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

Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, LORDS, and ATTENDANTS

  HIPPOLYTA. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak
of.
  THESEUS. More strange than true. I never may believe
    These antique fables, nor these fairy toys.
    Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
    Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
    More than cool reason ever comprehends.
    The lunatic, the lover, and the poet,
    Are of imagination all compact.
    One sees more devils than vast hell can hold;
    That is the madman. The lover, all as frantic,
    Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt.
    The poet's eye, in 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 suppos'd a bear?
  HIPPOLYTA. 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.

          Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and HELENA

  THESEUS. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.
    Joy, gentle friends, joy and fresh days of love
    Accompany your hearts!
  LYSANDER. More than to us
    Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed!
  THESEUS. Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have,
    To wear away this long age of three hours
    Between our after-supper and bed-time?
    Where is our usual manager of mirth?
    What revels are in hand? Is there no play
    To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
    Call Philostrate.
  PHILOSTRATE. Here, mighty Theseus.
  THESEUS. Say, what abridgment have you for this evening?
    What masque? what music? How shall we beguile
    The lazy time, if not with some delight?
  PHILOSTRATE. There is a brief how many sports are ripe;
    Make choice of which your Highness will see first.
                                                [Giving a paper]
  THESEUS. 'The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung
    By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.'
    We'll none of that: that have I told my love,
    In glory of my kinsman Hercules.
    '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 Thebes came last a conqueror.
    '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 young Pyramus
    And his love Thisby; 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?
  PHILOSTRATE. A play there is, my lord, some ten words long,
    Which is as brief as I have known a play;
    But by ten words, my lord, it is too long,
    Which makes it tedious; for in all the play
    There is not one word apt, one player fitted.
    And tragical, my noble lord, it is;
    For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
    Which when I saw rehears'd, I must confess,
    Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
    The passion of loud laughter never shed.
  THESEUS. What are they that do play it?
  PHILOSTRATE. Hard-handed men that work in Athens here,
    Which never labour'd in their minds till now;
    And now have toil'd their unbreathed memories
    With this same play against your nuptial.
  THESEUS. And we will hear it.
  PHILOSTRATE. No, my noble lord,
    It is not for you. I have heard it over,
    And it is nothing, nothing in the world;
    Unless you can find sport in their intents,
    Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain,
    To do you service.
  THESEUS. 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.
                                                Exit PHILOSTRATE
  HIPPOLYTA. I love not to see wretchedness o'er-charged,
    And duty in his service perishing.
  THESEUS. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.
  HIPPOLYTA. He says they can do nothing in this kind.
  THESEUS. 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 broke 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.

                       Re-enter PHILOSTRATE

  PHILOSTRATE. So please your Grace, the Prologue is address'd.
  THESEUS. Let him approach.              [Flourish of trumpets]

                 Enter QUINCE as the PROLOGUE

  PROLOGUE. If we offend, it is with our good will.
    That you should think, we come not to offend,
    But with good will. To show our simple skill,
    That is the true beginning of our end.
    Consider then, we come but in despite.
    We do not come, as minding to 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,
  THESEUS. This fellow doth not stand upon points.
  LYSANDER. He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows
not
    the stop. A good moral, my lord: it is not enough to speak,
but
    to speak true.
  HIPPOLYTA. Indeed he hath play'd on this prologue like a child
on a
    recorder- a sound, but not in government.
  THESEUS. His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing im
paired,
    but all disordered. Who is next?

          Enter, with a trumpet before them, as in dumb show,
            PYRAMUS and THISBY, WALL, MOONSHINE, and LION

  PROLOGUE. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show;
    But wonder on, till truth make all things plain.
    This man is Pyramus, if you would know;
    This beauteous lady Thisby is certain.
    This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present
    Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder;
    And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they are content
    To whisper. At the which let no man wonder.
    This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn,
    Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know,
    By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn
    To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.
    This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name,
    The trusty Thisby, coming first by night,
    Did scare away, or rather did affright;
    And as she fled, her mantle she did fall;
    Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain.
    Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall,
    And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain;
    Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
    He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast;
    And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade,
    His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,
    Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain,
    At large discourse while here they do remain.
                               Exeunt PROLOGUE, PYRAMUS, THISBY,
                                             LION, and MOONSHINE
  THESEUS. I wonder if the lion be to speak.
  DEMETRIUS. No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses
do.
  WALL. In this same interlude it doth befall
    That I, one Snout by name, present a wall;
    And such a wall as I would have you think
    That had in it a crannied hole or chink,
    Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby,
    Did whisper often very secretly.
    This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show
    That I am that same wall; the truth is so;
    And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
    Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.
  THESEUS. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?
  DEMETRIUS. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard
    discourse, my lord.

                       Enter PYRAMUS

  THESEUS. Pyramus draws near the wall; silence.
  PYRAMUS. 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 Thisby's promise is forgot!
    And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall,
    That stand'st between her father's ground and mine;
    Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall,
    Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne.
                                     [WALL holds up his fingers]
    Thanks, courteous wall. Jove shield thee well for this!
    But what see what see I? No Thisby do I see.
    O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss,
    Curs'd be thy stones for thus deceiving me!
  THESEUS. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse
again.
  PYRAMUS. No, in truth, sir, he should not. Deceiving me is
Thisby's
    cue. She is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the
wall.
    You shall see it will fall pat as I told you; yonder she
comes.

                          Enter THISBY

  THISBY. O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans,
    For parting my fair Pyramus and me!
    My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones,
    Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.
  PYRAMUS. I see a voice; now will I to the chink,
    To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face.
    Thisby!
  THISBY. My love! thou art my love, I think.
  PYRAMUS. Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace;
    And like Limander am I trusty still.
  THISBY. And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill.
  PYRAMUS. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.
  THISBY. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.
  PYRAMUS. O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall.
  THISBY. I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.
  PYRAMUS. Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway?
  THISBY. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay.
                                       Exeunt PYRAMUS and THISBY
  WALL. Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so;
    And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.           Exit WALL
  THESEUS. Now is the moon used between the two neighbours.
  DEMETRIUS. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear
    without warning.
  HIPPOLYTA. This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.
  THESEUS. The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst
are
    no worse, if imagination amend them.
  HIPPOLYTA. It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.
  THESEUS. If we imagine no worse of them than they of
themselves,
    they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts
in, a
    man and a lion.

                   Enter LION and MOONSHINE

  LION. You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear
    The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,
    May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here,
    When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.
    Then know that I as Snug the joiner am
    A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam;
    For, if I should as lion come in strife
    Into this place, 'twere pity on my life.
  THESEUS. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.
  DEMETRIUS. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw.
  LYSANDER. This lion is a very fox for his valour.
  THESEUS. True; and a goose for his discretion.
  DEMETRIUS. Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his
    discretion, and the fox carries the goose.
  THESEUS. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour;
for
    the goose carries not the fox. It is well. Leave it to his
    discretion, and let us listen to the Moon.
  MOONSHINE. This lanthorn doth the horned moon present-
  DEMETRIUS. He should have worn the horns on his head.
  THESEUS. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within
the
    circumference.
  MOONSHINE. This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;
    Myself the Man i' th' Moon do seem to be.
  THESEUS. This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man
should
    be put into the lantern. How is it else the man i' th' moon?
  DEMETRIUS. He dares not come there for the candle; for, you
see, it
    is already in snuff.
  HIPPOLYTA. I am aweary of this moon. Would he would change!
  THESEUS. It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he
is
    in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must
stay
    the time.
  LYSANDER. Proceed, Moon.
  MOONSHINE. All that I have to say is to tell you that the lanthorn
is
    the moon; I, the Man i' th' Moon; this thorn-bush, my
thorn-bush;
    and this dog, my dog.
  DEMETRIUS. Why, all these should be in the lantern; for all
these
    are in the moon. But silence; here comes Thisby.

                        Re-enter THISBY

  THISBY. This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love?
  LION. [Roaring] O-                           [THISBY runs off]
  DEMETRIUS. Well roar'd, Lion.
  THESEUS. Well run, Thisby.
  HIPPOLYTA. Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with a good
    grace.            [The LION tears THISBY'S Mantle, and exit]
  THESEUS. Well mous'd, Lion.

                        Re-enter PYRAMUS

  DEMETRIUS. And then came Pyramus.
  LYSANDER. And so the lion vanish'd.
  PYRAMUS. Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;
    I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright;
    For, by thy gracious golden, glittering gleams,
    I trust to take of truest Thisby sight.
             But stay, O spite!
             But mark, poor knight,
           What dreadful dole is here!
             Eyes, do you see?
             How can it be?
           O dainty duck! O dear!
             Thy mantle good,
             What! stain'd with blood?
           Approach, ye Furies fell.
             O Fates! come, come;
             Cut thread and thrum;
           Quail, crush, conclude, and quell.
  THESEUS. This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go
    near to make a man look sad.
  HIPPOLYTA. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.
  PYRAMUS. O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame?
    Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear;
    Which is- no, no- which was the fairest dame
    That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheer.
             Come, tears, confound;
             Out, sword, and wound
           The pap of Pyramus;
             Ay, that left pap,
             Where heart doth hop.               [Stabs himself]
           Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.
             Now am I dead,
             Now am I fled;
           My soul is in the sky.
             Tongue, lose thy light;
             Moon, take thy flight.             [Exit MOONSHINE]
           Now die, die, die, die, die.                   [Dies]
  DEMETRIUS. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one.
  LYSANDER. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing.
  THESEUS. With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover and
yet prove an ass.
  HIPPOLYTA. How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisby comes
back
    and finds her lover?

                       Re-enter THISBY

  THESEUS. She will find him by starlight. Here she comes; and
her
    passion ends the play.
  HIPPOLYTA. Methinks she should not use a long one for such a
    Pyramus; I hope she will be brief.
  DEMETRIUS. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which
    Thisby, is the better- he for a man, God warrant us: She for
a
    woman, God bless us!
  LYSANDER. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.
  DEMETRIUS. And thus she moans, videlicet:-
  THISBY.      Asleep, my love?
               What, dead, my dove?
             O Pyramus, arise,
               Speak, speak. Quite dumb?
               Dead, dead? A tomb
             Must cover thy sweet eyes.
               These lily lips,
               This cherry nose,
             These yellow cowslip cheeks,
               Are gone, are gone;
               Lovers, make moan;
             His eyes were green as leeks.
               O Sisters Three,
               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 sword;
             Come, blade, my breast imbrue.      [Stabs herself]
               And farewell, friends;
               Thus Thisby ends;
             Adieu, adieu, adieu.                         [Dies]
  THESEUS. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead.
  DEMETRIUS. Ay, and Wall too.
  BOTTOM. [Starting up] No, I assure you; the wall is down that
    parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the Epilogue,
or
    to hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company?
  THESEUS. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no
excuse.
    Never excuse; for when the players are all dead there need
none
    to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it had played Pyramus,
and
    hang'd himself in Thisby's garter, it would have been a fine
    tragedy. And so it is, truly; and very notably discharg'd.
But
    come, your Bergomask; let your epilogue alone.     [A dance]
    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 palpable-gross 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.                    Exeunt

                     Enter PUCK with a broom

  PUCK.      Now the hungry lion roars,
             And the wolf behowls the moon;
             Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
             All with weary task fordone.
             Now the wasted brands do glow,
             Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
             Puts the wretch that lies in woe
             In remembrance of a shroud.
             Now it is the time of night
             That the graves, all gaping wide,
             Every one lets forth his sprite,
             In the church-way paths to glide.
             And we fairies, that do run
             By the triple Hecate's team
             From the presence of the sun,
             Following darkness like a dream,
             Now are frolic. Not a mouse
             Shall disturb this hallowed house.
             I am sent with broom before,
             To sweep the dust behind the door.

         Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with all their train

  OBERON.    Through the house give glimmering light,
             By the dead and drowsy fire;
             Every elf and fairy sprite
             Hop as light as bird from brier;
             And this ditty, after me,
             Sing and dance it trippingly.
  TITANIA.      First, rehearse your song by rote,
                To each word a warbling note;
                Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
                Will we sing, and bless this place.

           [OBERON leading, the FAIRIES sing and dance]

  OBERON.    Now, until the break of day,
             Through this house each fairy stray.
             To the best bride-bed will we,
             Which by us shall blessed be;
             And the issue there create
             Ever shall be fortunate.
             So shall all the couples three
             Ever true in loving be;
             And the blots of Nature's hand
             Shall not in their issue stand;
             Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar,
             Nor mark prodigious, such as are
             Despised in nativity,
             Shall upon their children be.
             With this field-dew consecrate,
             Every fairy take his gait,
             And each several chamber bless,
             Through this palace, with sweet peace;
             And the owner of it blest
             Ever shall in safety rest.
             Trip away; make no stay;
             Meet me all by break of day.    Exeunt all but PUCK
  PUCK.      If we shadows have offended,
             Think but this, and all is mended,
             That you have but slumb'red here
             While these visions did appear.
             And this weak and idle theme,
             No more yielding but a dream,
             Gentles, do not reprehend.
             If you pardon, we will mend.
             And, as I am an honest Puck,
             If we have unearned luck
             Now to scape the serpent's tongue,
             We will make amends ere long;
             Else the Puck a liar call.
             So, good night unto you all.
             Give me your hands, if we be friends,
             And Robin shall restore amends.                Exit

THE END

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

completion: Scene One In the palace where Theseus and Hippolyta reside, the guests are waiting for some form of after dinner entertainment. Theseus has Egeus read him a list of possible performances, and Theseus finally settles on 'A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus and his love Thisbe: very tragical mirth' as the play he wants to see performed. Egeus tries to dissuade him, telling him that the actors are workingmen will no talent, but Theseus is adamant that he watch them perform. Quince delivers the prologue, a masterpiece of writing fraught with sentence fragments which serve to reverse the meaning of the actual phrases: 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. The play is then performed, with numerous linguistic errors and incorrect references making it into a complete farce. Hippolyta condemns the play as being "silly" while Theseus defends it as being nothing more than imaginative. During the performance, Theseus, Lysander, Demetrius and Hippolyta add commentary which criticizes the action, and makes fun of the antics of the laymen. At the end of the play both Bottom and Flute get up from where they are lying, supposedly dead, and offer to perform an epilogue or a bergamask . Theseus quickly intervenes and tells them they need no epilogue, but rather should only perform the dance, which they do. Act Five, Scene Two and Epilogue Puck enters with a broom and sweeps the stage. In a monologue he informs the audience that not even a mouse will disturb the lovers, and it can be inferred that he is protecting their bedchambers. Oberon and Titania arrive in order to bless the union of Theseus and Hippolyta. They perform a fairy dance and depart, leaving Puck alone on stage. Puck's epilogue begs forgiveness of the audience and says: If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended: That you have but slumbered here, While these visions did appear; indicating that if someone did not like the play, then he or she should imagine that it was all a dream.


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: We meet Duke Theseus at his swanky palace in Athens and learn that he's going to marry Hippolyta in four days, during the new moon. Our groom-to-be is in a VERY big hurry to enjoy his wedding night, but time is passing way too slowly for Theseus, who lashes out at the moon for being a slowpoke. Hippolyta is more reasonable. She assures Theseus that four days will go by in a jiffy and says the moon will "behold the night of solemnities." Theseus sends this guy, Philostrate, the Master of the Revels, to go out into the streets of Athens and get the youth of the city to party so that the time passes quickly. Brain Snack: In Shakespeare's day, the Master of the Revels was the title of the royal court's official party planner. Basically, the Master of the Revels was in charge of hiring entertainers and deciding which plays could be performed on public stages in and around London. He also had the authority to censor plays that were offensive or didn't kiss up to the monarch enough. Theseus turns to Hippolyta and promises her that their wedding will be more joyful than the circumstances under which they got engaged. An Athenian man named Egeus shows up and greets Theseus. Egeus has brought along his daughter Hermia and two guys named Lysander and Demetrius. Egeus is not a happy camper. He lodges a formal complaint to the Duke against his disobedient daughter, who refuses to marry Demetrius, the guy Egeus has chosen to be her husband. According to Egeus, Hermia's been "bewitch'd" by Lysander and refuses to marry Demetrius. Egeus then cites the wrongs Lysander has committed: Lysander has presented Hermia with various love-tokens, serenaded her by moonlight, and even given her a lock of his hair. Egeus points out that Hermia is his daughter and therefore his property. Athenian law dictates that Hermia has to marry the guy of his choice... or be put to death. Brain Snack: In Shakespeare's England, parents really liked to pick out their kids' spouses. Sometimes, parents even filed lawsuits to try to force their kids into arranged marriages. Theseus puts on his Dr. Phil hat and tries to reason with Hermia, but our girl flat-out refuses to marry Demetrius. Hermia asks the Duke what the worst-case scenario would be if she didn't marry Demetrius. Theseus says that, if Hermia refuses to marry Demetrius, she has only two other options: 1) Become a celibate nun or 2) Be put to death. Things aren't looking good for Hermia. Theseus warns that being a nun is not so great and suggests that Hermia just bite the bullet and marry Demetrius. Hermia declares she would rather die a virgin than marry a guy she doesn't love. Theseus tells her she should really reconsider and gives her four days to declare her own fate. In other words, Hermia has until Theseus and Hippolyta's wedding day to decide if she'll get married, become a nun, or be sent to the chopping block. Demetrius tries to get Hermia and Lysander to give in, but Lysander points out that since Hermia's dad loves Demetrius so much, maybe the two of them should get married. Lysander defends his right to marry Hermia: he's equal to Demetrius in pedigree, better off financially, and besides, Hermia actually loves him. Furthermore, Lysander claims that Demetrius is known to have previously courted Hermia's friend, Helena, who still has a crush on Demetrius. Theseus says he's heard about this and meant to have a talk with Demetrius about it. Theseus calls Egeus and Demetrius away with him so he can give them some advice. Before the men leave, Theseus advises Hermia to be a good girl and listen to her dad, or deal with Athenian law. Lysander and Hermia are left to discuss their bad luck. Hermia is really upset by the whole death/nun ultimatum. Lysander tries to take everything in strideand famously declares "the course of true love never did run smooth." Hermia declares that they should be patient because they're destined to be together. Lysander then pipes up that he has a rich, widowed aunt who lives outside of Athens and loves him like a son. They can run away to auntie's house and get hitched because she lives outside the reach of Athenian law. Hermia agrees to meet Lysander in the woods tomorrow night. From there, they can run off and pull a Romeo and Juliet . Hermia's friend Helena then shows up. Helena's a mess because she loves Demetrius but Demetrius wants to marry Hermia. Helena says she wishes she could be more like Hermia--pretty, sweet-voiced, and good at making men fall in love with her. Hermia points out she hasn't done much to inspire Demetrius. The more she frowns, curses, and hates him, the more he loves her. Go figure. Helena has done the opposite, and Demetrius won't give her the time of day. Hermia then tells Helena to relax--Demetrius won't be distracted by Hermia anymore because Hermia's going to run off and get hitched to Lysander. The lovers explain their plan to Helena: Tomorrow night, they'll meet up in the woods and then run away to get married. The happy lovers exit after wishing Helena good luck with Demetrius. Helena, now alone, feels sorry for herself for being in love with a guy who won't give her the time of day. Helena tries to understand why Demetrius fell out of love with her . Helena decides the best thing to do is tattle to Demetrius that Hermia plans to elope with Lysander. She reasons that she's got nothing to lose and thinks that maybe Demetrius will be so grateful that he'll change his mind and fall in love with her again.


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: Elsewhere in Athens, a group of "Mechanicals" meet up to practice a play they plan to perform at Theseus and Hippolyta's upcoming wedding. Individually, they are Peter Quince the carpenter, Snug the joiner, Bottom the weaver, Flute the bellows mender, Snout the tinker, and Starveling the tailor. Quince is the brains of the operation, and he'll lead the Mechanicals as they rehearse and then perform the chosen play, The most lamentable comedy and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisbe. Brain Snack: Pyramus and Thisbe is a story from Roman mythology about two young lovers who die tragically after running off to elope. Sound familiar? It's one of the major literary sources for Romeo and Juliet, which Shakespeare wrote around the same time as A Midsummer Night's Dream. Shakespeare got the story of Pyramus and Thisbe from Book 4 of Ovid's Metamorphoses. Bottom, who is definitely not the brains of the operation, announces that it sounds like a happy piece of work for the wedding night. We're guessing that Bottom missed the whole "cruel death" part. Quince proceeds to assign each man his role. Bottom is to be "Pyramus," the male lead. Bottom asks if Pyramus is a lover or a tyrant. Quince responds that Pyramus is a lover who dies for love. Bottom promises to bring the audience to tears, though he thinks he'd be better at playing a tyrant. He's also sure he could put on a good Hercules. Bottom delivers some really bad poetry to prove the point. Quince keeps reading down the role assignments. Flute will be "Thisbe." Unfortunately, Thisbe is not the wandering knight Flute had hoped, but a woman in love . Flute claims he can't do this role because he's sure his beard will grow in soon. Anyway, Quince points out that the peach fuzz is irrelevant; Flute will play Thisbe in a mask. Deal with it. Bottom heartily volunteers to play Thisbe, too, and claims he can make his voice tiny, womanly, and beautiful. Quince continues to assign the roles: Starveling will be Thisbe's mother and Quince, her father. Snout will play Pyramus's father, and Snug will play the part of the lion, which is nothing but roaring. After hearing about the roaring, Bottom offers to play the lion, too, as he can roar quite fearsomely. Still, the terrifying noises might upset the ladies, so Bottom volunteers to roar as gently as a dove. Quince cuts off all of this nonsense: Bottom must play Pyramus because he's the prettiest and most gentlemanly of the group. Then there's a long discussion about what kind of beard Bottom should have for the role. Bottom wonders if he should wear a "French-crown-colour beard" . Quince takes this opportunity to crack a dirty joke about there being so many bald "French crowns" in the world. After this little exchange, Quince tells his crew to memorize their lines and meet in the woods tomorrow night. Since it's private and shielded from the Athenian court, it's the perfect rehearsal spot. Bottom confirms the plans, as well as his commitment to act obscenely , and the craftsmen depart. Brain Snack: When Shakespeare wrote A Midsummer Night's Dream, craftsmen didn't usually run around putting on plays like this. Back in early medieval England, though, guilds of craftsmen got together each year and put on plays for the Corpus Christi festival. So, Shakespeare's "Mechanicals" are a shout-out to the craftsmen who moonlighted as amateur actors each year.


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: In an enchanted wood, we meet a "puck" named Robin Goodfellow. Puck greets a fairy, who says she's been busy wandering "over hill, over dale, / Thorough bush, thorough brier, / Over park, over pale." Translation: She flies around the woods running errands for the Fairy Queen . The fairy announces that she needs to collect some more dewdrops and deposit pearls in some flowers because her boss, the Fairy Queen is on her way and she wants the place to look nice. After this lovely and enchanting speech, the fairy insults Puck by calling him a "lob" of spirits, which is basically means that Puck is the hillbilly of the spirit world. Puck snaps back that the Fairy King is also having a fairy party that night, so the Fairy Queen better watch her back and stay out of Oberon's way. Pucks says that Titania and Oberon have been fighting over a "lovely boy stol'n from an Indian king." Oberon wants the kid to be his personal page , but Titania wants him for herself--she spends all her time crowning him with flowers and doting on him. We learn that Titania and Oberon are supposed to be a couple, but they don't even spend time together anymore. The fairy recognizes Puck and tells us all about his infamous pranks: frightening village girls, ruining batches of homemade butter, leading people astray as they travel at night, and so on. Puck brags that his boss, Oberon, loves his pranks and tricks. Puck also tells us about the good times he's had making old ladies spill their drinks and fall on the ground . Just then, Titania and Oberon enter from opposite sides of the stage and face off like a couple of cowboys at the O.K. Corral instead of the King and Queen of Fairy Land. Titania orders her fairies to scram and tells us that she's no longer sharing a bed with Oberon. Titania accuses Oberon of sleeping around with other women--she knows for a fact that Oberon disguised himself as a shepherd so he could hook up with a country girl. Titania then accuses Oberon of being Hippolyta's lover. Oberon fights back. He accuses Titania of having the hots for Theseus and of stealing Theseus away from a bunch of his other mistresses . Titania says he's just jealous--so jealous that he hasn't let her and her fairies do any of their special nature dances since spring, which has the natural world all messed up. Because he keeps interrupting their rituals, it's been windy and foggy, and the rivers are all flooding, which is causing serious damage to the local crops.We learn that Titania and Oberon's big feud has thrown the natural world into chaos. Lately, it's been windy, foggy, and the rivers are all flooding, which is causing serious damage to the local crops. Brain Snack: Some literary scholars say that this is a reference to how, in Europe during the 1590s, seriously bad weather ruined crops, which caused food shortages, which, in turn, caused inflation, hunger, disease, and so on. Oberon says Titania has the power to fix everything, if she would only turn over the "little changeling boy" to him. Brain Snack: A "changeling" is a child that's been secretly switched with another, usually by mischievous fairies. Titania claims that she didn't steal the kid from anyone. She says she's raising the boy as a favor to his dead mother, a human who was a good friend of Titania's back in India. Oberon should just get over it because Titania's never going to give up her foster son. Oberon slyly asks Titania how long she plans to be in the woods. She says she'll stay until Theseus is married. Titania invites Oberon to join her in the fairies' dancing and moonlight revels, but Oberon claims that he'll only participate if he can have the boy. Titania says she wouldn't turn over the little boy for Oberon's whole kingdom and exits before they get into another fight. Oberon vows that Titania won't leave the woods until he pays her back. Oberon calls Puck to him and tells him a little story. One night, Oberon was watching a mermaid riding on a dolphin's back when he saw Cupid try to hit a royal virgin with one of his arrows. Cupid missed his target and instead hit a little white flower , which then turned purple. Brain Snack: Most literary critics agree that the royal virgin Cupid was aiming his arrow at is a shout-out to Shakespeare's monarch, Queen Elizabeth I. Elizabeth never married and made a very big deal about being a virgin queen. Anyway, back to pansies. Oberon asks Puck to bring him the flower because it has magical properties. When the juice of the flower is squeezed on a sleeping person's eyelids, it enchants the sleeper to fall madly in love with the first thing he or she sees upon waking. Puck fetches the flower and Oberon announces he'll put the juice on Titania's eyes. He hopes she'll fall madly in love with some awful, ugly beast. In her lovesickness, he can convince her to give him the little boy. Once his master plan is accomplished, Oberon will remove the spell. Oberon hears some people approaching and announces that, since he's invisible, he can stay and listen to the conversation. Demetrius enters the scene with Helena tagging along behind him. He's searching for Lysander and Hermia, presumably to kill Lysander and win Hermia's heart. Demetrius can't find Hermia, and he really wishes Helena would quit stalking him. Helena says it's Demetrius's fault that she's chasing him. If he wasn't so scrumptious-looking, she wouldn't bother him. Demetrius tells her flat-out that he does not and cannot love her. Helena announces that she's going to follow him around like a "dog" forever. Demetrius says that virgins shouldn't run around the woods at night throwing themselves at men who don't love them. Helena declares that it's not dark out because Demetrius's face shines like a light. Also, she's never alone when she's with him because he's her whole world. Demetrius isn't about to take on the role of her protector in the woods. He says he'll run away from her, hide in the bushes, and leave her to be eaten by a wild beast. Ah, love. Helena tells us she's bucking traditional gender roles by chasing after Demetrius. She doesn't think it's fair that guys can be aggressive when it comes to love but girls can't. Demetrius runs off and Helena chases after him. Meanwhile Oberon has been watching the scene in disgust. He thinks Demetrius is a jerk and decides Demetrius needs some love juice squeezed in his eyes so he'll fall for Helena. Puck returns with the magic pansy. Oberon describes the bank of flowers where Titania sleeps and says he's off to sprinkle the potion on her eyelids. Oberon gives some of the love juice to Puck and tells him to put some drops on Demetrius's eyes--Puck will know who Demetrius is because he's human and he's wearing Athenian clothes. Oberon and Puck agree to meet again soon.


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 instructs her fairies to dance and sing her to sleep. Afterwards, her attendants can go back to their fairy work and disappear. Oberon slips in and manages to get the pansy juice onto Titania eyes before running off. Lysander and Hermia come tripping in after Oberon exits. They're lost so they decide to stop for the night and rest. Lysander wants to sleep close to Hermia but she tells him to back off because they're not married yet. Lysander tries to sweet-talk Hermia but she's not having it. They fall asleep separately. Puck ambles onto the stage. Puck thinks Lysander is Demetrius and sprinkles the love juice on his eyelids. Puck runs off to tell Oberon. Then Demetrius runs onto the stage with Helena chasing after him. Demetrius tells her to scram but she refuses. Demetrius exits the stage, leaving Helena to roam around on her own. Helena, finally weary of running after Demetrius, wanders alone for a bit, talking to herself about how poorly she measures up to Hermia. Hermia's eyes are so much brighter--probably, Helena thinks, because she hasn't spent as much time crying as Helena has. In the middle of her pity party, she notices Lysander on the ground. Worried that he's dead, she shakes him awake. Lysander takes one look at Helena and falls in love at first sight. Then he says he's going to kill Demetrius. Helena is confused and thinks Lysander is mocking her, which adds to the indignity of Demetrius not loving her. She exits, certain that she's being punked. Lysander says he never wants to see Hermia again and deserts her while she's sleeping. Hermia wakes up from a horrible dream. Thinking Lysander is still sleeping near her, she recounts the nightmare: she thought a serpent was eating her heart while Lysander stood by smiling. Hermia then realizes that Lysander's not there. She panics and runs off looking for him, promising she'll either find her love or kill herself.


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: As Titania sleeps on a cushy bed of flowers, the Mechanicals enter the woods to practice their play, Pyramus and Thisbe. Bottom points out that the play has a lot of content that isn't appropriate for Theseus and his bride, like the part where Pyramus draws his sword and kills himself. Starveling suggests they just leave the killing out . Bottom comes up with a marvelous solution. Quince should write a prologue to let all the delicate ladies know that the action isn't real and the characters are only actors. If the women know Pyramus isn't Pyramus, but really only Bottom the weaver, they'll be comforted. Then the Mechanicals quibble over whether the play's lines should be written in the usual style of verse, a line of eight syllables alternating with six. Bottom suggests they write it in the style of eight and eight. Snout then brings up another question: Will the lion in the play frighten the ladies? Starveling admits the lion frightens him. Bottom adds his two cents, saying the group should think twice before bringing a lion in among ladies. Brain Snack: According to the editors of the Norton Shakespeare, this might be an allusion to something that happened at a real-life court entertainment in 1594, when a tame lion was supposed to pull a chariot across the stage. The lion was replaced by an African man so the audience wouldn't be scared. To remedy the situation, Bottom suggests that the actor playing the lion should show his face through his costume. Also, Snug, in the Lion's costume, should tell the ladies that he's not really a lion. With that settled, Quince brings up two more issues. They need moonlight, because Pyramus and Thisbe meet by moonlight. Quince suggests that maybe they could have the guy playing the moon carry a lantern, and be dressed up as the man in the moon, who usually has a dog with him in folklore. The last problem is that they'll need a wall, because, without one, there's no hole in the wall through which Pyramus and Thisbe can talk, which is also a major part of the story. The group decides to have a man dress up as a plastered wall. Also, the guy playing the "part" of the wall should use his fingers to make an O-shaped hole so Pyramus and Thisbe can whisper to each other through it. With all the important casting and staging stuff out of the way, the Mechanicals begin to rehearse. Puck sneaks up to the scene, delighted to have so many fools around. He decides to watch and participate. The men begin to rehearse the play with lots of misspeaking. Flute, as Thisbe, says all his lines at once, instead of waiting for cues. Just as the Mechanicals are clearing up that issue, Bottom comes back onto stage. He now has a donkey's head where his own should be, thanks to one of Puck's tricks. As you might expect, this donkey-Bottom hybrid is frightening. All the other men run away in a panic. Puck follows them, leading the Mechanicals in circles about the dark woods and chasing them in the guise of scary things: a headless bear, hounds, and flames. Snout informs Bottom that he has been transformed. Bottom doesn't believe it and calls Snout an "ass-head." Quince comes back, also claiming Bottom has changed. Bottom then announces that he sees that they're just trying to make "an ass" of him. Yep. This is a case of dramatic irony all right. Go to "Symbolism, Imagery, Allegory" if you want to know more about it. Bottom insists he won't move from this place, and will even sing a song to prove he isn't scared. Bottom's singing wakes Titania . Titania sees Bottom and instantly falls head over heels in love...with an ass. Titania begs Bottom to sing some more. Bottom, a little taken aback, tells her she has no reason to love him. He does add that reason and love aren't related these days. He philosophizes on this for a bit, and Titania praises him for being both wise and beautiful. Bottom says he isn't wise, but only needs enough wit to get out of these woods. Titania informs Bottom that he'll stay whether he wants to or not. She loves him and he will remain with her. Titania promises to have her fairies tend to him - they'll bring him jewels from the deep sea, he'll sleep on flower petals, and she'll rid him of his "mortal grossness" so that he'll be as airy as the fairy spirits. Titania summons her fairies: Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, and Mustardseed. She charges them to tend to her new lover with all the best nature has to offer. The fairies bring in grapes, figs, mulberries, bee's honey, and glowworms to light her bedchamber. In addition, the fairies should fan the moonbeams away from Bottom with the wings plucked off of butterflies. Bottom then does what Bottom does best--he rambles on and cracks a bunch of lame jokes. Titania orders the fairies to bring Bottom to her sleeping space, and to keep him quiet as they do. She also comments that the moon looks sad, likely because someone is being denied love .