Willow & Tara's A Midsummer Night's Dream by Chris Cook

Disclaimer: Based on characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer created by Joss Whedon and his talented minionators, and A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare. It's worth noting that, aside from minor changes and inserted in-jokes, the lines remain largely unchanged from the original - I wouldn't dare suggest that I could do better

Summary: Willow and Tara stray into the forest on a Midsummer's eve when fairies are about.

Giles: Now, fair Miss Calendar, our nuptial hour
draws on apace; four happy days bring in
Another moon; but I must say, how slow
This old moon wanes! She lingers my desires,
Like to a She-mantis preparing to mate,
Offering only illusion to her young male prey.

Jenny: Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights;
Four nights will quickly dream away the time;
And then the moon, and its resident demon
Safely bound therein, shall behold the night
Of our solemnities.

Giles: Go, Wesley,
Stir up the Athenian teens to merriments;
Awake their bored and lazy spirits to mirth;
Turn melancholy forth to the Bronze-
The pale companion is not for our pomp.-
[Exit Wesley]
Jenny, I woo'd thee with my bookish charm,
And won thy love despite accidentally causing
Thee to become a demon for a while;
But I will wed thee in another key,
With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling.

Ira: Full of vexation come I-
[Giles and Jenny share a 'what a surprise' look.]
-with complaint
Against my child, my daughter Willow. -
Stand forth Alexander. - My noble lord,
This man hath my consent to marry her; -
Stand forth Tara; - and, my gracious duke,
This hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child.
[Willow and Tara look at each other and giggle. Ira rounds on Tara.]
Thou, thou, Tara, thou hast given her rhymes,
And interchang'd love-tokens with my child;
Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung,
With feigning voice, this 'under thy spell' nonsense;
With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart;
Turned her obedience, which is due to me,
To stubborn harshness. - And, my gracious duke,
Be it so she will not here before your grace
Consent to marry with Alexander,
I beg the ancient privilege of Athens,
As she is my child I may dispose of her;
Which shall be either to this gentleman,
Or to the death of her art: the destruction
Of her spell-books and her consigned to a convent!

Giles: What say you Willow? Be advis'd, fair maid,
It is within your father's right to do as he has spoken.
Xander is a worthy gentleman.

Willow: So is Tara! Gentlewoman, I mean to say,
Thou knowest what I mean, that her virtue
Is no less than his.

Giles: In herself she is;
But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice,
The other must be held worthier.

Willow: I do entreat your grace to pardon me,
I know not by what power I am made bold,
Nor how it may concern my modesty
In such a presence here to plead my thoughts;
But I beseech your grace that I may know
The worst that may befall me in this case
If I refuse to wed Xander.

Giles: Your fate should then be to abjure
For ever the society of wicca.
Therefore, fair Willow, question your desires,
Know of your youth, examine well your blood,
Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice,
You can endure the livery of a nun.

Willow: If Tara's hand in marriage be not mine,
No other hardship would have power to mark me.
So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord,
Ere I will yield my life up
Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke
My soul consents not to give sovereignty.

Giles: Take time to pause; and by the next new moon, -
The sealing-day betwixt my love and me,
For everlasting bond of fellowship, -
Upon that day either prepare to suffer
For disobedience to your father's will;
Or else to wed Xander, as he would.

Xander: Relent, sweet Willow; - and, Tara, yield
Thy crazed title to my certain right.'

Tara: You have her father's love, Xander;
Let me have Willow's; and you marry him.

Tara: Really? My modesty has until now kept me
From voicing thoughts worthy of 'me-ow'.

Ira: Scornful Tara! True, he hath my love;
And what is mine my love shall render him;
And she is mine; -

Tara: I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he, -
By whatever system lower-middle-class
Counts as deriv'd, - and should thou value it,
Equally as well possess'd; my love is more than his;
My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd,
If not with masculinity, as Xander's;
And, which is more than all these boasts could be,
I am belov'd of beauteous Willow;
Why should I not prosecute my right -
And if it be that I am a woman, then I promise
Thy prejudice shall not matter when thou awake
Tomorrow in the form of a rat; And anyway,
Xander, I'll avouch it to his head,
Made love to D'Hoffryn's daughter, Anya,
And won her soul; and she, sweet demon, dotes,
Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry,
Upon this spotted and inconstant man.

Giles: To your meetings with Anya, I refer'd,
And with you I thought to have spoke thereof;
But, being over-full of self-affairs,
My mind did lose it. - But, Xander, come;
And come, Ira; you shall go with me;
I have some private schooling for you both. -
For you, fair Willow, look you arm yourself
To fit your fancies to your father's will,
Or else the law of Athens yields you up, -
Which by no means we may extenuate, -
To a life without the wiccan way. -
Come, my Jenny;
[Jenny frowns and turns away from Giles.]
What cheer, my love?
Xander, and Ira, go along.

Tara: How now, my love! Why is your cheek so pale?
How chance the roses there do fade so fast?

Willow: Belike for want of rain, which I could well
Sate them from the tempest of mine eyes.

Tara: Ah me! for aught that ever I could read,
Could ever hear by tale or legend,
The course of true love never did run smooth.

Willow: If, then, true lovers have been ever cross'd,
Then let us stand 'gainst the forms of destiny;
If this world be unkind to our love let us find another,
For no power of man or nature will make me love thee less,
Or compel me to observe the cruelties of foul fate.

Tara: A good persuasion; therefore, hear me, Willow.
I have a widow aunt, a dowager
Who hath no contact with my other family;
From Athens is her home remote seven leagues;
And she respects me as her daughter.
There, gentle Willow, may I marry thee;
And to that place the sharp Athenian law
Cannot pursue us. If thou lov'st me, then,
Steal forth thy father's house tomorrow night;
And in the wood a league without the town,
Where I did meet thee once during the night,
To do observance to a morn of May.

Willow: My good Tara!
I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow,
By his best arrow with the golden head,
By the simplicity of Venus' doves,
By that which knitteth souls and prosper loves,
In that same place thou hast appointed me,
Tomorrow truly will I meet with thee.

Anya: Call you me fair? that fair again unsay.
Xander loves your fair. O happy fair!
Your eyes are emerald; and your tongue's sweet air
More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear,
When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.
Sickness is catching; O, were favour so,
Yours would I catch, fair Willow, ere I go;
My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,
My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody,
In place of mine, which sing not but of tuneless duets
And song of bunnies that would woo no heart.
Were the world mine, Xander being bated,
The rest I'd give to be to you translated.
O, teach me how you look; and with what art
You sway the motion of Xander's heart.

Willow: Take comfort; he no more shall see my face;
Tara and myself will fly this place. -
Before the time I did Tara see,
Seem'd Athens like a paradise to me;
But now no longing can this place stir,
And all that is paradise for me, is her.

Tara: Anya, to you our minds we will unfold;
Tomorrow night, when Phoebe doth behold
Her silver visage in the watery glass,
Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, -
A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal, -
Through Athens' gates we have devis'd to steal.

Willow: And in the woods where once you and I
Upon fair primrose beds did attempt the spell
That would to you your locket return, -
Though that did not go so well, as I recall, -
Regardless, there my Tara and I shall meet;
And thence from Athens turn away our eyes,
To seek a life beyond its walls
Where our love do prevail over all.
Farewell, sweet demon; pray thou for us,
And good luck grant thee thy Xander! -
Keep word, Tara; we must starve our sight
From lovers' food, till morrow deep midnight.

Tara: I will, my Willow.
[Exit Willow.]
Anya, adieu;
As you on him, Xander dote on you!

Anya: How happy some o'er other some can be!
Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
But what of that? Xander thinks not so;
He will not know what all but he do know.
And as he errs, doting on Willow's eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities.
Things base and vile, holding no quality,
Love can transpose to form and dignity.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind.
Nor hath love's mind of any judgement taste;
Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste;
And therefore is love said to be a child,
Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd.
As waggish boys in game themselves forswear,
So the boy Love is perjur'd everywhere;
For ere Xander look'd on Willow's eyne,
He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine;
And when this hail some heat from Willow felt,
So he dissolv'd, and showers of oaths did melt.
I dearly desire that my own wishes I could answer,
For Xander's change doth give me cause to grieve.
And yet I find it not within myself to wish him ill,
For love's fool an I made, and cannot but love him still.
I will go tell him of fair Willow's flight;
Then to the wood will he tomorrow night
Pursue her; and for this intelligence
If I have thanks, it is a dear expense;
But herein mean I to enrich my pain,
To have his sight thither and back again.

Larry: -and woman's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the duke and duchess on his wedding-day at night.

Jonathan: First, good Larry Blaisdell, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors;

Larry: Marry, our play is - The most lamentable comedy, and most cruel tragedy of Angel and Cordelia.

Jonathan: A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry. - Now, good Larry, call forth your actors-

Jonathan: - we get it, Harmony, enough - Larry, call forth your actors by the scroll. - Masters, spread yourselves.

Jonathan: That will ask some tears in the true performing of it. If I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms; I will condole in some measure. Think you that I should brood, in this part? To the rest. - yet my chief humour is to play a tyrant; I could play William the Bloody rarely. - Now, name the rest of the players.

Devon: Nay, let me not play a woman; I have a beard coming; and the band would jest about it until the end of time.

Larry: That's all one; Devon, you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will.

Jonathan: And I may hide my face, let me play Cordelia too! I'll speak in a monstrous little voice. 'Ah, Angel, my lover dear; thy Cordelia dear! And lady dear!'

Larry: Scott Hope, you must play Angel's associate Lorne. - Michael Czajak, the wicca guy.

Larry: You, Angel's son Connor; myself, Cordelia's friend Fred; - Harmony Kendall the groupie, you, Skip, the unearthly warrior's part; - and, I hope, here is a play fitted.

Harmony: Have you Skip's part written? Pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study.

Larry: No kidding. But you may do it extempore, for it is nothing but standing around in an impressive outfit.

Jonathan: Let me play Skip too; I will be unearthly, that it will do any man's heart woe to see me; I will be as a creature of untold realms, that I will make the duke say, 'let him play again, for he is uncanny to behold!'

Larry: And you should do it too terribly you would frighten the duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were enough to hang us all.

Jonathan: I grant you, friends, if that you should frighten the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us; but I will aggravate my voice so that I will seem as sweet an unearthly warrior as did ever dwell upon forbidden paths; as gentle as any suckling dove-

Larry: You can play no part but Angel! For Angel is a sweet-faced man; a proper man, as one should see on a summer's day; a most lovely, gentleman-like man, provided he has not the company of a lady in his bed; therefore you needs must play Angel. - Masters, here are your parts; and I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by tomorrow night; and meet me in the palace wood; there we will rehearse; for if we meet in the city, we shall be dogg'd with company, and out devices known. In the meantime I will draw a bill of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you, fail me not.

[Many Fairies at play in the wood, among them DAWN, who approaches another Fairy and leans over her shoulder.]

Fairy: Over hill, over dale,
Through bush, through briar,
Over park, over pale,
Through flood, through fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the queen-regent,
To dew her orbs upon the green,
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours;
[She drains her drink and stands.]
I must go seek some dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in every cow-slip's ear.
Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone;
Our regent and all our elves come here anon.

Dawn: The queen doth keep her revels here tonight;
Take heed the regent come not within her sight.
For Buffy is passing fell and wrath,
Because the regent, among her possessions hath
A certain stake, pass'd down from old,
A weapon wielded by the bold.
And jealous Buffy would have the stake,
That her regent did presume to take.
But she perforce withholds the toy,
For, so she claims, it brings her joy;
And now they never meet in grove or green,
By fountain clear or spangled starlight sheen,
But they do square; that all their elves, for fear,
Creep into acorn cups, and hide them there.

Fairy: Either I mistake your shape and making quite,
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite
Call'd the Key; are you not she
That frights the maidens of the villagery;
Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern,
And bootless make the breathless teenagers churn;
And sometimes make the drink to bear no barm;
Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm?
Those that Little Bit call you, and sweet Dawn,
You do their work, and they shall have good luck;
Are you not she?

Dawn: Thou speak'st aright;
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
I jest to Buffy, and make her smile,
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal;
And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl,
In very likeness of a roasted crab;
And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob,
And on her wither'd dew-lap pour the ale.
And tailor cries, and falls into a cough;
And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh,
And waxen in their mirth, and sneeze, and swear
A merrier hour was never wasted there. -
But room, Fairy, here comes Buffy.

[The Fairies scatter as BUFFY, their Queen, appears. Lightning and thunder show in the sky. FAITH, Queen-Regent, enters with her Attendants.]

Faith: What, jealous Buffy! Fairies, skip hence;
I have forsworn her bed and company.

Faith: Then I must be thy lady too: but I know
When thou hast stol'n away from fairy-land,
And in the shape of mortal girl sat all day,
Playing on pipes of corn, and flirting
To amorous boys. Why art thou here,
Come from the farthest steep of India?
But that, forsooth, the bouncing Gypsy,
Who you admire, and count as friend,
To Giles must be wedded; and you come
To give their bed joy and prosperity.

Buffy: Not in person! For they are old, and that's gross.
But how can'st thou thus, for shame, Faith,
Glance at my credit with Jenny,
Knowing I know thy jealousy for the respect of Giles?

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

Buffy: Do you amend it then; it lies in you;
Why should Faith cross her Buffy?
I do but beg a little stake
To be my weapon.

Faith: Set your heart at rest;
The fairy-land buys not the weapon of me.
Her wielder was a slayer of my order;
And, in the spiced Indian air, by night.
Full often hath she gossip'd by my side;
And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands,
Marking the embarked traders on the flood;
When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive,
And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind;
Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait,
Following, - the weapon she gifted to me in her hand, -
Would imitate; and sail upon the land,
To fetch me trifles, and return again,
As from a voyage, rich with merchandise,
But she, being mortal, at the hand of Drusilla did die;
And for her sake I do bear this stake;
And for her sake I will not part with it.

Faith: Perchance till after Giles' wedding-day,
If you will patiently dance in our round,
And see our moonlight revels, go with us;
If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts.

Faith: Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away;
We shall chide downright if I longer stay.

Buffy: Well, go thy way; thou shalt not from this grove
Till I torment thee for this injury. -
My gentle Dawn, come hither; thou remember'st
Since once I sat upon a promontory,
And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back,
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath,
That the rude sea grew civil at her song,
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres
To hear the sea-maid's music.

Buffy: That very time I saw, - but thou couldst not, -
Flying between the cold moon and the earth-

Buffy: No, t'was Cuipid all arm'd; a certain aim he took
At a fair vestal, throned by the west;
And loos'd his arrow smartly from his bow,
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts;
But I might see young Cupid's fiery shot
Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon;
And the imperial votaress passed on,
In maiden-meditation, fancy-free.
Yes mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell;
It fell upon a little western flower, -
Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, -
And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
Fetch me that flower; the herb I show'd thee once;
The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid
Will make a man or woman madly dote
Upon the next live creature that it sees.
Fetch me this herb, and be thou here again
Ere the leviathan can swim a league.

Dawn: Well, that would be no great deed, since thou slew leviathan,
And he now rests in watery grave immobile.

Buffy: Having once this juice,
I'll watch Faith when she is asleep,
And drop the liquor of it in her eyes;
The next thing she waking looks upon, -
Be it on demon, zombie, or vampire, or ghost,
On meddling monkey, or on busy ape, -
She shall pursue it with the soul of love.
And ere I take this charm off from her sight, -
As I can take it with another herb,
I'll make her render up her stake to me.
But who comes here? I am invisible;
And I will overhear their conference.

Xander: I love thee not, therefore pursue me not.
Where is Tara and fair Willow?
The one I'll banish, the other banisheth me.
Thou told'st me they were stol'n into this wood,
And here I am, and wood within this wood,
Because I cannot meet with Willow.
Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.

Anya: You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant;
But yet you draw not iron, for my heart
Is true as steel. Leave you your power to draw,
And I shall have no power to follow you.

Xander: Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair?
Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth
Tell you I do not, nor I cannot love you?

Anya: And even for that do I love you the more.
I am your bunny; and, Xander,
The more you beat me, - as indeed bunnies should be used,
For they are vile things, - I will fawn on you;
Use me but as your bunny, spurn me, ignore me,
Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave,
Unworthy as I am, to follow you.
What worser place can I beg in your love,
And yet a place of high respect with me, -
Than to be used as you use your bunny?

Xander: I have told you before, use not that face with me;
For I am sick when I do look on thee.

Xander: You do impeach your modesty too much,
To leave the city, and commit yourself
Into the hands of one that loves you not;
To truth the opportunity of night,
And the ill counsel of a desert place,
With the rich worth of your virginity.

Anya: Your virtue is my privilege for that.
It is not night when I do see your face,
Therefore I think I am not in the night;
Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company;
For you, in my respect, are all the world;
Then how can it be said I am alone
When all the world is here to look on me?

Xander: I'll run from thee, and hide me in the brakes,
And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts.

Anya: The wildest hath not such a heart as you.
Run when you will, the story shall be chang'd;
Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase;
The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind
Makes speed to catch the tiger, - bootless speed,
When cowardice pursues and valour flies.

Xander: I will nto stay thy questions; let me go;
Or, if thou follow me, do not believe
But I shall cause thee mischief in the wood,
For there are many wild creatures about,
And though I would protect thee from them, detest thee though I do,
I would perforce run away and hide, for I fighteth like a girl.

Anya: Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field,
You do me mischief. Fie, Xander!
Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex;
We cannot fight for love as men may do;-

Anya: -We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo.
I'll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell,
To die upon the hand I love so well.

Buffy: Fare thee well, nymph; ere he do leave this grove,
Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love. -
[Re-enter Dawn.]
Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer.

Buffy: I pray thee, give it me.
I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows,
Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows;
Quite over-canopied with lush woodbine,
With sweet musk roses, and with eglantine;
There sleeps Faith sometime of the night,
Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight;
And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin,
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in;
And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes,
And make her full of hateful fantasies.
Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove
A sweet Athenian lady is in love
With a disdainful youth; anoint the youth's eyes;
But do it when the next thing so espied
May be the lady; thou shalt know the pair
By the Athenian garments they hath on.
Effect it with some care, that the nymph's love may prove
More fond on her than she upon her love;
And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow.
[Dawn smirks.]
Rooster, thou gutter-minded fairy.

Faith: Come, now a roundel and a fairy song;
Then, for the third part of a minute, hence;
Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds;
Some war with rere-mice for their leathern wings,
To make my small elves coats; and some keep back
The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots and wonders
At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep;
Then to your offices and let me rest.

[The Fairies sing. Faith dances along for a while, then lays down, slowly falling asleep.]

Buffy: What thou seest, when thou dost wake,
[Squeezes the flower on Faith's eyelids.]
Do it for thy true-love take;
Love and languish for its sake;
Be it ounce, or cat, or bear,
Pard, or boar with bristled hair,
In thy eye that shall appear
When thou wak'st, it is thy dear;
Wake when some vile thing is near.

Tara: Fair love, you faint with wandering in the wood;
And, to speak truth, I have forgot our way;
We'll rest us, Willow, if you think it good,
And tarry for the comfort of the day.

Willow: Be it so, Tara; find you out a bed,
For I upon this bank will rest my head.

Tara: One turf shall serve as pillow for us both;
One heart, one bed, two bosoms - each - and one troth.

Willow: Nay, good Tara; for my sake, my dear,
Lie farther off yet, do not lie so near;
This day and night have been long, and tired am I,
Yet no rest will I have if, in sleep, my wandering hands
Should find you within easy reach.

Tara: O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence;
Love takes the meaning in love's conference.
I mean, that my heart unto yours is knit;
So that but one heart we can make of it;
Two bosoms interchainèd with an oath;
So then two bosoms and a single troth.

Tara: Then by your side no bed-room me deny;
For lying so, Willow, I do not lie.

Willow: My Tara riddles very prettily; -
Now much beshrew my manners and my pride
If Willow meant to say that Tara lied.
But, gentle love, for love and courtesy
Lie farther off; in human modesty,
Such separation as may well be said
Becomes a virtuous lady and a maid;
So far be distant; and, good night, sweet love;
Thy love ne'er alter till this sweet world end.

Tara: Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I;
And then end world when I end loyalty;
Here is my bed; sleep give thee all his rest.

Dawn: Through the forest have I gone,
But Athenian found I none,
On whose eyes I might approve
This flower's force in stirring love.
Night and silence! Who is here?
Clothes of Athens she doth wear;
This is the youth, my mistress said,
Despised the Athenian maid;
And here the maiden, sleeping sound,
On the dank and dirty ground.
Pretty soul! She durst not lie
Near this... quite luscious lack-love,
Upon whose eyes I throw
All the power this charm doth owe;
When thou wak'st let love forbid
Sleep his seat on thy eyelid;
So awake after I take flight;
For I must now to Buffy's sight.

Anya: O, I am out of breath in this fond chase!
The more my prayer the lesser is my grace.
Happy is Willow, wheresoe'er she lies,
For she hath blessed and attractive eyes.
How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears;
If so, my eyes are oftener wash'd than hers.
No, no, I am as ugly as a bear;
For beasts that meet me run away for fear,
With exception of bunnies, from whom I flee;
Therefore no marvel though Xander
O, as a monster, flee my presence thus.
What wicked and dissembling glass of mine
Made me compare with Willow's sphery eyne? -
But who is here? - Tara! On the ground!
Tara, if you will, good lady, awake.

Tara: And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake.
[Waking.] Beauteous Anya! Nature here shows art,
That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.

Tara: Where is Xander? O, how fit a word
Is that vile name to perish on my sword!

Anya: Do not say so, Tara; say not so!
What though you love your Willow? Lord, what though?
Yes Willow still loves you; then be content.
And anyway, thou has no sword.

Tara: I can get one. And content with Willow? No; I do repent,
The time that I have with her spent.
Not Willow but Anya do I love;
My love's for you, my angelic dove.
The will of woman is by her reason sway'd;
And reason says you are the worthier maid.
Things growing are not ripe until their season;
So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason;
And touching now the point of human skill,
Reason becomes the marshal to my will,
And leads me to your eyes, where I o'erlook
Love's stories, written in love's richest book.

Anya: Well, I admit I'm flattered, maybe a little curious, -
But no, thou mock'st me, thou love'st me not!
Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born?
When at your hands did I deserve this scorn?
Is't not enough, is't not enough, young woman,
That I did never, no, nor never can
Deserve a sweet look from Xander's eye,
But you must flout my insufficiency?
Good troth, you do me wrong, - good sooth, you do -
In such disdainful manner me to woo.
But fare you well; perforce I must confess,
I thought you a lady of more true gentleness.
O, that a lady of one man refus'd,
Should of such as thou therefore be abus'd!

Tara: She sees not Willow; - Willow, sleep thou there;
And never mayst thou come Tara near!
For now my love for you hath waned,
I see thou would pursue me tirelessly,
And I would that thou forget me,
As I shall you. Thus be better for us both,
For you to Xander address your love and might;
And I, to honour Anya, and to be her knight!

Willow: [Starting.] Help me, Tara, help me! Do thy best
To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast!
Ah me, for pity! - What a dream was here!
Tara, look how I do quake with fear!
Methought a serpent eat my heart away,
And you sat smiling at his cruel prey. -
Tara! What, removed? Tara! Lady!
What, out of hearing? Gone? No sound, no word?
Alack, where are you? Speak, if you hear;
Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear.
No? - Then I well perceive you are not nigh;
Either death or you I'll find immediately.

Larry: Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn brake our tiring-house; and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the duke.

Jonathan: There are things in this comedy of Angel and Cordelia that will never please. First, Angel must assume a demonic visage, in madness, as he is sealed in his watery grave; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?

Jonathan: Not a whit; I have a device to make all well. Write me a prologue; and let the prologue seem to say, we will do no harm with our play, and no creature of true demonic nature shall be allowed to enter the house of the duke by our leave; and for the more better assurance, tell them that I Angel am not Angel, but Jonathan the amazing; this will put them out of fear.

Larry: Well, we shall have such a prologue; and it shall be written in eight and six.

Jonathan: Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves; to bring in, God shield us, an ethereal warrior among ladies is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful creature than such warriors living; and we ought to look to it.

Jonathan: - and half her face must be seen through the mask depicting Skip; and she herself must speak though, saying thus, or to the same defect, - "Ladies," or "Fair Ladies! I would wish you, or, I would request you, or, I would entreat you, not to fear, not to tremble; my life for yours. If you think I come hither as a warrior, it were pity of my life. No, I am no such thing; I am a mortal as other players are;" - and there, indeed, let her name her name, and tell them plainly she is Harmony the groupie.

Larry: I fear I will regret giving Harmony anything to say... Well, it shall be so. But there is two hard things; that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for, you know, Angel and Cordelia meet by moonlight.

Jonathan: She may be on to something; a calendar! Look in the almanack; find out moonshine.

Jonathan: Why, then we may arrange a series of mirrors, so that the moonlight, caught by a lens affixed to the roof, should shine down the chimney-pipe, through the kitchens, beneath the tables in the great hall, around the stage through a series or reflections,-

Jonathan: Or, indeed, we may leave a casement of the great chamber-window, where we play, open; and the moon may shine in.

Larry: Then, there is another thing; we must have a ship in the great chamber; for Angel doth meet his doom on the sea's bed from the deck of a ship, says the story.

Jonathan: No, Harmony, we can't. Some man or other must present ship; and let him have some wood, or some sail-cloth, or some rope rigging about him, to signify ship; or let him hold his arms thus, to indicate mast and deck, and from there may Angel be dispatched.

Larry: If that may be so, then all is well. Come, sit down, every mother's child, and rehearse your parts. Angel, you begin; when you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake; and so every one according to their cue.

Dawn: What hempen homespuns have we swaggering here,
So near the cradle of the fairy regent?
What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor;
An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause.

Jonathan (Angel): - odours savours sweet;
So doth thy breath, my dearest Cordelia dear. -
But hark, a voice! Stay thou but here awhile,
And by and by I will to thee appear.

Larry: Aye, marry, must you; for you must understand he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again.

Devon (Cordelia): Most radiant Angel, most lily white of hue,
Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier,
Most brisky juvenal, and eke most lovely vampire,
As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire,
I'll meet thee, Angel, on Verruca beach.

Larry: Verona beach, man; why, you must not speak that yet; that you answer to Angel. You speak all your part at once, cues and all. - Angel enters; your cue is past; it is, 'never tire'.

[When Jonathan speaks, the Players, being only mortal, hear monstrous Fyarl language.]

Larry: O monstrous! O strange! We are haunted! Pray, masters; fly, masters! - Help!

Dawn: I'll follow you; I'll lead you about a round,
Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier;
Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound,
A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire;
Ane neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn,
Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn.

Jonathan: Why do they run away? This is a knavery of them to make me afeard. I see their knavery; this is to make an ass of me; to fright me, if they could. But will not stir from this place, do what they can; I will walk up and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid.

Faith: What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?
I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again;
Mine ear is enamour'd of thy note.
So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape;
And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me,
On the first view, to say, I swear, I love thee.

Jonathan: Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that; and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days; the more the pity that some honest neighbours will not make them friends.

Jonathan: Not so, neither; but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn.

Faith: Out of this wood do not desire to go;
Thou shalt remain here whether thou wilt or no.
[Faith takes Jonathan by the neck.]
Agreed?

Faith: [Releasing him.]
I am a spirit of no common rate, -
The summer still doth tend upon my state;
And I do love thee; therefore, go with me,
I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee;
And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep,
And sing, while thou no pressed flowers dost sleep;
And I will purge thy mortal grossness so
That thou shalt like an airy spirit go. -
Eve! Violet! Rona! And Chloe!

Faith: Be kind and courteous to this gentle-man;
Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes;
Feed him with apricots and dewberries,
With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries;
The honey bags steal from the humble-bees,
And, for night-tapers, crop their waxen thighs,
And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes,
To have my love to bed and to arise;
And pluck the wings from painted butterflies,
To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes;
Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.

Faith: Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower.
The moon, methinks, looks with a watery eye;
Lamenting some enforced chastity.
Tie up my love's...
[She thinks a moment.]
...tongue, bring him silently.

Buffy: I wonder if Faith be awak'd;
Then what it was that next came to her sight,
Which she must dote on in extremity.
[Enter DAWN.]
Here comes my messenger. - How now, mad spirit?
What night-rule now about this haunted grove?

Dawn: Thy lady with a monster is in love.
Near to her close and consecrated bower,
While she was in her dull and sleeping hour,
A crew of patches, rude mechanicals,
That work for bread upon Athenian stalls,
Were met together to rehearse a play
Intended for great Giles' nuptial day.
The shallowest thickskin of that barren sort
Who Angel presented in their sport,
Forsook his scene and enter'd in a brake;
When I did him at this advantage take,
A Fyarl Demon's aspect I fixed on his person;
Anon, his Cordelia must be answered,
And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy,
As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye,
Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort,
Rising and cawing at the gun's report,
Sever themselves, and madly sweep the sky,
So at his sight away his fellow fly;
And at our stamp here o'er and o'er one falls;
He murder cries, and help from Athens calls.
Their sense, thus weak, lost with their fears, thus strong,
Made senseless things begin to do them wrong;
For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch;
Some sleeves, some hats; from yielders all things catch.
I led them on in this distracted fear,
And left sweet Angel translated there;
When in that moment, - so it came to pass, -
Faith wak'd, and straightaway lov'd the ass.

Dawn: I would not have my lady jealous of such a thing;
So chose I a Fyarl, for their lack of...
[She coughs.]
...'adornment'.

Buffy: This falls out better than I could devise.
But hast thou yet latch'd the Athenian's eyes
With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do?

Dawn: I took her sleeping, - that is finish'd too, -
And the Athenian woman by her side;
That, when she wak'd, of force she must be eye'd.

Buffy: Good work, my fairy, all is... say'st thou 'she'?
[Enter XANDER and WILLOW.]
Stand close; this is the same Athenian.

Xander: O, why rebuke you him that loves you
Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe?

Willow: Now I but chide, but I should use thee worse;
For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse.
If thou hast harmed Tara in her sleep, -

Willow: - Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep,
And kill me too.
The sun was not so true unto the day
As she to me; would she have stol'n away
From sleeping Willow? I'll believe as soon
This whole earth may be bor'd; and that the moon
May through the centre creep, and so displease
Her brother's noontides with the antipodes,
And should I not find Tara darn soon I'll make it happen!

Xander: You piece me through the heart with your stern cruelty;
Yet you, in so doing, look as bright, as clear,
As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere.

Willow: What's this to my Tara? Where is she?
Ah, good Xander, wilt thou give her to me?

Willow: Out, dog! Out, cur! Thou driv'st me past the bounds
Of maiden's patience. Hast thou harmed her, then?
Henceforth be never number'd among men!

Xander: You spend your passion on a mispris'd mood;
I am not guilty of Tara's absence;
Nor is she harm'd, for aught that I can tell.

Willow: How about not having to use a mouse-wheel to keep fit for the rest of your life?

Xander: There is no following her in this fierce vein;
Here, therefore, for awhile I will remain.
So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow
For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe;
Which now in some light measure it will pay,
If for his tender here I make some stay.

Buffy: What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite,
And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight!
Of thy misprison must perforce ensue
Some true-love turn'd, and not a false turn'd true.

Dawn: Then fate o'er-rules, that, one man
A million fail, confounding oath on oath.

Buffy: About the wood go, swifter than the wind,
And Anya of Athens look thou find;
All fancy-sick she is, and pale of cheer,
With sighs of love, that cost the fresh blood dear.
By some illusion see thou bring her here;
I'll charm his eyes against she do appear.

Buffy: Flower of this purple dye,
Hit with Cupid's archery,
Sink in apple of his eye!
When his love he doth espy,
Let her shine as gloriously
As the Venus of the sky. -
When thou wak'st, if she be by,
Beg of her for remedy.

Dawn: Captain of our fairy band,
Anya of Athens is here at hand,
And the youth mistook by me
Pleading for a lover's fee;
Shall we their fond pageant see?
Lady, what fools these mortals be!

Buffy: And whose fault is that?
Stand aside; the noise they make
Will cause Xander to awake.

Tara: Why should you think that I should woo in scorn?
Scorn and derision never come in tears.
Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born,
In their nativity all truth appears.

Tara: How can these things in me seem scorn to you,
Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?

Anya: You do advance your cunning more and more.
When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray!
[Buffy and Dawn grab Tara and haul her into the bushes.]
These vows are Willow's; will you give her o'er?
Weigh oath with oath and you will nothing weigh;
Your vows to her and me, put in two scales,
Will even weigh; and both as light as tales.
[She looks around.]
Tara?

Xander: To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?
Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!

Xander: That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow,
Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow
When thou hold'st up thy hand; O let me kiss
This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!

Anya: O spite! O hell! I see you are all bent
To set against me for your merriment.
If you were civil, and knew courtesy,
You would not do me thus much injury.
Can you not hate me, as I know you do,
But you must join in souls to mock me too?
If you were good, as good you are in show,
You would not use a gentle lady so;
To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts,

Anya: When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.
You both are rivals, and love Willow;
And now both rivals, to mock Anya;
A trim exploit, a manly enterprise,
To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes
With your derision! None of noble sort
Would so offend a virgin- well, a lady, and extort
A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport.

Xander: Tara, keep thy Willow; I will
If e'er I lov'd her, all that love is past.
My heart with her but as a guest-wise sojourn'd;
And now to Anya is it home return'd.
There to remain.

Xander: Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,
Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear. -
Look where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear.

Willow: Dark night, that from the eye his function takes,
The ear more quick of apprehension makes;
Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense,
It pays the hearing double recompense; -
Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound.
But why unkindly didst thou leave me so?

Tara: Tara's love, so I thought, did draw her away,
Yet the sight of thine eyes would have me stay.
Beneath my bosom lie two hearts, it seems;
One that I think loves thee still;
Yet another that came'st to me as from a dream,
And to Anya doth entreat me turn my will.

Anya: Lo, she is one of this confederacy!
Now I perceive they have conjoin'd all three
To fashion this false sport in spite of me.
Injurious Willow! Most ungrateful maid!
Have you conspir'd, have you with these contriv'd
To bait me with this foul derision?
Is all the counsel that we two have shar'd,
The sister's vows, the hours that we have spent,
When we have chid the hasty-footed time
For parting us, - O, is all forgot?
All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence?
And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
To join with men in scorning your poor friend?
It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly;
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,
Though I alone do feel the injury.

Willow: I am amazed at your passionate words;
I scorn you not; it seems that you scorn me.

Anya: Have you not sent Tara, as in scorn,
To follow me, and praise my eyes and face?
And made your other love, Xander, -
Who even but now did spurn me from his side, -
To call me goddess, nymph, divine, and rare,
Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this
To her he hates? And wherefore doth Tara
Deny your love, so rich within her soul,
And tender me, forsooth, affection,
But by your setting on, by your consent?
For I know, Willow, no power of mortal thought
Could her love for you distort.
[Buffy glares at Dawn.]
What though I be not so in grace as you,
So hung upon with love, so fortunate;
But miserable most, to love unlov'd?
This you should pity, rather than despise.

Anya: Ay, do perséver, counterfeit sad looks,
Make mows upon me when I turn my back;
Wink at each other; hold the sweet jest up;
This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled.
If you have any pity, grace, or manners,
You would not make me such an argument.
But, fare ye well; 'tis partly mine own fault;
Which death, or absence, soon shall remedy.

Xander: Stay, gentle Anya; hear my excuse;
My love, my life, my soul, fair Anya!

Anya: Have you no modesty, no maiden shame,
No touch of bashfulness? What! Will you tear
Impatient answers from my gentle tongue?
Fie, fie! You counterfeit, you puppet, you!

Willow: Puppet! Why so? Ay, that way goes the game.
Now I perceive that she hath made compare
Between our statures; she hath urg'd her height;
And with her personage, her tall personage,
Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with her. -
And are you grown so high in her esteem
Because I am so dwarfish and so low?
How low am I, thou painted maypole? Speak;
How low am I? I am not yet so low
But that my nails can reach into thine eyes!

Anya: Get you gone, you dwarf; you bead, you acorn;
You minimus, of hind'ring knot-grass made!

[Xander sits on a log and watches. Anya crawls out of the pool and shoves Willow away.]

Anya: I will not trust you! I;
Not longer stay in your curst company.
Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray;
My legs are longer though, to run away.

Buffy: This is thy negligence; still thou mistak'st,
Or else commit'st thy knaveries wilfully.

Dawn: Believe me, queen of shadows, I mistook.
Did you not tell me I should know the youth
By the Athenian garments? And so I did;
And so far blameless proves my enterprise,
That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes.

Buffy: If you weren't my sister...
Tou seest these lovers seek a place to fight;
Hie therefore, Dawnie, overcast the night;
The starry welkin cover thou anon
With drooping fog, as black as Acheron
And lead these testy rivals so astray,
As one come not within another's way.
And from each other look thou lead them away,
Till o'er their brows come a peaceful sleep
With leaden legs and batty wings to creep;
Then crush this herb into Tara's - Tara's! - eye;
Whose liquor hath this virtuous property,
To take from thence all error with his might,
And make her eyeballs roll with wonted sight.
When they next wake, all this derision
Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision;
And back to Athens shall the lovers wend,
With league whose date till death shall never end.
Whiles I in this affair do thee employ,
I'll to my queen, and beg her pointy toy;
And then I will her charmed eye release
From monster's view, and all things shall be peace.
Go!

[Dawn hurries away, and casts a dark fog over the wood. She leads the lovers round about until they fall asleep, close by each other yet hidden by fog.]

Dawn: On the ground
Sleep sound;
I'll apply
To your eye,
Gentle lover, remedy.
[Squeezing the flower on Tara's eyes.]
When thou wak'st,
Thou tak'st
True delight
In the sight
Of thy former lady's eye;

Faith: Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed,
While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,
And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head,
And kiss thy armoured ears, my gentle joy.

Jonathan: Violet, good lady, get your weapons in your hand and hunt me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and, good lady, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, lady; and good lady, have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loath to have you over-flown with honey.

Jonathan: I have a reasonable good ear in music; let us have the tongs and the bones.

Jonathan: Truly... the bones of mortals and lesser demons would not go astray. Methinks I have a great desire to rampage about destroying the world of men. Odd that I should think so.

Faith: Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms.
Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away.
So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle
Gently entwist, - the female ivy so
Enrings the barky fingers of the elm.
O, how I love thee! How I dote on thee!

Buffy: Welcome, good Dawn. Seest thou this sweet sight?
Her dotage not I do begin to pity.
For, meeting her of late behind the wood,
Seeking sweet savours for this hateful fool,
I did upbraid her, and fall out with her;
For she his carapaced temples then had rounded
With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers;
And that same dew, which sometime on the buds
Was wont to smell like round and orient pearle,
Stood now within the pretty flow'rets' eyes,
Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail.
When I had, at my pleasure, taunted her,
And she, in mild terms, begg'd my patience,
I then did ask of her her beloved stake;
Which straight she gave to me, and her fairy sent
To bear it to my bower in fairy-land.
And now I have Mr Pointy, yet I feel no joy
In this victory of mine. I will undo
This hateful imperfection of her eyes.
And, gentle Dawn, take this transformed skin
From off the form of this Athenian swain;
That he awaking when the other do,
May all to Athens back again repair,
And think no more of this night's accidents
But as the fierce vexation of a dream.
But first I will release my fairy queen.
Be as thou wast wont to be;
[Touching her eyes with an herb.]
See as thou wast wont to see;
Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower
Hath such force and blessed power.
Now, my Faith; wake you, my sweet regent.

Faith: My Buffy! What visions have I seen!
Methought I was enamour'd of a demon.

Faith: How came these things to pass?
O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now!

Buffy: Silence awhile. - Dawn, take off this creature's mask.
Faith, music call; and strike more dead
Than common sleep, of all these five, the sense.

Buffy: Come, my queen, take hands with me,
And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.
Now thou and I are new in amity,
And will to-morrow midnight solemnly
Dance in Duke Giles' house triumphantly,
And bless it to all fair posterity;
There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be
Wedded, with Giles, all in jollity.

Buffy: Then, my regent, in silence sad,
Trip we after the night's shade;
We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wand'ring moon.

Faith: Come, my lady; and in our flight,
Tell me how it came this night
That I sleeping here was found,
With these mortals on the ground.

Giles: Go, one of you, find out the forester; -
For now our observation is perform'd;
And since we have the vaward of the day,
My love shall hear the music of the hounds, -
Uncouple in the western valley; go; -
Despatch, I say, and find the forester. -
We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top,
And mark the musical confusion
Of hounds and echo in conjunction.
[Jenny pointedly ignores.]
My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
So flew'd, so sanded; and their heads are hung -
[Jenny spurs her horse and rides off to the wood's edge.]
- Indeed.

[More horns sound. Giles is called over to the wood's edge, where Ira has found something covered in a drift of leaves.]

Ira: My lord, this is my daughter Willow asleep;
And this Tara;
[He looks elsewhere.]
This Xander is;
This Anya, old D'Hoffryn's Anya;
I wonder of their being here together.

Giles: No doubt, they rose up early to observe
The rite of May; and, hearing our intent,
Came here in grace of our solemnity, -
But speak, Ira; is not this the day
That Willow should give answer of her choice?

Giles: Good-morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past;
Begin these wood-birds but to couple now?

[There is a hurried putting-on of shirts and skirts, except for Anya who doesn't bother.]

Giles: I know you two are rival enemies;
How comes this gentle concord in the world,
That hatred is so far from jealousy
To sleep mere metres apart, and fear no enmity?

Tara: My lord, I shall reply amazedly,
Half 'sleep, half waking; but as yet, I swear,
I cannot truly say how I came here;
But, as I think, - for truly would I speak -
And now I do bethink me, so it is, -
I came with Willow hither; our intent
Was to be gone from Athens, where we might be
Without the peril of Athenian law.

Ira: Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough;
I beg the law, the law upon her head. -
They would have stol'n away, they would, Xander,
Thereby to have defeated you and me;
You of your wife, and me of my consent, -
Of my consent that she should be your wife.

Xander: My lord, fair Anya told me of their stealth,
Of this their purpose hither to this wood;
And I in fury hither follow's them,
Fair Anya in fancy following me.
But, my good lord, I wot not by what power, -
But by some power it is, - my love to Willow
Melted as doth the snow - seems to me now
As the remembrances of an idle gawd
Which in my childhood I did dote upon;
And all the faith, the virtue of my heart,
The object and pleasure of mine eye,
Is only Anya. To her, my lord,
Was I betroth'd ere I saw Willow;
But, like in sickness, did I loathe this food;
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
Now do I wish it, love it, long for it,
And will for evermore be true to it.

Giles: Fair lovers, you are fortunately met;
Of this discourse we more will hear anon, -
Ira, I will overbear your will;
[Jenny perks up.]
For in the temple, by and by with us,
These couples shall eternally be knit.
And, for the morning now is something worn,
Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside, -
Away with us to Athens three and three,
We'll hold a feast in great solemnity. -
Come, Jenny.

Xander: These things seem small and undistinguishable,
Like far-off mountains turned into clouds.

Willow: Methinks I see these things with parted eye,
When everything seems doable.

Anya: So methinks;
And I have found Xander like a jewel.
Mine own, as I had dream'd.

Xander: It seems to me
That yet we sleep, we dream. - Do you not think
The duke was here, and bid us follow him?

Jonathan: When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer; - my next is, Most fair Angel. - Heigh-ho! - Larry Blaisdell! Devon, the lead singer! Michael the Wicca guy? Scott? God's my life, stolen hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream - past the wit of man to say what dream it was. - Man is but a creature if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was - there is no man can tell what. But man is a parched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I was. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen; man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, not his heart to report what my dream was. I will go to Larry Blaisdell to write a ballad of this dream, that Devon may sing it, perhaps before the duke; it shall be called... Jonathan's Dream, because an unassuming title befits it best.

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

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

Larry: Yes, and the best person too; and he is a very paramour for a sweet voice.

Harmony: 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 rich!

Devon: O sweet Jonathan! Thus hath he lost sixpence a-day during his life; he could not have 'scaped sixpence a-day; an the duke had not given him sixpence a-day for playing Angel, I'll be hanged; he would have deserved it; sixpence a-day in Angel, or nothing.

Jonathan: 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 everything, right as it fell out.

Jonathan: Not a word of me. All that I will tell you is, that the duke hath dined. Get your apparel together; good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your pumps; -
[Harmony checks her shoes.]
- meet presently at the palace; every man look over his part; for, the short and the long is, out play is preferred. In any case, let Cordelia have clean linen; and let not him that plays Skip pare his nails, for they shall hang out for the creature's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions nor garlick; for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not doubt but to hear them say it is a sweet comedy. No more words; away! Go, away!

Giles: 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 demons than all hells 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 a 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?

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

Giles: Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth. -
Joy, gentle friends! Joy and fresh days of love
Accompany your hearts!

Giles: 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 Wesley.

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

Wesley: There is a brief how many sports are ripe;
Make choice of which your highness will see first.
[Giving a paper.]

Giles: [Reads.]
The battle with the Hound of the Baskervilles, to be sung
By an Irish half-demon to the harp.
We'll none of that; that I have told my love,
In glory of my kinsman Sherlock Holmes.
The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.
That is an old device, and it was play'd
When I from Rome came last a conquerer,
The thrice-three Muses mourning for the death
Of learning, late deceas'd in beggary.
That is some satire, keen and critical,
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.
A tedious brief scene of heroic Angel,
And his love Cordelia; very tragical mirth.
Merry and tragical! Tedious and brief!
That is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord?

Wesley: 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 Angel therein doth become entomb'd;
Which when I saw rehears'd, I must confess,
Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
The passion of loud laughter never shed.

Wesley: Hard-handed men that work in Athens here,
And one woman of questionable virtue,
Which never labour'd in their minds till now,
And now have toil'd their unbreath'd memories
With this same play against your nuptial.

Wesley: Good, then I shall- what? 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.

Giles: I will hear that play;
For never anything can be amiss
When simpleness and duty tender it.
Go, bring them in; and take your places, ladies.

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

Giles: The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing.
Our sport shall be to take what they mistake;
And what poor duty cannot do,
Noble respect takes it in might, not merit.
Where I have come, great clerks have purposed
To greet me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears,
And, in conclusion, dumbly have broken off,
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet,
Out of this silence yet I pick'd a welcome
And in the modesty of fearful duty
I read as much as from the rattling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity
In least speak most to my capacity.

Prologue (haltingly): 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 content 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.

Tara: Yet a good moral, my lord; it is not enough to speak, but to speak true.

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

Giles: His speech was like a tangled chain, wasn't it? Nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?

[Enter JONATHAN as ANGEL, DEVON as CORDELIA, HARMONY as SKIP, MICHAEL as CONNOR, and SCOTT as the GARDEN of the hotel (with a pot-plant tied to his head).]

Prologue: Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show;
But wonder on, till truth make all things plain.
This man is Angel, if you would know,
Heroic vampire endowed with human soul;
This beauteous lady Cordelia is, certain.
This man, with pot-plant attached, doth present
The garden of the hotel wherein Angel makes his home,
And in which garden, hidden from the sight of others,
He and his lady whisper, at the which let no man wonder,
And by their concealment did they seek to escape
The censure of their allies, for risking the banishment
Of Angel's soul, in the event that he and his lady did...
Embarrassed pause.]
And anyway, they shall arrange to meet at Verona Beach.
This grisly beast, which by name Skip hight,
The trusty Cordelia, coming first by night,
Did transport away, or rather did elevate;
And as she rose, so her purse she did fall;
And comes Angel, sweet youth and tall,
And finds his trusty Cordelia's mantle fallen;
Whereat in despair he is condemned by unfaithful son
To life everlasting, inescapable, at the bottom of the ocean deep,
Forever there to wait. For all the rest,
Let Skip, Connor, Garden, and lovers twain
At large discourse while here they do remain.

Garden: In this same interlude it doth befall
That I, one Scott by name, present garden tall;
And such a garden as I would have you see
That had in it a secluded palm-leaved tree,
Behind which the lovers, Angel and Cordelia,
Did whisper often very secretly.
This pot-plant perched ungainly on my head doth show
That I am that same garden; the truth is so;
And this the tree's trunk is, right and sinister,
At which the fearful lovers are to whisper.

Angel: O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black!
O night, which ever art when day is not!
O night, O night, alack, alack, alack,
I fear my Cordelia's promise is forgot! -
And thou, O tree, O sweet, O lovely tree,
That stand'st between us and our colleagues' sight;
Thou tree, O tree, O sweet and lovely tree,
Show me thy fronds, to blink through with mine eyne.
[Garden ducks so Angel can see through the leaves of the pot-plant.]
Thanks, courteous tree; Jove shield thee well for this!
But what see I? No Cordelia do I see.
O wicked tree, through whom I see no bliss;
Curst be thy bark for thus deceiving me!

Angel: No, in truth, sir, he should not. Deceiving me is Cordelia's cue; she is to enter now, And I am to spy her through the fronds of the tree. You shall see it will fall pat as I told you. - Yonder she comes.

Cordelia: O tree, -
[Devon's soprano is not good.]
- full often hast thou heard my moans,
For parting my fair Angel and me;
My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy bark.

Angel: I see a voice; now will I to the tree,
To spy an I can hear my Cordelia's face.
Cordelia!

Angel: Think what you will, I am thy lover's grace;
And like Limander am I trusty still.

Garden: Thus have I, garden, my tree discharged so;
And, being done, thus garden away doth go.

Skip: You, ladies, whose gentle hearts do fear,
The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,
May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here,
[The ladies are stifling their giggles at Harmony's delivery.]
When demon rough in wildest rage doth appear.
Then know that I, one Harmony, the actress, am
A demon fell, nor else no demon's dam;
For if I should as demon come in strife
Into this place, 'twere pity of my life.

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

Giles: Her discretion, I am sure, cannot carry her valour; for the goose carries not the fox.

Connor: I do the vampire-child Connor present;
Myself enrag'd at the death of my father -
He being not Angel, you see, but the man who rais'd
Me as a child, and so I call 'father' -
And whom I now mourn, and whose death
I blame on Angel, who be my true father.

Connor: All that I have to say, is to tell you that I am Connor; this -
[Enter Scott, carrying ropes and a stick to represent the mast of a ship.]
My ship; this -
[Enter Larry painted grey, as if metal.]
My big metal box; and this dog, my dog.

[Skip throws glitter over Cordelia, then slings her over her shoulder and carries her off.]

[Cordelia drops her purse as Skip carries her off to a higher plane of existence, stage right.]

Angel: Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny - but not too sunny! - beams;
I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright;
For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering streams,
I trust to taste of truest Cordelia's 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 handbag good,
What! Covered in demon-glitter?
Approach, ye furies fell!
[Connor approaches.]
O fates! Come, come;
Cut thread and thrum;
Quail, rush, conclude, and quell!

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

Angel: O wherefore, nature, didst thou demons frame?
Since demon vile hath here deflower'd my dear; -

Angel: Which is - no, no - which was the fairest dame
That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheer.

Angel: Come, tears, confound;
Out, child, and wound
The pap of Angel;
[Connor hauls Angels onto his 'ship'.]
Ay, that left pap,
Where heart doth hop; -
Well, it would, if it did hop at all
It would be just there, to the left; -
[Connor wraps Big Metal Box's arms around Angel.]
Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.
Now am I dead,
Now am I fled,
Confined for all eternity;
My soul never shall reach the sky;
Tongue, lose thy light!
Moon, take thy flight!
Now die, die, die, die, die.

[Connor pushes Big Metal Box and Angel off the ship. Exit Connor. Enter Skip, still carrying Cordelia.]

Cordelis: Speak, speak. Quite dumb?
Dead, moreso? A tomb
Must cover thy sweet eyes.
[Devon is actually doing a decent job of acting.]
These lily brows,
This cherry nose,
These yellow cowslip cheeks,
Are gone, are gone;
Lovers, make moan!
His eyes were green as leeks.
O creatures from high,
Come, come to me,
With hands as pale as milk;
Lay them in gore,
Since you have shore
With shears his thread of silk.
Tongue, not a word; -
Come, trusty demon;
Come, warrior, carry me
From this earth, where I wish
No longer to dwell;
And farewell, friends; -
Thus Cordelia ends;
Adieu, adieu, adieu.

[Skip carries Cordelia away. There is a loud crash off-stage as Harmony collapses. The assembled guests applaud the Players as they return to take their bows.]

Giles: The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve; -
Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time.
I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn,
As much as we this night have overwatch'd.
This comic tragedy play hath well beguil'd
The heavy gait of night. - Sweet friends, to bed. -
A fortnight hold we this solemnity,
In nightly revels and new jollity.

[Enter DAWN, BUFFY, FAITH, and attendant Fairies. Buffy and Faith cast fairy-dusts over the Palace for good fortune to all those inside - even the Players making their way out the gate, towards their homes - and leave hand in hand. Exeunt all save Dawn.]

Dawn: 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'm an honest sprite,
If we have unearned flight
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Key a liar call;
So good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Dawn shall restore amends.

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