prompt:
Chapter: SCENE II.
Another part of the wood

Enter OBERON

  OBERON. I wonder if Titania be awak'd;
    Then, what it was that next came in her eye,
    Which she must dote on in extremity.

                          Enter PUCK

    Here comes my messenger. How now, mad spirit!
    What night-rule now about this haunted grove?
  PUCK. My mistress 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 Theseus' nuptial day.
    The shallowest thickskin of that barren sort,
    Who Pyramus presented, in their sport
    Forsook his scene and ent'red in a brake;
    When I did him at this advantage take,
    An ass's nole I fixed on his head.
    Anon his Thisby 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 fellows 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 Pyramus translated there;
    When in that moment, so it came to pass,
    Titania wak'd, and straightway lov'd an ass.
  OBERON. 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?
  PUCK. I took him sleeping- that is finish'd too-
    And the Athenian woman by his side;
    That, when he wak'd, of force she must be ey'd.

                 Enter DEMETRIUS and HERMIA

  OBERON. Stand close; this is the same Athenian.
  PUCK. This is the woman, but not this the man.
  DEMETRIUS. O, why rebuke you him that loves you so?
    Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
  HERMIA. Now I but chide, but I should use thee worse,
    For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse.
    If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep,
    Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep,
    And kill me too.
    The sun was not so true unto the day
    As he to me. Would he have stolen away
    From sleeping Hermia? 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 noontide with th' Antipodes.
    It cannot be but thou hast murd'red him;
    So should a murderer look- so dead, so grim.
  DEMETRIUS. So should the murdered look; and so should I,
    Pierc'd through the heart with your stern cruelty;
    Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear,
    As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere.
  HERMIA. What's this to my Lysander? Where is he?
    Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?
  DEMETRIUS. I had rather give his carcass to my hounds.
  HERMIA. Out, dog! out, cur! Thou driv'st me past the bounds
    Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then?
    Henceforth be never numb'red among men!
    O, once tell true; tell true, even for my sake!
    Durst thou have look'd upon him being awake,
    And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave touch!
    Could not a worm, an adder, do so much?
    An adder did it; for with doubler tongue
    Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.
  DEMETRIUS. You spend your passion on a mispris'd mood:
    I am not guilty of Lysander's blood;
    Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell.
  HERMIA. I pray thee, tell me then that he is well.
  DEMETRIUS. An if I could, what should I get therefore?
  HERMIA. A privilege never to see me more.
    And from thy hated presence part I so;
    See me no more whether he be dead or no.                Exit
  DEMETRIUS. There is no following her in this fierce vein;
    Here, therefore, for a while I will remain.
    So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow
    For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe;
    Which now in some slight measure it will pay,
    If for his tender here I make some stay.         [Lies down]
  OBERON. What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite,
    And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight.
    Of thy misprision must perforce ensue
    Some true love turn'd, and not a false turn'd true.
  PUCK. Then fate o'er-rules, that, one man holding troth,
    A million fail, confounding oath on oath.
  OBERON. About the wood go swifter than the wind,
    And Helena of Athens look thou find;
    All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer,
    With sighs of love that costs the fresh blood dear.
    By some illusion see thou bring her here;
    I'll charm his eyes against she do appear.
  PUCK. I go, I go; look how I go,
    Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow.               Exit
  OBERON.       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.

                       Re-enter PUCK

  PUCK.         Captain of our fairy band,
                Helena is here at hand,
                And the youth mistook by me
                Pleading for a lover's fee;
                Shall we their fond pageant see?
                Lord, what fools these mortals be!
  OBERON.       Stand aside. The noise they make
                Will cause Demetrius to awake.
  PUCK.         Then will two at once woo one.
                That must needs be sport alone;
                And those things do best please me
                That befall prepost'rously.

                   Enter LYSANDER and HELENA

  LYSANDER. 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.
    How can these things in me seem scorn to you,
    Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?
  HELENA. You do advance your cunning more and more.
    When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray!
    These vows are Hermia'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.
  LYSANDER. I had no judgment when to her I swore.
  HELENA. Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er.
  LYSANDER. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you.
  DEMETRIUS. [Awaking] O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!
    To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?
    Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show
    Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
    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!
  HELENA. O spite! O hell! I see you all are 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 men, as men you are in show,
    You would not use a gentle lady so:
    To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts,
    When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.
    You both are rivals, and love Hermia;
    And now both rivals, to mock Helena.
    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, and extort
    A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport.
  LYSANDER. You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so;
    For you love Hermia. This you know I know;
    And here, with all good will, with all my heart,
    In Hermia's love I yield you up my part;
    And yours of Helena to me bequeath,
    Whom I do love and will do till my death.
  HELENA. Never did mockers waste more idle breath.
  DEMETRIUS. Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none.
    If e'er I lov'd her, all that love is gone.
    My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn'd,
    And now to Helen is it home return'd,
    There to remain.
  LYSANDER. Helen, it is not so.
  DEMETRIUS. 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.

                       Enter HERMIA

  HERMIA. 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.
    Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found;
    Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound.
    But why unkindly didst thou leave me so?
  LYSANDER. Why should he stay whom love doth press to go?
  HERMIA. What love could press Lysander from my side?
  LYSANDER. Lysander's love, that would not let him bide-
    Fair Helena, who more engilds the night
    Than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light.
    Why seek'st thou me? Could not this make thee know
    The hate I bare thee made me leave thee so?
  HERMIA. You speak not as you think; it cannot be.
  HELENA. 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 Hermia! 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 sisters' 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?
    We, Hermia, like two artificial gods,
    Have with our needles created both one flower,
    Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
    Both warbling of one song, both in one key;
    As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds,
    Had been incorporate. So we grew together,
    Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
    But yet an union in partition,
    Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;
    So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart;
    Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
    Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.
    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.
  HERMIA. I am amazed at your passionate words;
    I scorn you not; it seems that you scorn me.
  HELENA. Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn,
    To follow me and praise my eyes and face?
    And made your other love, Demetrius,
    Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,
    To call me goddess, nymph, divine, and rare,
    Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this
    To her he hates? And wherefore doth Lysander
    Deny your love, so rich within his soul,
    And tender me, forsooth, affection,
    But by your setting on, by your consent?
    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.
  HERMIA. I understand not what you mean by this.
  HELENA. Ay, do- persever, counterfeit sad looks,
    Make mouths upon me when I turn my back,
    Wink each at 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 my own fault,
    Which death, or absence, soon shall remedy.
  LYSANDER. Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse;
    My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena!
  HELENA. O excellent!
  HERMIA. Sweet, do not scorn her so.
  DEMETRIUS. If she cannot entreat, I can compel.
  LYSANDER. Thou canst compel no more than she entreat;
    Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers
    Helen, I love thee, by my life I do;
    I swear by that which I will lose for thee
    To prove him false that says I love thee not.
  DEMETRIUS. I say I love thee more than he can do.
  LYSANDER. If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too.
  DEMETRIUS. Quick, come.
  HERMIA. Lysander, whereto tends all this?
  LYSANDER. Away, you Ethiope!
  DEMETRIUS. No, no, he will
    Seem to break loose- take on as you would follow,
    But yet come not. You are a tame man; go!
  LYSANDER. Hang off, thou cat, thou burr; vile thing, let loose,
    Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent.
  HERMIA. Why are you grown so rude? What change is this,
    Sweet love?
  LYSANDER. Thy love! Out, tawny Tartar, out!
    Out, loathed med'cine! O hated potion, hence!
  HERMIA. Do you not jest?
  HELENA. Yes, sooth; and so do you.
  LYSANDER. Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee.
  DEMETRIUS. I would I had your bond; for I perceive
    A weak bond holds you; I'll not trust your word.
  LYSANDER. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?
    Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so.
  HERMIA. What! Can you do me greater harm than hate?
    Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news, my love?
    Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander?
    I am as fair now as I was erewhile.
    Since night you lov'd me; yet since night you left me.
    Why then, you left me- O, the gods forbid!-
    In earnest, shall I say?
  LYSANDER. Ay, by my life!
    And never did desire to see thee more.
    Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt;
    Be certain, nothing truer; 'tis no jest
    That I do hate thee and love Helena.
  HERMIA. O me! you juggler! you cankerblossom!
    You thief of love! What! Have you come by night,
    And stol'n my love's heart from him?
  HELENA. Fine, i' faith!
    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!
  HERMIA. '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 him.
    And are you grown so high in his 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 unto thine eyes.
  HELENA. I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen,
    Let her not hurt me. I was never curst;
    I have no gift at all in shrewishness;
    I am a right maid for my cowardice;
    Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think,
    Because she is something lower than myself,
    That I can match her.
  HERMIA. 'Lower' hark, again.
  HELENA. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me.
    I evermore did love you, Hermia,
    Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you;
    Save that, in love unto Demetrius,
    I told him of your stealth unto this wood.
    He followed you; for love I followed him;
    But he hath chid me hence, and threat'ned me
    To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too;
    And now, so you will let me quiet go,
    To Athens will I bear my folly back,
    And follow you no further. Let me go.
    You see how simple and how fond I am.
  HERMIA. Why, get you gone! Who is't that hinders you?
  HELENA. A foolish heart that I leave here behind.
  HERMIA. What! with Lysander?
  HELENA. With Demetrius.
  LYSANDER. Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena.
  DEMETRIUS. No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part.
  HELENA. O, when she is angry, she is keen and shrewd;
    She was a vixen when she went to school;
    And, though she be but little, she is fierce.
  HERMIA. 'Little' again! Nothing but 'low' and 'little'!
    Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?
    Let me come to her.
  LYSANDER. Get you gone, you dwarf;
    You minimus, of hind'ring knot-grass made;
    You bead, you acorn.
  DEMETRIUS. You are too officious
    In her behalf that scorns your services.
    Let her alone; speak not of Helena;
    Take not her part; for if thou dost intend
    Never so little show of love to her,
    Thou shalt aby it.
  LYSANDER. Now she holds me not.
    Now follow, if thou dar'st, to try whose right,
    Of thine or mine, is most in Helena.
  DEMETRIUS. Follow! Nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jowl.
                                   Exeunt LYSANDER and DEMETRIUS
  HERMIA. You, mistress, all this coil is long of you.
    Nay, go not back.
  HELENA. I will not trust you, I;
    Nor longer stay in your curst company.
    Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray;
    My legs are longer though, to run away.                 Exit
  HERMIA. I am amaz'd, and know not what to say.            Exit
  OBERON. This is thy negligence. Still thou mistak'st,
    Or else committ'st thy knaveries wilfully.
  PUCK. Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook.
    Did not you tell me I should know the man
    By the Athenian garments he had on?
    And so far blameless proves my enterprise
    That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes;
    And so far am I glad it so did sort,
    As this their jangling I esteem a sport.
  OBERON. Thou seest these lovers seek a place to fight.
    Hie therefore, Robin, 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.
    Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue,
    Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong;
    And sometime rail thou like Demetrius;
    And from each other look thou lead them thus,
    Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep
    With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep.
    Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye;
    Whose liquor hath this virtuous property,
    To take from thence all error with his might
    And make his 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 Indian boy;
    And then I will her charmed eye release
    From monster's view, and all things shall be peace.
  PUCK. My fairy lord, this must be done with haste,
    For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast;
    And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger,
    At whose approach ghosts, wand'ring here and there,
    Troop home to churchyards. Damned spirits all
    That in cross-ways and floods have burial,
    Already to their wormy beds are gone,
    For fear lest day should look their shames upon;
    They wilfully themselves exil'd from light,
    And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night.
  OBERON. But we are spirits of another sort:
    I with the Morning's love have oft made sport;
    And, like a forester, the groves may tread
    Even till the eastern gate, all fiery red,
    Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams,
    Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams.
    But, notwithstanding, haste, make no delay;
    We may effect this business yet ere day.         Exit OBERON
  PUCK.      Up and down, up and down,
             I will lead them up and down.
             I am fear'd in field and town.
             Goblin, lead them up and down.
    Here comes one.

                      Enter LYSANDER

  LYSANDER. Where art thou, proud Demetrius? Speak thou now.
  PUCK. Here, villain, drawn and ready. Where art thou?
  LYSANDER. I will be with thee straight.
  PUCK. Follow me, then,
    To plainer ground.      Exit LYSANDER as following the voice

                      Enter DEMETRIUS

  DEMETRIUS. Lysander, speak again.
    Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?
    Speak! In some bush? Where dost thou hide thy head?
  PUCK. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars,
    Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars,
    And wilt not come? Come, recreant, come, thou child;
    I'll whip thee with a rod. He is defil'd
    That draws a sword on thee.
  DEMETRIUS. Yea, art thou there?
  PUCK. Follow my voice; we'll try no manhood here.       Exeunt

                      Re-enter LYSANDER

  LYSANDER. He goes before me, and still dares me on;
    When I come where he calls, then he is gone.
    The villain is much lighter heel'd than I.
    I followed fast, but faster he did fly,
    That fallen am I in dark uneven way,
    And here will rest me. [Lies down] Come, thou gentle day.
    For if but once thou show me thy grey light,
    I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this spite.        [Sleeps]

                 Re-enter PUCK and DEMETRIUS

  PUCK. Ho, ho, ho! Coward, why com'st thou not?
  DEMETRIUS. Abide me, if thou dar'st; for well I wot
    Thou run'st before me, shifting every place,
    And dar'st not stand, nor look me in the face.
    Where art thou now?
  PUCK. Come hither; I am here.
  DEMETRIUS. Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt buy this
dear,
    If ever I thy face by daylight see;
    Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me
    To measure out my length on this cold bed.
    By day's approach look to be visited.
                                          [Lies down and sleeps]

                       Enter HELENA

  HELENA. O weary night, O long and tedious night,
    Abate thy hours! Shine comforts from the east,
    That I may back to Athens by daylight,
    From these that my poor company detest.
    And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye,
    Steal me awhile from mine own company.              [Sleeps]
  PUCK.       Yet but three? Come one more;
              Two of both kinds makes up four.
              Here she comes, curst and sad.
              Cupid is a knavish lad,
              Thus to make poor females mad.

                     Enter HERMIA

  HERMIA. Never so weary, never so in woe,
    Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with briers,
    I can no further crawl, no further go;
    My legs can keep no pace with my desires.
    Here will I rest me till the break of day.
    Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray!
                                          [Lies down and sleeps]
  PUCK.          On the ground
                 Sleep sound;
                 I'll apply
                 To your eye,
          Gentle lover, remedy.
                        [Squeezing the juice on LYSANDER'S eyes]
                 When thou wak'st,
                 Thou tak'st
                 True delight
                 In the sight
          Of thy former lady's eye;
          And the country proverb known,
          That every man should take his own,
          In your waking shall be shown:
                 Jack shall have Jill;
                 Nought shall go ill;
    The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well.
 Exit

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: In another part of the wood, Oberon wonders if Titania has awoken from her slumber. He's hoping that she laid her eyes on a vile beast. Enter Puck with the answer. He tells Oberon that a crew of craftsmen entered the grove where Titania was sleeping to practice their play for Theseus's wedding. Puck found Bottom to be the dullest, so he transformed his head into that of a donkey. Titania woke up and fell in love with the donkey-Bottom hybrid. Oberon thinks this is hilarious--everything has worked out better than he could've imagined. The Fairy King asks Puck if put the love juice in the Athenian man's eyes and Puck says, yep, he sure did. Demetrius and Hermia enter and Oberon realizes that Puck put the love juice in the wrong Athenian man's eyes. Hermia is livid that Lysander abandoned her while she was sleeping. Then she accuses Demetrius of killing her fiance, which he doesn't exactly deny, even though we know he hasn't killed anyone. Hermia flips out and curses Demetrius. Demetrius says she's getting her bloomers in a knot for no reason--he hasn't killed Lysander, nor does he have any reason to believe Lysander is dead. Hermia wants Demetrius's assurance that Lysander is okay. Demetrius is all, "What will you give me in exchange?" Sassy Hermia says that in exchange she'll promise to never see him again. This doesn't sound like much of a bargain and Demetrius admits that he's getting nowhere fast. All this pursuing has made Demetrius sad and sleepy, so he lies down for a nap. Meanwhile, Oberon is busy pointing out that Puck got the wrong guy. Oberon tells Puck to go find Helena in the woods, and use some magic to bring her to Demetrius's sight. Puck exits. Oberon says a little verse over the sleeping Demetrius, intending to make the young man fall in love with Helena once Demetrius awakens. Puck leads Helena to Demetrius, with Lysander begging at her heels. Oberon and Puck are going to watch what happens for a while, and they hope the ruckus will wake up Demetrius. Meanwhile, Lysander tries to convince Helena that he loves her. Helena is ticked off because Lysander is supposed to be in love with her friend Hermia. Lysander points out that Hermia's dad wants her to marry Demetrius, anyway. Just then, Demetrius wakes up, sees Helena, and declares that she's a goddess. Now Helena really loses it, thinking that both men are mocking her for their amusement. Lysander and Demetrius bicker over who should get Helena. Demetrius announces that Hermia is approaching. Hermia can't see anything in the dark woods, but she follows Lysander's voice. Once she arrives, she asks Lysander why he left her alone in the woods while she was sleeping. Lysander declares that he no longer loves Hermia and that his heart belongs to Helena. Lysander says he thought leaving Hermia sleeping alone in the woods in the middle of the night was a clear enough message that he hates her. Helena thinks that Hermia is in on some big, elaborate joke designed to make her look silly. She accuses Hermia of betraying the girls' long friendship. They even used to embroider together! The nerve! Hermia is shocked to hear that Helena thinks she's been betrayed--Hermia actually thinks Helena must be the one doing the teasing and betraying. The ex-friends continue to argue. Helena throws up her hands and tells them they can go ahead and keep up the act. Helena assumes they mean to "chronicle" it, the Elizabethan equivalent of putting it up on Facebook, so that they can all laugh about it later. Helena doesn't want to stick around just to be teased--she'd rather die. Hearing Helena's plan to take off, Lysander interjects, calling Helena "my love, my life, my soul." Hermia chides Lysander, thinking he's teasing Helena. Demetrius threatens Lysander, who again swears his love to Helena. The boys then get into a discussion about who loves Helena. Hermia asks Lysander what this is all about. Lysander makes his feelings for Hermia clear by using a racial slur: "Away, you Ethiop!" Hermia hangs onto Lysander, all confused, as he calls her a string of nasty things, including a "Tartar" . All the while Demetrius accuses Lysander of being a coward, pretending to be held back by Hermia instead of fighting. Lysander goes back to his challenge against Demetrius, saying that he'll keep his word and fight him. We interrupt this soap opera to bring you a brain snack and some words of encouragement: If you're feeling like your head is going to explode and you're having a hard time keeping track of who's who, you're not alone. The scene is confusing and the four young lovers seem indistinguishable for a reason--Shakespeare is basically telling us that all lovers are alike. Now, back to our program. Lysander asks if he should "hurt , strike her, kill her dead?" to prove he no longer loves her, but concedes that, even though he hates Hermia, he won't kill her. Hermia finally gets it. Instead of turning on the man who scorns her, Hermia turns on the woman he's chosen over her, the woman who has been her closest friend since childhood. Hermia accuses Helena of stealing Lysander. Helena is also upset and thinking Hermia must still be joking. She calls Hermia a counterfeit and a puppet. Hermia takes great offense. Though it seems Helena meant to call her a puppet , Hermia interprets the puppet comment as a jab at how short she is. Hermia irrationally reasons that Helena has won the love of both men by flaunting her superior height and making Hermia look like a dwarf in comparison. Hermia points out that she may be short, but she is still tall enough to scratch out Helena's eyes. Scandalized, Helena pleads with the men to protect her from Hermia. Helena tries to soothe Hermia by saying she still loves her and never did her wrong. Well...except that one time when she told Demetrius about Hermia's secret plan to elope with Lysander. Helena now accepts the wrong that she's done. She'd like to just get back to Athens and forget the whole thing. Hermia, still angry, says nothing is stopping Helena from going. It's clear, though, that Helena's heart is still with Demetrius. Lysander says he'll protect Helena from Hermia, which starts the whole mess up again. Now Helena says that Hermia was always feisty when they were younger and, though she's little, she's fierce. Hermia flares up again at being called "little" and tries to get at Helena. Again. Lysander calls Hermia a dwarf and tells her to get lost. Demetrius thinks Lysander should lay off trying to protect Helena because she doesn't like him. Lysander points out that Hermia isn't holding him back now. He suggests to Demetrius that they "step outside" and settle this thing once and for all. They exit to fight. Now Helena and Hermia can catfight alone. Helena decides she's a faster runner than Hermia and flees rather than face Hermia's fists . Hermia chases after her. The two women exit. Finally, we're back to Oberon and Puck. Oberon yells at Puck for screwing things up so badly. Oberon asks if Puck sprinkled the love juice on the wrong guy's eyes on purpose. Puck assures Oberon that he's not at fault--all Oberon told him to do was find a guy dressed like an Athenian, which he did. Anyway, he's glad for his mistake because it's much funnier this way--full of betrayal, mayhem, general human foolishness, and murder threats. Oberon, knowing the competitive males are looking for some place to fight, tells Puck to make the night overcast, so the angry men can't see each other. He instructs Puck to lure each man in a different direction by imitating his enemy's voice. Oberon then gives Puck another herb, an antidote to the love juice, and tells him that the boys will tire eventually and go to sleep. He tells Puck to drop the remedy herb onto Lysander's eyes, so he'll be cured of his love for Helena. When everybody wakes up, these quarrels will seem like a silly dream. Lysander will love Hermia again, and Demetrius will still love Helena. After this, the lovers can go home to Athens and live happily ever after. While Puck is busy preventing fights and un-enchanting Lysander, Oberon will go beg the still-bewitched Titania for the Indian boy. Once she's given up the boy, Oberon will release Titania from her enchanted love of Bottom. Thus, the entire mess will be fixed. Puck agrees this plan must be accomplished quickly, because night will be over soon. Ghosts are returning to their graves, and all the wicked things that night allows are coming to a close. Oberon points out that, although some spirits and ghosts can only come out at night, he and Puck can go about their business during day or night. Still, Oberon wants the job done already--no delays. The Fairy King leaves and Puck is left alone to tend to his business, promising to lead the young men up and down and every which way. Lysander then enters. Puck, in Demetrius's voice, challenges Lysander to find more steady ground on which to fight. Lysander exits, following the voice he thinks belongs to Demetrius. Now Demetrius enters, asking where Lysander is hiding. Puck, putting on Lysander's voice, eggs on Demetrius, promising to whip him. Thus he leads Demetrius off with his false voice. Lysander, back on stage, wonders where on earth Demetrius has gone. Still, Lysander is now exhausted and lies on the ground to get some rest. As he's falling asleep, he promises to hunt Demetrius down in the light of day. Lysander sleeps. Demetrius and Puck come back onto the stage, with Puck leading Demetrius around using Lysander's voice. Demetrius still seeks Lysander, but can't see him. Demetrius is tired too, so he tells Lysander to get lost, with the promise that they'll fight in the daylight. Demetrius also sleeps. Helena then enters, pleading with night to end quickly. In daylight, she'll go back to Athens and escape the other three Athenians who hate her so much. Finally, Hermia comes back on stage, claiming she has never been so tired or so sad. She can't go on, and will rest here, though she prays the heavens will protect Lysander if Demetrius means to fight him. She too goes to sleep. Puck, with all four youngsters asleep, can now begin his work. He says a little rhyme, and squeezes the remedy onto Lysander's eyes. Now Lysander will love Hermia again when he wakes, and each man will take the woman that is right for him.


prompt:
Chapter: ACT I. SCENE I.
Athens. The palace of THESEUS

Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and ATTENDANTS

  THESEUS. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour
    Draws on apace; four happy days bring in
    Another moon; but, O, methinks, how slow
    This old moon wanes! She lingers my desires,
    Like to a step-dame or a dowager,
    Long withering out a young man's revenue.
  HIPPOLYTA. Four days will quickly steep themselves in night;
    Four nights will quickly dream away the time;
    And then the moon, like to a silver bow
    New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night
    Of our solemnities.
  THESEUS. Go, Philostrate,
    Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments;
    Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth;
    Turn melancholy forth to funerals;
    The pale companion is not for our pomp.     Exit PHILOSTRATE
    Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword,
    And won thy love doing thee injuries;
    But I will wed thee in another key,
    With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling.

          Enter EGEUS, and his daughter HERMIA, LYSANDER,
                           and DEMETRIUS

  EGEUS. Happy be Theseus, our renowned Duke!
  THESEUS. Thanks, good Egeus; what's the news with thee?
  EGEUS. Full of vexation come I, with complaint
    Against my child, my daughter Hermia.
    Stand forth, Demetrius. My noble lord,
    This man hath my consent to marry her.
    Stand forth, Lysander. And, my gracious Duke,
    This man hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child.
    Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes,
    And interchang'd love-tokens with my child;
    Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung,
    With feigning voice, verses of feigning love,
    And stol'n the impression of her fantasy
    With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits,
    Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats- messengers
    Of strong prevailment in unhardened youth;
    With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart;
    Turn'd 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 Demetrius,
    I beg the ancient privilege of Athens:
    As she is mine I may dispose of her;
    Which shall be either to this gentleman
    Or to her death, according to our law
    Immediately provided in that case.
  THESEUS. What say you, Hermia? Be advis'd, fair maid.
    To you your father should be as a god;
    One that compos'd your beauties; yea, and one
    To whom you are but as a form in wax,
    By him imprinted, and within his power
    To leave the figure, or disfigure it.
    Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.
  HERMIA. So is Lysander.
  THESEUS. In himself he is;
    But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice,
    The other must be held the worthier.
  HERMIA. I would my father look'd but with my eyes.
  THESEUS. Rather your eyes must with his judgment look.
  HERMIA. 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 Demetrius.
  THESEUS. Either to die the death, or to abjure
    For ever the society of men.
    Therefore, fair Hermia, 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,
    For aye to be shady cloister mew'd,
    To live a barren sister all your life,
    Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.
    Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood
    To undergo such maiden pilgrimage;
    But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd
    Than that which withering on the virgin thorn
    Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness.
  HERMIA. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord,
    Ere I will yield my virgin patent up
    Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke
    My soul consents not to give sovereignty.
  THESEUS. 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 die
    For disobedience to your father's will,
    Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would,
    Or on Diana's altar to protest
    For aye austerity and single life.
  DEMETRIUS. Relent, sweet Hermia; and, Lysander, yield
    Thy crazed title to my certain right.
  LYSANDER. You have her father's love, Demetrius;
    Let me have Hermia's; do you marry him.
  EGEUS. Scornful Lysander, true, he hath my love;
    And what is mine my love shall render him;
    And she is mine; and all my right of her
    I do estate unto Demetrius.
  LYSANDER. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he,
    As well possess'd; my love is more than his;
    My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd,
    If not with vantage, as Demetrius';
    And, which is more than all these boasts can be,
    I am belov'd of beauteous Hermia.
    Why should not I then prosecute my right?
    Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head,
    Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena,
    And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes,
    Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry,
    Upon this spotted and inconstant man.
  THESEUS. I must confess that I have heard so much,
    And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof;
    But, being over-full of self-affairs,
    My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come;
    And come, Egeus; you shall go with me;
    I have some private schooling for you both.
    For you, fair Hermia, 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 death, or to a vow of single life.
    Come, my Hippolyta; what cheer, my love?
    Demetrius, and Egeus, go along;
    I must employ you in some business
    Against our nuptial, and confer with you
    Of something nearly that concerns yourselves.
  EGEUS. With duty and desire we follow you.
                              Exeunt all but LYSANDER and HERMIA
  LYSANDER. How now, my love! Why is your cheek so pale?
    How chance the roses there do fade so fast?
  HERMIA. Belike for want of rain, which I could well
    Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes.
  LYSANDER. Ay me! for aught that I could ever read,
    Could ever hear by tale or history,
    The course of true love never did run smooth;
    But either it was different in blood-
  HERMIA. O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low.
  LYSANDER. Or else misgraffed in respect of years-
  HERMIA. O spite! too old to be engag'd to young.
  LYSANDER. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends-
  HERMIA. O hell! to choose love by another's eyes.
  LYSANDER. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
    War, death, or sickness, did lay siege to it,
    Making it momentary as a sound,
    Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,
    Brief as the lightning in the collied night
    That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
    And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!'
    The jaws of darkness do devour it up;
    So quick bright things come to confusion.
  HERMIA. If then true lovers have ever cross'd,
    It stands as an edict in destiny.
    Then let us teach our trial patience,
    Because it is a customary cross,
    As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs,
    Wishes and tears, poor Fancy's followers.
  LYSANDER. A good persuasion; therefore, hear me, Hermia.
    I have a widow aunt, a dowager
    Of great revenue, and she hath no child-
    From Athens is her house remote seven leagues-
    And she respects me as her only son.
    There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee;
    And to that place the sharp Athenian law
    Cannot pursue us. If thou lovest me then,
    Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night;
    And in the wood, a league without the town,
    Where I did meet thee once with Helena
    To do observance to a morn of May,
    There will I stay for thee.
  HERMIA. My good Lysander!
    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 prospers loves,
    And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage Queen,
    When the false Troyan under sail was seen,
    By all the vows that ever men have broke,
    In number more than ever women spoke,
    In that same place thou hast appointed me,
    To-morrow truly will I meet with thee.
  LYSANDER. Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena.

                         Enter HELENA

  HERMIA. God speed fair Helena! Whither away?
  HELENA. Call you me fair? That fair again unsay.
    Demetrius loves your fair. O happy fair!
    Your eyes are lode-stars 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 Hermia, ere I go!
    My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,
    My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody.
    Were the world mine, Demetrius 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 Demetrius' heart!
  HERMIA. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.
  HELENA. O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill!
  HERMIA. I give him curses, yet he gives me love.
  HELENA. O that my prayers could such affection move!
  HERMIA. The more I hate, the more he follows me.
  HELENA. The more I love, the more he hateth me.
  HERMIA. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.
  HELENA. None, but your beauty; would that fault were mine!
  HERMIA. Take comfort: he no more shall see my face;
    Lysander and myself will fly this place.
    Before the time I did Lysander see,
    Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me.
    O, then, what graces in my love do dwell,
    That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell!
  LYSANDER. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold:
    To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold
    Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass,
    Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass,
    A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,
    Through Athens' gates have we devis'd to steal.
  HERMIA. And in the wood where often you and I
    Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie,
    Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet,
    There my Lysander and myself shall meet;
    And thence from Athens turn away our eyes,
    To seek new friends and stranger companies.
    Farewell, sweet playfellow; pray thou for us,
    And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!
    Keep word, Lysander; we must starve our sight
    From lovers' food till morrow deep midnight.
  LYSANDER. I will, my Hermia. [Exit HERMIA] Helena, adieu;
    As you on him, Demetrius dote on you.                   Exit
  HELENA. How happy some o'er other some can be!
    Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
    But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so;
    He will not know what all but he do know.
    And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes,
    So I, admiring of his qualities.
    Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
    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 judgment 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 Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne,
    He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine;
    And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt,
    So he dissolv'd, and show'rs of oaths did melt.
    I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight;
    Then to the wood will he to-morrow 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.               Exit

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: This scene opens in Theseus' palace in Athens. It is four days before his wedding to Hippolyta, the former queen of the Amazons, and Theseus is impatient with how slowly time is moving. Hippolyta assures him that the wedding day will soon arrive. As Theseus and Hippolyta plan their wedding festivities, Egeus and his daughter, Hermia, arrive on the scene with Lysander and Demetrius. Egeus is angry because his daughter refuses to marry Demetrius, the man of his choice, but is instead in love with Lysander. Egeus accuses Lysander of bewitching his daughter and stealing her love by underhanded means. Agreeing with Egeus, Theseus declares that it is a daughter's duty to obey her father. Hermia demands to know the worst punishment she will receive for disobedience. Death or spending her life in a nunnery comprise Hermia's choices. Lysander joins the argument, arguing that he is Demetrius' equal in everything and is, indeed, more constant in his affection than Demetrius, who was recently in love with Helena. These proceedings upset Hippolyta, because the prospect of Hermia's death upsets her plans for a happy, festive wedding day. Finally, everyone except Lysander and Hermia leave the stage. Lysander reminds Hermia that the course of true love has never run smoothly, so they must view their difficulties as typical for lovers. He has a plan for eluding Athenian law: The two lovers will run away from Athens and live with his childless widow aunt to whom he has always been a surrogate son. Living with her, they will be outside of Athenian jurisdiction so that Hermia can avoid Theseus' death sentence and can marry. Having few other options, Hermia is enthusiastic about Lysander's idea and declares her undying love for him. Just as the lovers have completed their plan for escape, Helena enters the scene. What charms does Hermia possess, Helena wonders, that have so completely captivated Demetrius? Hermia swears that she has no interest in Demetrius, that he actually seems to thrive on her hatred of him. Hermia and Lysander confess their intention of fleeing Athens, and Helena decides to tell Demetrius about it in a final attempt to win his love.


prompt:
Chapter: SCENE II.
Athens. QUINCE'S house

Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING

  QUINCE. Is all our company here?
  BOTTOM. You were best to call them generally, man by man,
according
    to the scrip.
  QUINCE. Here is the scroll of every man's name which is thought
    fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the
Duke
    and the Duchess on his wedding-day at night.
  BOTTOM. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on;
then
    read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point.
  QUINCE. Marry, our play is 'The most Lamentable Comedy and most
    Cruel Death of Pyramus and Thisby.'
  BOTTOM. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry.
Now,
    good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll.
Masters,
    spread yourselves.
  QUINCE. Answer, as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver.
  BOTTOM. Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed.
  QUINCE. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus.
  BOTTOM. What is Pyramus? A lover, or a tyrant?
  QUINCE. A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love.
  BOTTOM. 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. To the rest- yet my chief
humour is
    for a tyrant. I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a
cat
    in, to make all split.

                 'The raging rocks
                 And shivering shocks
                 Shall break the locks
                   Of prison gates;

                 And Phibbus' car
                 Shall shine from far,
                 And make and mar
                   The foolish Fates.'

    This was lofty. Now name the rest of the players. This is
    Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein: a lover is more condoling.
  QUINCE. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.
  FLUTE. Here, Peter Quince.
  QUINCE. Flute, you must take Thisby on you.
  FLUTE. What is Thisby? A wand'ring knight?
  QUINCE. It is the lady that Pyramus must love.
  FLUTE. Nay, faith, let not me play a woman; I have a beard
coming.
  QUINCE. That's all one; you shall play it in a mask, and you
may
    speak as small as you will.
  BOTTOM. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too.
    I'll speak in a monstrous little voice: 'Thisne, Thisne!'
    [Then speaking small] 'Ah Pyramus, my lover dear! Thy
    Thisby dear, and lady dear!'
  QUINCE. No, no, you must play Pyramus; and, Flute, you Thisby.
  BOTTOM. Well, proceed.
  QUINCE. Robin Starveling, the tailor.
  STARVELING. Here, Peter Quince.
  QUINCE. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother.
    Tom Snout, the tinker.
  SNOUT. Here, Peter Quince.
  QUINCE. You, Pyramus' father; myself, Thisby's father; Snug,
the
    joiner, you, the lion's part. And, I hope, here is a play
fitted.
  SNUG. Have you the lion's part written? Pray you, if it be,
give it
    me, for I am slow of study.
  QUINCE. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.
  BOTTOM. Let me play the lion too. I will roar that I will do
any
    man's heart good to hear me; I will roar that I will make the
    Duke say 'Let him roar again, let him roar again.'
  QUINCE. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the
    Duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were
    enough to hang us all.
  ALL. That would hang us, every mother's son.
  BOTTOM. I grant you, friends, if you should fright 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 roar you as
gently
    as any sucking dove; I will roar you an 'twere any
nightingale.
  QUINCE. You can play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is a
    sweet-fac'd man; a proper man, as one shall see in a summer's
    day; a most lovely gentleman-like man; therefore you must
needs
    play Pyramus.
  BOTTOM. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to
play
    it in?
  QUINCE. Why, what you will.
  BOTTOM. I will discharge it in either your straw-colour beard,
your
    orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your
    French-crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow.
  QUINCE. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and
then
    you will play bare-fac'd. But, masters, here are your parts;
and
    I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them
by
    to-morrow night; and meet me in the palace wood, a mile
without
    the town, by moonlight; there will we rehearse; for if we
meet in
    the city, we shall be dogg'd with company, and our devices
known.
    In the meantime I will draw a bill of properties, such as our
    play wants. I pray you, fail me not.
  BOTTOM. We will meet; and there we may rehearse most obscenely
and
    courageously. Take pains; be perfect; adieu.
  QUINCE. At the Duke's oak we meet.
  BOTTOM. Enough; hold, or cut bow-strings.               Exeunt

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: In this scene, the action shifts to the cottage of Peter Quince, the director of a band of amateur actors who are planning a play to perform for Theseus and Hippolyta's wedding. The play enacts the tragic story of Pyramus and Thisbe, two young lovers who die during a clandestine meeting. Quince is in the process of assigning roles to the various players but meets with many objections to his casting efforts. Nick Bottom, the weaver who is an entertaining but foolish man, usurps Quince's authority as director and claims he would like to play all of the roles in the drama. He is cast as lover Pyramus. Flute, the bellows mender, is assigned the role of the heroine, Thisbe. Not happy to play a female role because he wants to let his beard grow, Flute is pleased to learn that he can wear a mask for the performance so he won't need to shave. Snug, the joiner, is cast in the role of the lion. Bottom wants to appropriate this role , claiming his roar could make the ladies shriek. His statement makes the players nervous. They worry that if the lion is too authentic, the women in the audience will be frightened, literally, to death: They fear that Theseus might have them hanged for scaring the ladies. Bottom agrees to temper his roar, making it gentle as a "sucking dove," but Quince flatters him by insisting that Snug must keep the part of the lion because only Bottom can play the leading role of Pyramus. When the casting is finally finished, Quince sends the players off to learn their lines and tells them to meet for a rehearsal the following evening at the Duke's oak.


prompt:
Chapter: ACT II. SCENE I.
A wood near Athens

Enter a FAIRY at One door, and PUCK at another

  PUCK. How now, spirit! whither wander you?
  FAIRY.      Over hill, over dale,
                Thorough bush, through brier,
              Over park, over pale,
                Thorough flood, through fire,
              I do wander every where,
              Swifter than the moon's sphere;
              And I serve the Fairy Queen,
              To dew her orbs upon the green.
              The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
              In their gold coats spots you see;
              Those be rubies, fairy favours,
              In those freckles live their savours.

    I must go seek some dewdrops here,
    And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
    Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone.
    Our Queen and all her elves come here anon.
  PUCK. The King doth keep his revels here to-night;
    Take heed the Queen come not within his sight;
    For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,
    Because that she as her attendant hath
    A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king.
    She never had so sweet a changeling;
    And jealous Oberon would have the child
    Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild;
    But she perforce withholds the loved boy,
    Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy.
    And now they never meet in grove or green,
    By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen,
    But they do square, that all their elves for fear
    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 Robin Goodfellow. Are not you he
    That frights the maidens of the villagery,
    Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern,
    And bootless make the breathless housewife churn,
    And sometime make the drink to bear no barm,
    Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm?
    Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck,
    You do their work, and they shall have good luck.
    Are not you he?
  PUCK. Thou speakest aright:
    I am that merry wanderer of the night.
    I jest to Oberon, and make him 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 withered dewlap pour the ale.
    The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale,
    Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me;
    Then slip I from her bum, down topples she,
    And 'tailor' cries, and falls into a cough;
    And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh,
    And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear
    A merrier hour was never wasted there.
    But room, fairy, here comes Oberon.
  FAIRY. And here my mistress. Would that he were gone!

       Enter OBERON at one door, with his TRAIN, and TITANIA,
                        at another, with hers

  OBERON. Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.
  TITANIA. What, jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip hence;
    I have forsworn his bed and company.
  OBERON. Tarry, rash wanton; am not I thy lord?
  TITANIA. Then I must be thy lady; but I know
    When thou hast stolen away from fairy land,
    And in the shape of Corin sat all day,
    Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love
    To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here,
    Come from the farthest steep of India,
    But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon,
    Your buskin'd mistress and your warrior love,
    To Theseus must be wedded, and you come
    To give their bed joy and prosperity?
  OBERON. How canst thou thus, for shame, Titania,
    Glance at my credit with Hippolyta,
    Knowing I know thy love to Theseus?
    Didst not thou lead him through the glimmering night
    From Perigouna, whom he ravished?
    And make him with fair Aegles break his faith,
    With Ariadne and Antiopa?
  TITANIA. These are the forgeries of jealousy;
    And never, since the middle summer's spring,
    Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,
    By paved fountain, or by rushy brook,
    Or in the beached margent of the sea,
    To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
    But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport.
    Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain,
    As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea
    Contagious fogs; which, falling in the land,
    Hath every pelting river made so proud
    That they have overborne their continents.
    The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain,
    The ploughman lost his sweat, and the green corn
    Hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard;
    The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
    And crows are fatted with the murrion flock;
    The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud,
    And the quaint mazes in the wanton green,
    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 Hiems' thin and icy crown
    An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
    Is, as in mockery, set. The spring, the summer,
    The childing autumn, angry winter, change
    Their wonted liveries; and the mazed world,
    By their increase, now knows not which is which.
    And this same progeny of evils comes
    From our debate, from our dissension;
    We are their parents and original.
  OBERON. Do you amend it, then; it lies in you.
    Why should Titania cross her Oberon?
    I do but beg a little changeling boy
    To be my henchman.
  TITANIA. Set your heart at rest;
    The fairy land buys not the child of me.
    His mother was a vot'ress 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 th' 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- her womb then rich with my young squire-
    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, of that boy did die;
    And for her sake do I rear up her boy;
    And for her sake I will not part with him.
  OBERON. How long within this wood intend you stay?
  TITANIA. Perchance till after Theseus' 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.
  OBERON. Give me that boy and I will go with thee.
  TITANIA. Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away.
    We shall chide downright if I longer stay.
                                     Exit TITANIA with her train
  OBERON. Well, go thy way; thou shalt not from this grove
    Till I torment thee for this injury.
    My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou rememb'rest
    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.
  PUCK. I remember.
  OBERON. That very time I saw, but thou couldst not,
    Flying between the cold moon and the earth
    Cupid, all arm'd; a certain aim he took
    At a fair vestal, throned by the west,
    And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow,
    As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts;
    But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft
    Quench'd in the chaste beams of the wat'ry moon;
    And the imperial vot'ress passed on,
    In maiden meditation, fancy-free.
    Yet 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 flow'r, the herb I showed thee once.
    The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid
    Will make or 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.
  PUCK. I'll put a girdle round about the earth
    In forty minutes.                                  Exit PUCK
  OBERON. Having once this juice,
    I'll watch Titania when she is asleep,
    And drop the liquor of it in her eyes;
    The next thing then she waking looks upon,
    Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull,
    On meddling monkey, or on busy ape,
    She shall pursue it with the soul of love.
    And ere I take this charm from off her sight,
    As I can take it with another herb,
    I'll make her render up her page to me.
    But who comes here? I am invisible;
    And I will overhear their conference.

               Enter DEMETRIUS, HELENA following him

  DEMETRIUS. I love thee not, therefore pursue me not.
    Where is Lysander and fair Hermia?
    The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me.
    Thou told'st me they were stol'n unto this wood,
    And here am I, and wood within this wood,
    Because I cannot meet my Hermia.
    Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.
  HELENA. 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.
  DEMETRIUS. 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?
  HELENA. And even for that do I love you the more.
    I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius,
    The more you beat me, I will fawn on you.
    Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike 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 dog?
  DEMETRIUS. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit;
    For I am sick when I do look on thee.
  HELENA. And I am sick when I look not on you.
  DEMETRIUS. You do impeach your modesty too much
    To leave the city and commit yourself
    Into the hands of one that loves you not;
    To trust the opportunity of night,
    And the ill counsel of a desert place,
    With the rich worth of your virginity.
  HELENA. 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?
  DEMETRIUS. I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes,
    And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts.
  HELENA. 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.
  DEMETRIUS. I will not stay thy questions; let me go;
    Or, if thou follow me, do not believe
    But I shall do thee mischief in the wood.
  HELENA. Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field,
    You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius!
    Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex.
    We cannot fight for love as men may do;
    We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo.
                                                  Exit DEMETRIUS
    I'll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell,
    To die upon the hand I love so well.             Exit HELENA
  OBERON. Fare thee well, nymph; ere he do leave this grove,
    Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love.

                            Re-enter PUCK

    Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer.
  PUCK. Ay, there it is.
  OBERON. I pray thee give it me.
    I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
    Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
    Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
    With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine;
    There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,
    Lull'd 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 his eyes;
    But do it when the next thing he espies
    May be the lady. Thou shalt know the man
    By the Athenian garments he hath on.
    Effect it with some care, that he may prove
    More fond on her than she upon her love.
    And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow.
  PUCK. Fear not, my lord; your servant shall do so.      Exeunt

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: This scene transports its viewers from Athens into the woods outside of the city, the dwelling place of Oberon, Titania, and their band of fairies. The scene begins with a conversation between Oberon's mischievous elf Robin Goodfellow, also known as Puck, and one of Titania's attendants. Puck warns her to keep Titania away from this part of the woods because Oberon will be reveling here, and if the two meet there will certainly be a serious quarrel. Oberon is angry with Titania because she refuses to give him a sweet Indian boy upon whom she dotes. Titania's attendant suddenly recognizes Puck, accusing him of being the hobgoblin who is blamed for roguish acts in the village, such as frightening young women or misleading night travelers. Puck admits that he is this "merry wanderer of the night." Suddenly Oberon and Titania enter the scene from opposite directions. Their bickering begins. Each accuses the other of having had affairs, and Titania says Oberon's persecution of her has caused the current chaos in the world: The rivers are flooding, the corn is rotting, and people are plagued by "rheumatic" diseases. Oberon blames Titania; if she would simply relinquish the Indian boy, peace would be restored. Titania refuses to let the boy go because his mother was a close friend of hers, and when she died in childbirth, Titania agreed to raise her son. Hatching a plan to win the Indian boy, Oberon sends Puck in search of a flower called love-in-idleness. When the juice of this magical flower is poured on sleepers' eyelids, it makes them dote crazily on the first live creature they see upon awakening. In this way, Oberon plans to make Titania fall in love with some wild beast; he won't release her from this unpleasant spell until she gives him the Indian boy. After Puck has left in search of the powerful flower, Oberon sits scheming. Demetrius and Helena unknowingly stumble into his bower, but he is invisible to them. Helena actively pursues her beloved, but Demetrius vows to hurt her if she doesn't leave him alone. After they have left, Puck returns. Taking pity on Helena, Oberon tells Puck to anoint the eyes of the Athenian man so that he will fall in love with this jilted woman. Puck promises to fulfill Oberon's order, though Puck hasn't seen Demetrius, so he doesn't know which Athenian Oberon is talking about.


prompt:
Chapter: SCENE II.
Another part of the wood

Enter TITANIA, with her train

  TITANIA. 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

  FIRST FAIRY. You spotted snakes with double tongue,
               Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
               Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong,
               Come not near our fairy Queen.
  CHORUS.      Philomel with melody
               Sing in our sweet lullaby.
               Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby.
               Never harm
               Nor spell nor charm
               Come our lovely lady nigh.
               So good night, with lullaby.
  SECOND FAIRY.  Weaving spiders, come not here;
                 Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence.
                 Beetles black, approach not near;
                 Worm nor snail do no offence.
  CHORUS.      Philomel with melody, etc.       [TITANIA sleeps]
  FIRST FAIRY. Hence away; now all is well.
               One aloof stand sentinel.          Exeunt FAIRIES

      Enter OBERON and squeezes the flower on TITANIA'S eyelids

  OBERON. What thou seest when thou dost wake,
    Do it for thy true-love take;
    Love and languish for his 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.                      Exit

                     Enter LYSANDER and HERMIA

  LYSANDER. Fair love, you faint with wand'ring in the wood;
    And, to speak troth, I have forgot our way;
    We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good,
    And tarry for the comfort of the day.
  HERMIA. Be it so, Lysander: find you out a bed,
    For I upon this bank will rest my head.
  LYSANDER. One turf shall serve as pillow for us both;
    One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth.
  HERMIA. Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear,
    Lie further off yet; do not lie so near.
  LYSANDER. 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 interchained with an oath,
    So then two bosoms and a single troth.
    Then by your side no bed-room me deny,
    For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.
  HERMIA. Lysander riddles very prettily.
    Now much beshrew my manners and my pride,
    If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied!
    But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy
    Lie further off, in human modesty;
    Such separation as may well be said
    Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid,
    So far be distant; and good night, sweet friend.
    Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end!
  LYSANDER. Amen, amen, to that fair prayer say I;
    And then end life when I end loyalty!
    Here is my bed; sleep give thee all his rest!
  HERMIA. With half that wish the wisher's eyes be press'd!
                                                    [They sleep]

                          Enter PUCK

  PUCK.      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?
             Weeds of Athens he doth wear:
             This is he, my master 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 lack-love, this kill-courtesy.
             Churl, upon thy 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 when I am gone;
             For I must now to Oberon.                      Exit

               Enter DEMETRIUS and HELENA, running

  HELENA. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.
  DEMETRIUS. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.
  HELENA. O, wilt thou darkling leave me? Do not so.
  DEMETRIUS. Stay on thy peril; I alone will go.            Exit
  HELENA. O, I am out of breath in this fond chase!
    The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.
    Happy is Hermia, 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 oft'ner wash'd than hers.
    No, no, I am as ugly as a bear,
    For beasts that meet me run away for fear;
    Therefore no marvel though Demetrius
    Do, as a monster, fly my presence thus.
    What wicked and dissembling glass of mine
    Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne?
    But who is here? Lysander! on the ground!
    Dead, or asleep? I see no blood, no wound.
    Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake.
  LYSANDER. [Waking] And run through fire I will for thy sweet
sake.
    Transparent Helena! Nature shows art,
    That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.
    Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word
    Is that vile name to perish on my sword!
  HELENA. Do not say so, Lysander; say not so.
    What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though?
    Yet Hermia still loves you; then be content.
  LYSANDER. Content with Hermia! No: I do repent
    The tedious minutes I with her have spent.
    Not Hermia but Helena I love:
    Who will not change a raven for a dove?
    The will of man is by his 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.
  HELENA. 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 man,
    That I did never, no, nor never can,
    Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' 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 lord of more true gentleness.
    O, that a lady of one man refus'd
    Should of another therefore be abus'd!                  Exit
  LYSANDER. She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there;
    And never mayst thou come Lysander near!
    For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things
    The deepest loathing to the stomach brings,
    Or as the heresies that men do leave
    Are hated most of those they did deceive,
    So thou, my surfeit and my heresy,
    Of all be hated, but the most of me!
    And, all my powers, address your love and might
    To honour Helen, and to be her knight!                  Exit
  HERMIA. [Starting] Help me, Lysander, help me; do thy best
    To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast.
    Ay me, for pity! What a dream was here!
    Lysander, look how I do quake with fear.
    Methought a serpent eat my heart away,
    And you sat smiling at his cruel prey.
    Lysander! What, remov'd? Lysander! lord!
    What, out of hearing gone? No sound, no word?
    Alack, where are you? Speak, an 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.              Exit

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Titania's fairies sing her a soothing lullaby as she prepares for sleep. While she rests, Oberon creeps up, squeezes the potion onto her eyelids and utters a spell to make her awaken when something vile is near. When Oberon leaves, Lysander and Hermia wander into Titania's bower, but she is invisible to them. The lovers are lost, and Lysander suggests they stop to sleep for the night. Hermia agrees but won't let him sleep too close to her, even though Lysander claims that, because they are engaged, they can sleep innocently side by side. But Hermia insists on separation, so they sleep a short distance apart. After they have fallen asleep, Puck enters, searching for the Athenian whose eyes Oberon wanted him to anoint with the love juice. Seeing Lysander and Hermia lying apart from each other, he mistakes them for Demetrius and Helena and erroneously applies the magical juice to Lysander. After Puck exits, Demetrius and Helena run into the bower. Helena is in frantic pursuit of her beloved, but he manages to flee his pursuer and sprints into the woods. Depressed and exhausted, Helena stops to rest and notices Lysander asleep on the ground. She wakes him and, thanks to Puck's potion, he immediately falls in love with her. When he claims to have abandoned Hermia, who he now describes as dull and unattractive, Helena assumes he is teasing her so she runs away. Lysander chases after her, and Hermia awakens. She has been dreaming about a fearful snake that ate her heart awake. Frightened that Lysander has disappeared, she, too, rushes into the woods.


prompt:
Chapter: ACT III. SCENE I.
The wood. TITANIA lying asleep

Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING

  BOTTOM. Are we all met?
  QUINCE. 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.
  BOTTOM. Peter Quince!
  QUINCE. What sayest thou, bully Bottom?
  BOTTOM. There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby
that
    will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill
    himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?
  SNOUT. By'r lakin, a parlous fear.
  STARVELING. I believe we must leave the killing out, when all
is
    done.
  BOTTOM. 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 swords, and that Pyramus is not kill'd indeed; and
for
    the more better assurance, tell them that I Pyramus am not
    Pyramus but Bottom the weaver. This will put them out of
fear.
  QUINCE. Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be
written
    in eight and six.
  BOTTOM. No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and
eight.
  SNOUT. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion?
  STARVELING. I fear it, I promise you.
  BOTTOM. Masters, you ought to consider with yourself to bring
in-
    God shield us!- a lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing;
for
    there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living;
and
    we ought to look to't.
  SNOUT. Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion.
  BOTTOM. Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be
seen
    through the lion's neck; and he himself must speak through,
    saying thus, or to the same effect: '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 lion, it were pity of my life. No, I am no
such
    thing; I am a man as other men are.' And there, indeed, let
him
    name his name, and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner.
  QUINCE. Well, it shall be so. But there is two hard things-
that
    is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for, you know,
Pyramus
    and Thisby meet by moonlight.
  SNOUT. Doth the moon shine that night we play our play?
  BOTTOM. A calendar, a calendar! Look in the almanack; find out
    moonshine, find out moonshine.
  QUINCE. Yes, it doth shine that night.
  BOTTOM. Why, then may you leave a casement of the great chamber
    window, where we play, open; and the moon may shine in at the
    casement.
  QUINCE. Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and
a
    lantern, and say he comes to disfigure or to present the
person
    of Moonshine. Then there is another thing: we must have a
wall in
    the great chamber; for Pyramus and Thisby, says the story,
did
    talk through the chink of a wall.
  SNOUT. You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom?
  BOTTOM. Some man or other must present Wall; and let him have
some
    plaster, or some loam, or some rough-cast about him, to
signify
    wall; and let him hold his fingers thus, and through that
cranny
    shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper.
  QUINCE. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down, every
    mother's son, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin;
when
    you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake; and so
every
    one according to his cue.

                          Enter PUCK behind

  PUCK. What hempen homespuns have we swagg'ring here,
    So near the cradle of the Fairy Queen?
    What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor;
    An actor too perhaps, if I see cause.
  QUINCE. Speak, Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth.
  BOTTOM. Thisby, the flowers of odious savours sweet-
  QUINCE. 'Odious'- odorous!
  BOTTOM. -odours savours sweet;
    So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear.
    But hark, a voice! Stay thou but here awhile,
    And by and by I will to thee appear.                    Exit
  PUCK. A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here!           Exit
  FLUTE. Must I speak now?
  QUINCE. Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he goes
but to
    see a noise that he heard, and is to come again.
  FLUTE. Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue,
    Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier,
    Most brisky juvenal, and eke most lovely Jew,
    As true as truest horse, that would never tire,
    I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb.
  QUINCE. 'Ninus' tomb,' man! Why, you must not speak that yet;
that
    you answer to Pyramus. You speak all your part at once, cues,
and
    all. Pyramus enter: your cue is past; it is 'never tire.'
  FLUTE. O- As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire.

            Re-enter PUCK, and BOTTOM with an ass's head

  BOTTOM. If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine.
  QUINCE. O monstrous! O strange! We are haunted. Pray, masters!
fly,
    masters! Help!
                                  Exeunt all but BOTTOM and PUCK
  PUCK. 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;
    And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn,
    Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn.
Exit
  BOTTOM. Why do they run away? This is a knavery of them to make
me
    afeard.

                          Re-enter SNOUT

  SNOUT. O Bottom, thou art chang'd! What do I see on thee?
  BOTTOM. What do you see? You see an ass-head of your own, do
you?
                                                      Exit SNOUT

                          Re-enter QUINCE

  QUINCE. Bless thee, Bottom, bless thee! Thou art translated.
 Exit
  BOTTOM. I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me; to
    fright me, if they could. But I will not stir from this
place, do
    what they can; I will walk up and down here, and will sing,
that
    they shall hear I am not afraid.                     [Sings]

          The ousel cock, so black of hue,
            With orange-tawny bill,
          The throstle with his note so true,
            The wren with little quill.

  TITANIA. What angel wakes me from my flow'ry bed?
  BOTTOM. [Sings]
          The finch, the sparrow, and the lark,
            The plain-song cuckoo grey,
          Whose note full many a man doth mark,
            And dares not answer nay-
    for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird?
    Who would give a bird the lie, though he cry 'cuckoo' never
so?
  TITANIA. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again.
    Mine ear is much enamoured 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, to swear, I love thee.
  BOTTOM. 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. Nay, I can gleek upon
    occasion.
  TITANIA. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.
  BOTTOM. Not so, neither; but if I had wit enough to get out of
this
    wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn.
  TITANIA. Out of this wood do not desire to go;
    Thou shalt remain here whether thou wilt or no.
    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 on pressed flowers dost sleep;
    And I will purge thy mortal grossness so
    That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.
    Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed!

       Enter PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH, and MUSTARDSEED

  PEASEBLOSSOM. Ready.
  COBWEB. And I.
  MOTH. And I.
  MUSTARDSEED. And I.
  ALL. Where shall we go?
  TITANIA. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman;
    Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes;
    Feed him with apricocks 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.
  PEASEBLOSSOM. Hail, mortal!
  COBWEB. Hail!
  MOTH. Hail!
  MUSTARDSEED. Hail!
  BOTTOM. I cry your worships mercy, heartily; I beseech your
    worship's name.
  COBWEB. Cobweb.
  BOTTOM. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master
    Cobweb. If I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you. Your
    name, honest gentleman?
  PEASEBLOSSOM. Peaseblossom.
  BOTTOM. I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother,
and
    to Master Peascod, your father. Good Master Peaseblossom, I
shall
    desire you of more acquaintance too. Your name, I beseech
you,
    sir?
  MUSTARDSEED. Mustardseed.
  BOTTOM. Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well.
That
    same cowardly giant-like ox-beef hath devour'd many a
gentleman
    of your house. I promise you your kindred hath made my eyes
water
    ere now. I desire you of more acquaintance, good Master
    Mustardseed.
  TITANIA. Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower.
    The moon, methinks, looks with a wat'ry eye;
    And when she weeps, weeps every little flower;
    Lamenting some enforced chastity.
    Tie up my love's tongue, bring him silently.          Exeunt

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Comedy returns to the play in the opening of this scene. Peter Quince and his company are rehearsing their rendition of Pyramus and Thisbe. Bottom has serious reservations about the play: Pyramus kills himself with a sword, and the lion is frightening, both factors that are sure to terrify the women in the audience. The other players agree, wondering if the play should be abandoned, but Bottom has a solution. A prologue needs to be written to explain that Pyramus is only an actor, and the actor playing the lion must show half of his face during his performance and tell the audience his true identity. With these problems successfully solved, Quince mentions two other difficulties with the upcoming performance: It requires moonshine and a wall. After consulting a calendar, they discover that the moon will be shining on the night of the performance, so they can simply leave a window open. The wall is a greater dilemma for these silly men. Finally, Bottom discovers a solution: An actor covered in plaster will play the role of the wall. Everyone agrees, and the rehearsal begins. Puck eavesdrops on the performance, amused by the way these actors butcher their lines. The egotistical Bottom sits in the bushes, waiting his cue, and Puck can't resist playing a joke on him: He gives Bottom an ass' head. When Bottom enters, declaring his love for Thisbe, the other terrified actors dash into the woods. Unaware of his transformation, Bottom has no idea what has frightened them. As he walks singing through the woods, Titania, with the love juice on her eyes, awakens and falls immediately in love with the beastly Bottom. She appoints four fairies -- Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Mote, and Mustardseed -- to serve the needs of her new lover.