the crumbs from his lips and trailed a finger down his chest, all the way down, until…

Oh, he can’t talk about it.

It was better than he ever even imagined: better than the stories they tell in the taverns. It was like his wedding night, over and over again, it was like he was Lancelot, and she was his Guinevere.

No, no, she was not an enchantress, although everything about her was enchanting... All the stories came alive with her, even the moon was bigger than anywhere he’d ever seen, the deers ran past them while they made love, and the birds sang even at night.

He told her he loved her, but she didn’t know what it meant. When he explained it to her, she looked at him gently, so gently…

He cried from joy then, but she never mocked him. She only said it’s a sign that he’s hers. That he will never forget her. She said he’ll always find her, even when he’s old: she will make him young again. He’s welcome here if he wants: she has so many places to show him.

He thanked all the saints for having found her, Saint George and Saint Mary first, but stopped when her little brows furrowed with sorrow. Her eyes, filled with starlight and love, turned so sad that his heart couldn’t bear it, not for one beat.

The sea is far wilder here: he should come and see the ocean as it was at the dawn of time. The ivy is so strong you can use it to climb the trees and see the whole world from atop the tree, the whole land, covered in forest, such as it was before humans came. There’s no smoke or fire or war: just green everywhere, wild rippling streams and honey bees and berries and fish for everyone who ever feels hungry... They can make love day and night, and she’ll teach him all the songs of old. Humans only remember bits and pieces, but she knows how things really happened, she can tell him everything about heroes, kings and queens.

She said she wanted to sleep, and so he took her from the feast and laid her on the grass… She might’ve sung to him, he can’t remember, but it was like an angel’s caress all over him, somber and sweet before the dreams took him, a dream within a dream.

He slept for ages, it seemed, saw so many dreams, each more beautiful than the last until he woke up and saw that the forest had turned grey.

There was no maiden in his lap, no dance and song in the distance, no scent of flowers and dreams and springs to be found. The sun was up in the sky, but it didn’t paint all the colours with gold or fill the streams with light. The forest was half dead to him, just old, thick trees around him, a green-grey forest floor and a shaggy squirrel who chirped and squeaked at him as if it was his fault that the fae folk were gone.

He searched for her, called for her, but she didn’t answer, and how could she have? He didn’t even know her name. He only knew how lovely she felt, how soft her hair was when it fell to cover him like a veil, how adorable her sighs and tiny little gasps were when he filled her, over and over again.

His armour was nowhere to be found, and his sword was somewhere downstream, half covered with leaves and dirt, rusty and beaten by the wind. It was early spring when he came here; the land was still barren and grey, but now, everything was green. Still, it was not the green he wanted. It was not the green that filled his vision entirely, bright, blooming green that pulsed with lush joy. It was just… earth and grass and dirt.

So you see, he has to go back. He has to find her, whatever it takes. She promised he could always come back… She promised…

He cries once more, head bowed and mighty shoulders trembling from the force of his sorrow, and it is no use to tell him that the fae folk are evil. That they’re from the Devil and only want to make good, decent men like them forget. Forget their duty, their laws, their Christ.

It’s no use to tell him that it is not natural, the place he has seen. No doubt he has been somewhere, but it cannot be anything good… No man can survive on flowers and spring water for three months; they cannot frolic with the faeries for days on end without losing their mind and soul.

And König is already lost; he was lost since he was a child, rambling about how he received flowers, sticks and stones as tokens of the faefolk’s gratitude because he brought them food.

He tries to tell the boy who never grew up, the mightiest man in this kingdom, the dreamiest knight there ever was, that he needs to return to the real world. No fae woman would have him as a husband, they are only after his soul. But surely some human lady would take him into her bed, think about it, for God’s sake, please... He has duties here, people who love him, his father would make him a lord if he only put himself together. What kind of knight would abandon his sword, helmet and armour for the sake of an elf who despises the saints...?

But in the morn, König is gone.

His rusty sword is on the floor, the wooden cross taken off the wall. There lies a honeycomb and a flower on his window, a blossom so sweet it cannot be plucked from any field around here. Too exotic and bright, especially when placed atop the rough, grey stones, it looks like it could never wither from how beautifully it blooms.

The peasants now tell a tale of a man that haunts the woods: a huge giant dressed all in green, donning a leaf cloak of some sort and a beard that grows ivy. But they say he is not evil: he only shows himself to hunters who are about to fall a deer, or children who remember the land with little gifts.

Old men say they saw a green man when they were kids and brought bread and milk to the faeries, they swear to this day they saw a man who greeted them with a smile. And when they looked again, there was nothing but a tree where this giant stook, a young oak, sighing with the wind...

#könig x reader #könig x you #mythology au #arthurian au #historical au

[froldgapp]

This is the silliest thing I have ever written. It wasn’t a true dive bar, which was a shame, Jay thought, ‘cos it would have been fun to see Tim in one. As it was, he, Tim and Dick had ended up in a kitschy-cum-run down joint on the edge of Burnside. They’d grabbed some dinner together with the rest of the clan, Damian and Steph sniping at Tim the whole time from different parapets: one accusing him of being a “hapless clown” the other calling him the “Larry David of the family.” Tim let it run off his namesake's proverbial back but in the end they got through and it wasn't pretty. Tim had this sort of scorpion tail reflex when it came to conflict; one minute he’d sit there still as death just absorbing the blows and then the next–kablam!–he'd nail his assailants with the most vicious shit ever heard in your life. The arguments spilled over and everyone’s mood soured. Everyone's apart from Jason’s; he had a ball.

Bundled away together with Duke, they’d sent Damian off in a private car to lick his wounds, while Steph and Cass peeled off together to go watch a movie. That left the Robins one, two, and thee at a loose end. Tim tried to slip away but Dick captured him from behind in a bear hug, lifting him off his feet and swinging him one way and then the other like a disgruntled family cat. For Jason's part, he felt oddly loathe to pass up the opportunity to hang out with the eldest of them. To talk shit about Bruce though. Obviously.

So, they agreed to go out. Out. Just three regular guys. Three totally normal, not emotionally dilapidated, certainly not un-dead guys. Fun. They would have fun.

So that’s how they found themselves in Andy’s War Hole, a bar as stupid as it was filthy but Dick made the call because of its cabaret set-up of small, badly lit tables. They could talk some shop, so long as they were oblique about it.

It took a while to convince the door staff that Tim was, in fact, 21 even though he was, in fact, only 19, but Dick worked his magic and the guys folded. Or at least that’s what Jay let Dick think. It was more likely to be the two 50s Jay palmed from Dickhead’s pocket and paid them off with while he was busy making histrionics about Drake’s infamous babyface.

Now, together at the table–Dick and Jay with some tap beer and Tim with some tap water (he didn’t drink, thank you)–they could finally relax. The man laboriously setting up the karaoke night had other things to say about that quiet drink though. Tim tried to escape again hearing the man one-two test the mic, but Dick’s viper speed was too much for him and he was dragged back to sitting.

"All right," Dick said happily now that everyone was settled. "Look at us!"

“So, Timbo,” Jay began, his face enquiring. “Why are you such a damp dildo?”

Dick dropped his head back with a sigh. “Can we not start? Please.”

"Who's starting?" Jay said innocently. "Just want to know why the kid don't laugh."

Tim narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t know you were a fan of clowns, Jay.”

“Tim, will you–” Dick scratched at his forehead. “We just sat down.”

“Oh, ho, ho! Look at this spicy margarita!”

“Yeah, yeah..." Tim sneered. "I knew I’d be a punching bag if I came.” "Look." Dick put one large hand on top of Jay’s. “Jay, be nice.” Then the other on top of Tim’s. “Tim...” Dick put his tightrope walking experience to the test. “Be... not... whatever you’re being right now.”

Jay and Tim held each other's gaze for a beat too long then both backed down. Dick took a grounding breath. “Okay, let’s see...” He looked around for inspiration. “What’s eh...”

Christ, Jay thought. Were they really as bad as this at shooting the shit together?

“Jay, what’s your favourite... Which... Oh! How about... Eh... Oh, oh! What way do you put the toilet paper on? Flap in or flap... oh my God...” Jay had that look on his face. The smirk.

“I just want to know why the kid doesn’t know how to have fun.”

Dick scrunched his eyes shut. He actually looked a bit like he might cry.

“I know how to have fun,” Tim said.

“He knows how to have fun,” Dick insisted. “He knows how to have fun. Sure he does... He had... There was that one time... Remember, with the trains?” He put his arms out like he was balancing on top of a speeding carriage.

Tim sat back and pouted. “Dick, that was like five years ago.”

Jay put his hands up. “I rest my case.”

Tim’s forehead pulled together, his eyebrows like a goose formation in a kamikaze dive. “I know how to have fun.”

Jay grinned and leaned forward, meeting Tim’s resolute stare. He pointed at the karaoke machine. “Prove it.”

ooo

It started with short, sharp shoulder shakes as the first explosive snare hits of Dancer in the Dark rang out across the bar.

“What is happening?” Dick whispered.

“I get up in the evening and I ain’t got nothing to say.”

The crowd whooped as Tim tore into the opening lines of Springsteen like a greyhound out of the starting gate.

“Fucking Bruce.”

Dick looked at Jay. “What’s he got to do with it?”

“Not him.” Jay scowled. “The other one.”

“I ain't nothing but tired. Man, I'm just tired and bored with myself.”

One woman jumped up and yelled back down at her table of friends, “Oh my God, that little boy is so good!”

Jay stared open mouthed as Tim tilted the mic stand to the left, dragging out a screeching vowel like he smoked 80 a day since he was nine years old. Someone a the bar shouted, "Fuck yeah!” Jay looked dazedly at him then back at Tim.

“This gun's for hire even if we're just dancing in the dark.”

"I didn't know he could sing," Dick observed, his drink hovering in front of his gobsmacked face.

"I didn't know he could..." Jay gestured with numbed hands. "I... This... This ain't right."

"Is this what he's been doing in his 'alone time?'”

Jay frowned. "I preferred it when we thought he was interfering with himself in there.”

“I check my look in the mirror, I wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face.”

If they thought he was in full flow before, when the bridge came, he really hit his stride, crooning into the mic while he shrank back in theatric anguish:

“You sit around getting older. There's a joke here somewhere, and it's on me. I'll shake this world off my shoulders. Come on, baby, the laugh's on me.”

Dick shook his head, his eyes still fixed on Tim. “It’s... I don’t know if I’m amazed or unnerved.”

Jay mirrored him. “Low key hoping for a TBI tonight to forget, to be honest.”

"I mean he's good,” Dick supplied.

“Good, yeah, yeah,” Jay said, watching Tim throw his head back and roar at the ceiling. “But this is very bad. Me no likey.”

“Uncomfy.”

“It’s like he’s singing at me.” Jay said, shuddering.

Dick was mesmerised as Tim executed a sort of Elvis hip move. “It’s like he’s singing about me.”

The crowd was incensed by the time Tim was singing out the refrain. One burly man had made his way to the little stage and was slapping his hands passionately at Tim’s feet. Tim cracked his first smile of the whole night and finally locked eyes with his brothers. He was laughing at them.

“The little bastard,” Jay said.

“We should have known,” Dick answered. “There’s no gauntlet in the world this kid’s too scared pick up.”

An explosion of applause as Tim finished. He waved off the cheers and left the stage with a humble bow. Jostled lovingly with copious drinks offered and refused, he moved back through the crowd and toward their table. He plopped back down and picked up his water. Dick and Jay, speechless, watched him as though he were a strange and dangerous new species.

“Cheers,” Tim said, and downed his tap water in one.

#batbros #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #batfam

[imagine-the-matsu]

The boys reaction to their s/o acting like them.

Osomatsu: “Oh look at me! I’m Osomatsu, I drink, gamble, and stare at titties all the time!” You mocked, standing in front of the mirror of the Matsu bedroom with a familiar red hoodie on. It was the one time you had spotted it without its owner anywhere nearby so naturally, you had to put it on and mimic the bastard man you loved. But hell, you didn’t expect him to huff so loudly while entering the room. “Hey! That’s not true! I also stare at asses!” Osomatsu protested, making you start laughing as you turned around to witness the jacketless male with his stupid ‘Pussy Destroyer’ shirt on. God he even had two beers in hand and a bag of oden on his arm. He looked like he just ran a mile to get back here but hell, the look on his face had you snorting out. God, he looked so offended but in the overly exaggerated way that revealed that he knew that you weren’t really being mean. “Oh yeah! I’m Osomatsu and I looooooooove asses and titties so much that I can’t stop grabbing my lover’s!” You called out, rubbing your finger under your nose to mimic him again and only to get him to give the same reaction. Laughing he set the food down on the table set up in the bedroom and then walking over to wrap you up in his arms and kiss all over your face. “And I’m (S/O) and I love it when Osomatsu is so cool and manly- which is all the time! He’s such a pussy destroyer that I can’t help but become soaked whenever I’m around him!” And you couldn’t help but smack him with a laugh before he simply kissed you silly.

Karamatsu: It was a normal day, sitting in your apartment waiting for Karamatsu to return with the last few items he forgot when going to get fixings for dinner. But, upon your lazy wait in a gaudy and sparkly Karamatsu faced shirt- which coincidentally was stretched out due to the size of your chest- you spot oh so familiar sunglasses. Karamatsu’s sunglasses. It was easy to see why you would put them on and look at yourself in your largest mirror. Well, to be frank, you looked good if not better than Karamatsu with his shirt on, jorts, and his sunglasses on. “Oh mine darling Karamatsu Girls! ~ How I pray that thee won't cry ov'r me for mine heart is stolen by the most quite quaint mistress in the world!” Being a former Shakespearian actress had its perks. Like speaking loudly and quoting Shakespear on a dime. It was how Karamatsu fell for you!~ “Mine darling love, mine passion! Mine gorgeous beauty! I would taketh the stars out of the sky for thee! Scream to the highest heavens for thee! Coequal giveth up mine glittery clothing for thee! Just doth one thing and kiss me mine darling! Mine Princess! Mine Angel! Mine Juliet!" Suddenly you hear a clearing of a throat and look behind you in the mirror, there was Karamatsu in the doorway and walking over after leaving the groceries in the kitchen. “No, no, no!~ My darlings’ compliments are off! You are the light of my life! The joy in my heart! The shining rays of the sun! God’s last true piece of art! Aphrodite’s darling creation! You are my perfect girlfriend! You are too good for me, a last!” Karamatsu had called out, tugging you close to kiss your cheek and rub his hands over your sides. “You are my perfect and only Karamatsu Girl now~”

Choromatsu: you watch in horror as choromatsu screams for his idol nyaa-chan up on stage. You knew he was a fan but, damn… a bit later as you both are walking home you start mocking him. "NYAAAA CHAAAAN I LOVE YOU!" you scream as you laugh hysterically. Choromatsu hides his face and blushes bright red. He groans your name as he walks in front of you and puts his head on your shoulder. "I will do anything if you stop…" He says. "Anything, huh?" You ask as he looks at you with a worried expression. You take him back to your apartment and have him do your chores...not without reward, however.

Ichimatsu: you pout and try to ignore osomatsu as you cuddle up to ichimatsu. He was teasing you for wearing ichi's hoodie. Osomatsu’s words kept crawling into your head and you couldn’t help but pout. “Fine! I’ll mimic him if you want me to, but I’m not going to be mean to Ichi!” You huffed, moving to stand up and dust off your sweatpants covered legs- Ichi saw the skirt you were wearing and immediately gave you a pair to wear- before you picked up one of the strays who particularly loved cuddling. “I’m Ichimatsu and I only like cats and my sweet (s/o).” ichimatsu blushes a deep red and stands up as well. Ichimatsu takes your hand and leads you back to your apartment where you both cuddle like cats… nude cats at that.

Jyushimatsu: Jyushimatsu was with you at the table where you were sat across from Totty and the person Totty decided to bring to this silly dating game. “Oh! Okay, so um… I guess if I’m to mimic Jyushi… I’m big and strong Jyushimatsu with the biggest smile and the silliest actions!” You tried talking in a deeper voice to attempt to match Jyushimatsu’s voice but things like that weren’t your strong suit. Jyushimatsu frowns, not understanding that you didn't mean any harm. Totty had to come up to you and tell you that you accidentally upset jyushimatsu. You go to him after getting the news. You kiss his cheek as you sit next to him, explaining that you loved him more than anything. Jyushimatsu smiles after understanding and kisses back. You both return to the party, happy. 

Todomatsu: todomatsu pulls up another card from the pile. "Mimic your s/o." He reads aloud. You were playing couples games with some of his friends. You smile and watch todomatsu mimic you. Then it was your turn. You pick up your phone. "I’m todomatsu! The cutest matsuno brother! I wear cute outfits and stare at my s/o's belly button when she's wearing a crop top!" You and the others giggle and totty makes a pouty face. "I do not stare at your belly button." He says gritting his teeth. You pull up your tee shirt and watch as he struggles to keep eye contact with you. Finally, he yells and throws his hands in the air. You smile and kiss his cheek. He pouts another moment but kisses back.

This was split between both mods.

Mutie- Kara, oso

A888- choromatsu, todo

Both- ichi, jyushimatsu

#matsuno osomatsu #osomatsu matsuno #mr osomatsu #osomatsu san #osomatsu #matsuno karamatsu #karamatsu #karamatsu matsuno #choromatsu matsuno #matsuno choromatsu #choromatsu #matsuno ichimatsu #ichimatsu matsuno #ichimatsu #matsuno jyushimatsu #jyushimatsu #jyushimatsu matsuno #matsuno todomatsu #todomatsu matsuno #todomatsu

[necromancy-savant]

My opinions on every single Shakespeare play

Most of this consists of things I wrote down a while ago when I was reading a play a day so I could keep them all straight in my head, particularly the ones I’ve only read once. 

COMEDIES

All's Well That Ends Well – Forgettable and made me roll my eyes but still better than Love’s Labor’s Lost.

As You Like It – I’m left with a lot of questions at the end of this. Does Orlando know that Rosalind was Ganymede? If he’s friends with Ganymede now, won’t he wonder what happened to him? And shouldn’t he be friends with Rosalind knowingly before marrying her? Should a relationship be built on deception like that? I guess you could say the same about Twelfth Night, but Orsino finds out Viola was disguised before marrying her so actually no, you couldn’t.

Comedy of Errors – This might just be the silliest thing I’ve ever read but it made me laugh anyway. You’d really think they’d figure out they’ve been talking to different people by the end of Act 2 at the absolute latest, but whatever. The best line by far is: “If she lives till doomsday, she’ll burn a week longer than the whole world.” It’s because she’s really greasy.

Love's Labor's Lost - So boring and pointless I almost couldn’t finish it. Literally nothing at all happens the entire time and there’s no reason for any of them to like each other.

Measure for Measure – Having already read Henry VI Part 3 a couple of times, this was déjà vu in the worst possible way. Plus the ending was fucked up in a whole variety of ways. Also, I realized I have no idea who the protagonist is, though I guess I thought it was Isabella. Other than the malapropisms (at least one character in this play should definitely have a Twitter) and the marriages, it’s hard to see this as a comedy. The aforementioned marriages are all fucked up in their own ways, except for Claudio and Juliet who were already pretty much married so they don’t count. Isabella should have stayed a nun and stayed single, and the Duke is totally the kind of guy who wants to think he’s a good person when really he’s an irresponsible douchebag. Like just do your fucking job instead of fucking with everyone for the sake of fishing for compliments or playing the hero or whatever.

Merchant of Venice – I might be able to like this if it weren’t for the worst anti-Semitism I’ve ever been exposed to. I like Portia; I kind of wish she was in a different play. I think Antonio and Bassanio should just be together, and she could be perfectly happy being single. This is one pairing I actually think is convincing, but to be fair I’m usually not particularly invested in the idea of anyone ending up with anyone.

Merry Wives of Windsor – I had high hopes for this because Falstaff is in it, because apparently Queen Elizabeth specifically requested more Falstaff, so in that regard she knows what’s up (I disapprove of the fact that she wouldn’t let Shakespeare perform Richard II because Richard II is wonderful). This was very silly but I thought the part where Mistress Quickly mishears a ton of Latin words was funny. Also there’s this girl whose parents each want her to marry a different guy except she wants to marry a third guy who she actually likes and he likes her and stuff, and her parents are like “you can’t marry him because he hangs out with sketchy people like Prince Hal and Ned Poins” and I just think it’s hilarious that they have such a bad reputation. After Taming of the Shrew I almost didn’t want to read comedies ever again but I’m glad I stuck with it because most of them really aren’t like that at all.

Midsummer Night's Dream – I love this and I can’t even explain why and I don’t really have a good reason for liking it; it just makes me lol, especially Nick Bottom. My favorite line is “In ten lines it is too long, making it tedious.” That’s a beautiful thing to say.

Much Ado about Nothing – I actually liked this one. It’s a tiny bit like Taming of the Shrew if Taming of the Shrew wasn’t horrible. I like that the leads have a healthy relationship based on friendship and mutual respect. They say they don’t want to get married because they just don’t want to have to settle for someone they don’t like enough, which I think is a good attitude to have cause it means they take marriage seriously, and they’re too afraid to be made fun of by each other to admit they like each other. Plus everyone likes Beatrice’s wit and outgoing personality instead of saying how awful she is and that she talks too much (for the record, Kate in Taming has waaayyyyy fewer lines than I expected her to have so that’s something to think about). I like how Benedick believes Hero when she says she was framed which was a pleasant surprise since I was worried he’d take Claudio’s side. It’s the part where Beatrice says “I’d eat his heart in the marketplace” and Benedick is on their side and doesn’t question or doubt them. And he and Beatrice were good friends first without being disguised as other people, except briefly but she might have known it was him. I like that he takes the high ground at the end by saying that it doesn’t matter what he said before and he doesn’t care what anyone says because he’s happy. And I like that he’s really, really picky about what he wants in a girlfriend but her hair color doesn’t matter. That was really funny.

Taming of the Shrew – Worst thing I ever read. First it’s all rape culture, and then it;s all abusive marriage. It has everything I can’t stand about certain kinds of modern comedies.

Twelfth Night – I didn’t think I’d like this one but I actually thought it was funny and really entertaining despite the fact that I don’t care who ends up together, so that tells me it’s doing something right. I also realized I remember whole passages that I had no idea I remembered from 8th grade.

Two Gentlemen of Verona – I don’t really have any strong feelings about this except that Proteus does not deserve a happy ending and I wonder what’s going to happen the next time he sees a woman other than Julia. But I guess that’s why they call him Proteus.

HISTORIES

King John – The whole thing was kind of just a will they/won’t they with the armies of England and France, but I like how extra Constance is, and Eleanor is pretty great which is why I’m pissed that she randomly dies offstage. Philip the Bastard is also an interesting character, but I still don’t really get how he walked into court one day a bastard and left it a Plantagenet.

Richard II – Love it; truly beautiful and tragic and has some of the prettiest, deepest lines I’ve read in Shakespeare, and it’s a reflection on the meaning of kingship that’s not seen elsewhere in the Histories. Richard is also not straight and seems kind of non-binary in the versions I’ve seen and I like that. Maybe part of the reason I like both of the Richards is that I see them as not straight. I know he’s no good at being king but I love him anyway. I didn’t think he was going to die though and was rather upset; when Bolingbroke was like “convey him to the Tower” I was like “oh shit, that’s where people go to die!” I mean I know they moved locations to Pomfret castle first, but that’s when I knew what was going to happen.

Henry IV, Part I – One of my favorites. I admit that at first I didn’t like Hotspur. I admit the most offensive thing about him to me was that he says he doesn’t like poetry. He struck the kind of person I can’t stand: loud, angry, annoying, and cares about things I think are stupid. But I’ve heard some different interpretations of his character, and I saw a production where he was really endearing and that got me to really like him. He’s a true chaotic good: he cares about justice first and doesn’t care who gets in the way of it, no matter how important they are. He really doesn’t deserve to die at all. Hell, he and Hal could probably be good allies if the circumstances were different. There are some really funny parts in this and Falstaff is great, and it’s actually really insightful when he says honor is a scutcheon in a way I wouldn’t have expected from him. Prince Hal strikes me as kind of a bro but he’s definitely more sympathetic for me in this one than the other two plays he’s in.

Henry IV, Part II – Honestly not much happens in this one until the end and I’m not sure if I can forgive Hal for what he did to Falstaff. The dude was so excited to go the coronation and see him and he was just like “I know thee not, old man.” It was cold, and normally when I say that I mean it in a good way but not this time. He was basically like “fuck off and die” and that’s exactly what he did. I’m not happy about that.

Henry V – I saw a joke summary of this that said “70% armed combat, 30% jokes” and that is completely accurate. This has its moments for sure. The comic relief characters aren’t as funny as Falstaff though, and I really can’t stand Pistol and couldn’t when he was briefly in the preceding play either. There are things I like about Henry V as a character, but sometimes I question his decisions. He manages to pull it all off somehow though, and that’s impressive.

Henry VI, Part I – I love this whole tetralogy. Joan of Arc was in this and that was a pleasant and unexpected surprise. York comes off as kind of a dick though. He and Somerset are the pettiest people ever. Plus I started to get some of Margaret’s backstory, and knowing what I know now I get why she’s so done with everyone by the time of Richard III. I still don’t forgive her for everything she ever said and I still don’t think she’s 100% a victim in all of this, but to be fair it turns out she is mostly a victim in all of this, and I get that she’s a bold person who’s willing to do what it takes to come out on top and survive, and this can be both a positive and a negative quality depending on the situation.

Henry VI, Part II – This one is largely about how York and Somerset’s pettiness almost destroyed England. Aside from that, this solidified for me that I really don’t like Henry, although Margaret continued to really grow on me in this one, and I feel bad for her that she has to put up with him and basically do everything for him. In spite of this, I find their relationship to be extremely entertaining. I like the part where she punches out the Duchess of Gloucester in front of the whole court and Henry’s just like “it’s whatever, she didn’t mean it” and the part where some guy fakes a miracle and they hit him to prove he can run away and Henry’s like “how could God let this happen?” but Margaret’s like “I thought it was funny watching him run away” (and I was like SAME; she really spends this whole play saying exactly what I’m thinking at any given time, particularly when it comes to Henry) and the part where they’re running away from the battle at the end and Henry can’t keep up because of fucking course he can’t and Margaret’s like “could you be any slower?” and he’s like “maybe we should just sit here and accept our fate.” He is such a wet blanket. I spent the whole thing yelling “Henry, what is wrong with you?!” at my book. While he’s not a terrible person he is mediocre and painfully stupid and I really don’t see him as having any redeeming qualities.  Also Richard shows up for like 5 minutes at the end to collect Somerset’s head and be called an “indigested lump” by someone he just fucking met, which incidentally is the same exact thing Henry said to him. Update: I finally figured out what it is I don’t like about Henry. It’s not even what he says to Richard in the Tower (that is not even half the reason I don’t like him, but for the record even if it was the entire reason it would be an excellent reason). It’s that I see him as childish and to me that’s an extremely negative quality, though I expect it’s also what makes him endearing to some people.

Henry VI, Part III – 10/10 I love it so much, I have a strong opinion on nearly every scene. Margaret is a badass in this one, Henry continues to be an ignorant, damp slice of bread, Richard is in it, and it has my favorite scene in all of Shakespeare when he kills Henry in the Tower, and another scene I love when he says “speak thou for me and tell them what I did” and then Margaret yells at Henry and says “art thou king and wilt be forced?” and her finest moment when she kills York, and the best piece of foreshadowing I’ve ever seen when Richard says about Margaret: “why should she live to fill the world with words?” Also Edward is a fuckboy and a bad influence. I’m ashamed to share a name with him. I kind of think he died of a deadly STD; serves him right.

Richard III – Favorite Shakespeare play, best thing I’ve read in a long time, and definitely one of the top five things I’ve ever read, especially taken together with Henry VI Part 3. It’s everything tragedy should be, parts of it are extremely relatable to me personally, I’ve memorized more of both plays than I care to admit, and it’s a good thing it’s short enough that I can read it over and over because that’s exactly what I intend to do. I don’t know why reading something about someone who makes all the wrong decisions would make me feel better about my life, but I think this is exactly what Aristotle meant when he said that tragedy should be cathartic. Also Richard is definitely ace as fuck and I will fight anyone who tries to say otherwise.

Henry VIII – First of all, Katharine deserved way better. Second of all, I feel like it really glossed over the part where he created the Anglican Church just so he could divorce her. Also there was some really shameless plugging of Queen Elizabeth at the end, so I’m guessing this was written during her reign, which would explain why Henry VIII doesn’t look as bad as he does literally everywhere else I’ve seen him (update: turns out it was written later). I seem to remember that he ended up killing Anne Boleyn and that didn’t happen in this play though I was kind of waiting for it to. I’ve really never read anything this positive about him, and that’s even counting the fact that he tossed Katharine aside after seeing Anne Boleyn once at a party. And I did find out that Buckingham’s real name is Henry, although it’s not like I needed another Henry to keep track of.

TRAGEDIES

Antony and Cleopatra – I really didn’t care for this one. Cleopatra seems like kind of a stereotype to me and I’m not terribly invested in either her or Antony. Romance isn’t really my thing unless it’s super compelling for some special reason or unless I like both the characters individually. This has neither of those qualifiers.

Coriolanus – I didn’t like this very much, even though it’s about Rome. Coriolanus is not a compelling figure to me; the whole premise is that he’s good at fighting but he’s also an asshole, and neither one of those things is interesting to me. Honestly the only part of this that isn’t extremely boring is Volumnia.

Hamlet – I hadn’t read this in a really long time and didn’t remember any of it, and I liked it more than I thought I would. It’s kind of gothic in a wonderful way, even though I know that’s not an appropriate term to use for something written at the time it was written. Honestly though, my liking for Hamlet as a character was severely diminished when he started making dirty comments to Ophelia, and she seemed way more sympathetic than I remember her being. The common theme in many of these tragedies seems to be a protagonist who is lost and overwhelmed and ends up lashing out because of it. The speeches in Hamlet are the best part for me by far, but yeah. As someone who likes language and anything dark, I like it.

Julius Caesar – This I quite liked; I think Brutus is a compelling character and it raises some interesting questions. It also contains the most passive-aggressive thing I’ve ever read. Although, during Act I when Cassius is trying to convince Brutus to kill Caesar, all I hear is “Brutus is just as nice as Caesar. Brutus is just as cute as Caesar, okay, people like Brutus just as much as they like Caesar.” Honestly I think Tina Fey purposely paraphrased Cassius’s lines when writing Mean Girls, which is pretty cool. I liked it when I auditioned for it and I’ve come to really love it, having been in it. I want to see more productions of this one.

King Lear – It’s grown on me over time, I guess. I do have some strong opinions on why Cordelia is actually kind of awful. I like Edmund and Regan and Cornwall, and Goneril have their moments, but none of these characters really get enough air time for me to like the play. What there is a lot of is Lear who is just depressing on multiple levels and his fool who annoys me with his overuse of the word “nuncle” even though I know it’s fairly normal for words in English to lose an /n/ at the beginning due to our articles like how “apron” used to be “napron” until people thought “a napron” was “an apron.” And there’s a lot of Edgar and Kent and Gloucester, none of whom I’m convinced to care about even though I have nothing against them. So overall I still think it is confusing and needlessly depressing, but I am slowly warming up to it. Like, I already know life is pointless, I don’t need something to tell me that like it’s some kind of revelation.

Macbeth – I really don’t understand Macbeth as a character. You think he’d be able to say “no” to murder seeing as he has no real interest in it. I don’t find it romantic at all that he does whatever crazy thing Lady Macbeth wants. I find it kind of disturbing, and certainly not something that reflects well on him. At first it seems like Lady Macbeth should just get rid of him and do everything herself if she’s going to be like that, and I don’t understand why she can’t bring herself to kill Duncan if she wants him dead so badly, and then she loses it halfway through the play and that’s always a let-down. Also isn’t this the one that has the line where it’s like “your father’s been murdered” -“oh, by whom?” and “what, you egg”? As funny as that is it doesn’t exactly speak volumes to Macbeth as having the greatest dialogue all the time. In conclusion, I want to like this play but I really don’t get what’s wrong with either Macbeth or Lady Macbeth and so I can’t really get into it.

Othello – This was always one of my favorites. I always thought Othello and Desdemona’s relationship was really beautiful and romantic in Act I but for some reason my liking of Othello never stops me from being intrigued by what Iago’s going to do next. There’s something appealing to me about being able to always say the right thing and having the self-confidence to make everyone do what you think they should do. That said, having now seen a Shakespeare villain who is manipulative (in an extremely different sort of way) but has motives and a personality, he seems really boring by comparison. I kind of get now how he’s just a plot device, and that does make Othello an even more sympathetic character. And it’s really heartbreaking how he thinks he’s not good enough for Desdemona and has to deal with his worst fears being confirmed after he’s had so much shit to deal with already. I think anyone would break.

Romeo and Juliet - I got tired of it a long time ago and honestly it’s not that good. It’s just kind of average. I get that people have to fall in love quickly in a play that can’t just go on for 10 hours but I still can’t bring myself to care about the characters. Juliet is mildly interesting but Romeo is just a boring person and I don’t care for him at all. Plus I feel like there’s a weird age difference between them considering she’s like 13 or 14 and he’s probably like 18. I’m probably just too ace for this play but I don’t get the appeal. (Update: I’ve now been in this play and I still don’t really get it. I don’t have anything against it but it doesn’t do too much for me either. I liked being in it a whole lot, but it wouldn’t be my top choice for something I want to watch).

Timon of Athens – I feel like there was the potential for this to be a good story about someone who kept giving people material things to get them to like him to the point of running himself into the ground (ha, literally) only to discover that doing that doesn’t actually make you real friends, but it never really came together for me. So good idea, not so sure about the execution, although my book thinks that Shakespeare only wrote part of it and Thomas Middleton wrote the rest so that probably has something to do with it.

Titus Andronicus – This has its moments but it’s not as violent as I thought it would be, which is not good for something that’s known for being violent. My first big problem with it is that Chiron and Demetrius get off way too easy. I was waiting the whole play for them to die horribly only to be let down. Being baked into pies hurts Tamora, not them, and I hate them so much that I’m out of fucks to give about her. My second big problem is that Titus is a selfish piece of shit. He fucking kills Lavinia because her condition is just too painful for him. He complains that he only has 5 children left but he kills two of them himself, on stage. I like Aaron in spite of myself, or at least I like a lot of his speeches; they’re a lot of fun to read. I was surprised that he wanted his child to live even if he couldn’t take care of it personally, but I have no idea how to feel about that because on the one hand I can see how it’s a redeeming quality, and so I like that there’s some effort to humanize him, but on the other hand I wish it was done a different way because that’s not something I have any basis to understand. All this said if I had the chance to see this performed, I admittedly would.

Troilus and Cressida – I’m confused because I spent most of this thinking it took place before the events of the Iliad when actually it was pretty much a different version of the same story, which is disappointing because as much as I love the Iliad, I already have the Iliad. As for Troilus and Cressida themselves, I was rolling my eyes when she thought she had to play hard to get, but then happy when he said that was never necessary and was just happy to be with her even though she thought she was embarrassing herself by expressing her feelings for him; he didn’t shame her for it and that perception was all in her head. But then she didn’t really have any choice but to go with Diomedes, so it’s not fair for Troilus to be mad at her. Plus they only just got together and they weren’t official or anything. He’s a bit of a dumbass, to be honest, even though he and Cressida have some sweet moments. I kind of like Thersites; he seems like my kind of guy. He hates lechery, doesn’t care for war, and thinks most of the Greek generals are full of themselves, which is pretty accurate. I like that he rejects the kind of masculinity most of them embrace where they just fight in order to get women. He thinks they’re the dumbest people ever for engaging in all of that, and frankly I think it’s pretty idiotic too. However, I don’t like that he makes fun of Achilles and Patroclus for being gay. There are already so many good reasons to make fun of Achilles.

ROMANCES

Winter’s Tale – I didn’t have any strong feelings about this until the end, but now I’m wondering where Hermione was for 16 years? I guess she stayed hidden somewhere, but how did she know when the right time to come back would be? Like that was some really good timing. I mean I guess I’m glad Leontes got his shit and part of his family together but to me that doesn’t really make for anything particularly memorable. And I don’t recall him actually apologizing to Hermione or Perdita, so he should really get on that.

Cymbeline – I wasn’t particularly expecting to like this, but I did. It had some of the same elements of the Winter’s Tale except it was way better and I liked the characters more – don’t get me wrong, it was still really…I’m not sure what the right word is, when all the male characters are assholes and they do awful things to Imogen and then she magically forgives them at the end, but at least I felt somewhat invested in her and her brothers, and there were some funny parts, but the part with the ghosts was really weird and I don’t know what to make of it. There are some weird parts in the Romances and I’m not feeling that.

Pericles – Not quite my cup of tea but I don’t hate it. I admit I don’t really like how it takes place over, what, decades? Plus I’ve never heard of this particular Pericles in my life. I totally thought it was going to be about the Athenian statesman. But I did like that it takes place partially in the Near/Middle East, even if it’s just the parts that were part of the Greek world (I’m guessing Hellenistic). But I liked the story well enough and I like that Pericles isn’t an asshole unlike Leontes or Cymbeline, and I like how Marina and Thaisa both were just dropped on a beach somewhere and by the time Pericles finds them they’re at the top of the societies they entered, and how the guy who was going to take Marina’s virginity was really embarrassed and gave her a bunch of money and was supportive when he found out she didn’t want to.

The Tempest – I actually enjoy this and I think it’s a fun play. Caliban is hilarious and I actually like that it turns out not to be a revenge story. Sometimes it’s nice to see someone be the bigger person and have everyone live, even if it’s not cathartic in the same way. There are some really cool interpretations out there but even on the surface I find it quite entertaining and I think there’s something to be said for something that makes me happy for no reason.

#shakespeare #I know people are going to want to fight me because I don't like Henry VI #but I can't with him #I shame to hear him speak #to be fair I've heard good things about him as a historical figure #and I know he was actually mentally ill #so everything I say is based solely off the plays I read #with no bearing on the real person

[almostfairytime]

SCENE II. Athens. QUINCE'S house.

SCENE II. Athens. QUINCE'S house.

Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING

QUINCE

Have you sent to Bottom's house ? is he come home yet?

STARVELING

He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt he is transported.

FLUTE

If he come not, then the play is marred: it goes not forward, doth it?

QUINCE

It is not possible: you have not a man in all Athens able to discharge Pyramus but he.

FLUTE

No, he hath simply the best wit of any handicraft man in Athens.

QUINCE

Yea and the best person too; and he is a very paramour for a sweet voice.

FLUTE

Enter SNUG

SNUG

Masters, the duke is coming from the temple, and there is two or three lords and ladies more married: if our sport had gone forward, we had all been made men.

FLUTE

Enter BOTTOM

BOTTOM

Where are these lads? where are these hearts?

QUINCE

Bottom! O most courageous day! O most happy hour!

BOTTOM

Masters, I am to discourse wonders: but ask me not what; for if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will tell you every thing, right as it fell out.

QUINCE

Let us hear, sweet Bottom.

BOTTOM

Exeunt

ACT VSCENE I. Athens. The palace of THESEUS.

Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, Lords and Attendants

HIPPOLYTA

'Tis strange my Theseus, that these lovers speak of.

THESEUS

More strange than true: I never may believe These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination, That if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy; Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear!

HIPPOLYTA

But all the story of the night told over, And all their minds transfigured so together, More witnesseth than fancy's images And grows to something of great constancy; But, howsoever, strange and admirable.

THESEUS

Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and HELENA

LYSANDER

More than to us Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed!

THESEUS

Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have, To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper and bed-time? Where is our usual manager of mirth? What revels are in hand? Is there no play, To ease the anguish of a torturing hour? Call Philostrate.

PHILOSTRATE

Here, mighty Theseus.

THESEUS

Say, what abridgement have you for this evening? What masque? what music? How shall we beguile The lazy time, if not with some delight?

PHILOSTRATE

Giving a paper

THESEUS

Reads

Reads

Reads

PHILOSTRATE

A play there is, my lord, some ten words long, Which is as brief as I have known a play; But by ten words, my lord, it is too long, Which makes it tedious; for in all the play There is not one word apt, one player fitted: And tragical, my noble lord, it is; For Pyramus therein doth kill himself. Which, when I saw rehearsed, I must confess, Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears The passion of loud laughter never shed.

THESEUS

What are they that do play it?

PHILOSTRATE

Hard-handed men that work in Athens here, Which never labour'd in their minds till now, And now have toil'd their unbreathed memories With this same play, against your nuptial.

THESEUS

And we will hear it.

PHILOSTRATE

No, my noble lord; It is not for you: I have heard it over, And it is nothing, nothing in the world; Unless you can find sport in their intents, Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain, To do you service.

THESEUS

Exit PHILOSTRATE

HIPPOLYTA

I love not to see wretchedness o'er charged And duty in his service perishing.

THESEUS

Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.

HIPPOLYTA

He says they can do nothing in this kind.

THESEUS

Re-enter PHILOSTRATE

PHILOSTRATE

So please your grace, the Prologue is address'd.

THESEUS

Flourish of trumpets

Enter QUINCE for the Prologue

Prologue

If we offend, it is with our good will. That you should think, we come not to offend, But with good will. To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Consider then we come but in despite. We do not come as minding to contest you, Our true intent is. All for your delight We are not here. That you should here repent you, The actors are at hand and by their show You shall know all that you are like to know.

THESEUS

This fellow doth not stand upon points.

LYSANDER

He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord: it is not enough to speak, but to speak true.

HIPPOLYTA

Indeed he hath played on his prologue like a child on a recorder; a sound, but not in government.

THESEUS

Enter Pyramus and Thisbe, Wall, Moonshine, and Lion

Prologue

Exeunt Prologue, Thisbe, Lion, and Moonshine

THESEUS

I wonder if the lion be to speak.

DEMETRIUS

No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses do.

Wall

In this same interlude it doth befall That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; And such a wall, as I would have you think, That had in it a crannied hole or chink, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, Did whisper often very secretly. This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth show That I am that same wall; the truth is so: And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.

THESEUS

Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?

DEMETRIUS

Enter Pyramus

THESEUS

Pyramus draws near the wall: silence!

Pyramus

Wall holds up his fingers

THESEUS

The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.

Pyramus

Enter Thisbe

Thisbe

O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans, For parting my fair Pyramus and me! My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones, Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.

Pyramus

I see a voice: now will I to the chink, To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face. Thisby!

Thisbe

My love thou art, my love I think.

Pyramus

Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace; And, like Limander, am I trusty still.

Thisbe

And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill.

Pyramus

Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.

Thisbe

As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.

Pyramus

O kiss me through the hole of this vile wall!

Thisbe

I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.

Pyramus

Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway?

Thisbe

Exeunt Pyramus and Thisbe

Wall

Exit

THESEUS

Now is the mural down between the two neighbours.

DEMETRIUS

No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning.

HIPPOLYTA

This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.

THESEUS

The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.

HIPPOLYTA

It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.

THESEUS

Enter Lion and Moonshine

Lion

You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, May now perchance both quake and tremble here, When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am A lion-fell, nor else no lion's dam; For, if I should as lion come in strife Into this place, 'twere pity on my life.

THESEUS

A very gentle beast, of a good conscience.

DEMETRIUS

The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw.

LYSANDER

This lion is a very fox for his valour.

THESEUS

True; and a goose for his discretion.

DEMETRIUS

Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose.

THESEUS

His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well: leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon.

Moonshine

This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;--

DEMETRIUS

He should have worn the horns on his head.

THESEUS

He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference.

Moonshine

This lanthorn doth the horned moon present; Myself the man i' the moon do seem to be.

THESEUS

This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man should be put into the lanthorn. How is it else the man i' the moon?

DEMETRIUS

He dares not come there for the candle; for, you see, it is already in snuff.

HIPPOLYTA

I am aweary of this moon: would he would change!

THESEUS

It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time.

LYSANDER

Proceed, Moon.

Moonshine

All that I have to say, is, to tell you that the lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog.

DEMETRIUS

Enter Thisbe

Thisbe

This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love?

Lion

Thisbe runs off

DEMETRIUS

Well roared, Lion.

THESEUS

Well run, Thisbe.

HIPPOLYTA

The Lion shakes Thisbe's mantle, and exit

THESEUS

Well moused, Lion.

LYSANDER

And so the lion vanished.

DEMETRIUS

Enter Pyramus

Pyramus

Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams; I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright; For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams, I trust to take of truest Thisby sight. But stay, O spite! But mark, poor knight, What dreadful dole is here! Eyes, do you see? How can it be? O dainty duck! O dear! Thy mantle good, What, stain'd with blood! Approach, ye Furies fell! O Fates, come, come, Cut thread and thrum; Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!

THESEUS

This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.

HIPPOLYTA

Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.

Pyramus

Stabs himself

Exit Moonshine

Dies

DEMETRIUS

No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one.

LYSANDER

Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing.

THESEUS

With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover, and prove an ass.

HIPPOLYTA

How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover?

THESEUS

Re-enter Thisbe

HIPPOLYTA

Methinks she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus: I hope she will be brief.

DEMETRIUS

A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better; he for a man, God warrant us; she for a woman, God bless us.

LYSANDER

She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.

DEMETRIUS

And thus she means, videlicet:--

Thisbe

Stabs herself

Dies

THESEUS

Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead.

DEMETRIUS

Ay, and Wall too.

BOTTOM

[Starting up] No assure you; the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company?

THESEUS

A dance

Exeunt

Enter PUCK

PUCK

Enter OBERON and TITANIA with their train

OBERON

Through the house give gathering light, By the dead and drowsy fire: Every elf and fairy sprite Hop as light as bird from brier; And this ditty, after me, Sing, and dance it trippingly.

TITANIA

Song and dance

OBERON

Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and train

PUCK

If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend: if you pardon, we will mend: And, as I am an honest Puck, If we have unearned luck Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, We will make amends ere long; Else the Puck a liar call; So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends.