posted by LilysLittleTwin
I do not own Harry Potter, or A Midsummer Night's Dream. I did have a dream in summer one time, though...I think.
Now, Lydia, 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 revenue.
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.
Stir up the English youth to merriments;
Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth;
Turn melancholy forth to funerals;
The pale companion is not for our pomp.
Lydia, I woo’d thee with my words,
And won thy love;
I will wed thee in another key,
With pomp, with triumph and with revelling.
Enter LUCIUS, HERMIONE, RON, and HARRY
Happy be Cornelius, our renowned minister!
Thanks, good Lucius: what's the news with thee?
Full of vexation come I, with complaint
Against my child, my daughter Hermione.
Stand forth, Draco. My noble lord,
This man hath my consent to marry her.
Stand forth, Ronald: and my gracious duke,
This man hath bewitched the bosom of my child;
Thou, thou, Ronald, thou hast given her rhymes,
And interchanged love-tokens with my child:
Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung,
With feigning voice verses of feigning love,
And stolen 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 filched my daughter's heart,
Turned her obedience, which is due to me,
To stubborn harshness: and, my gracious duke,
Be it so she; will not here before your grace
Consent to marry with Draco,
I beg the ancient privilege of Hogsmead,
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.
What say you, Hermione? Be advised fair maid:
To you your father should be as a god;
One that composed 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.
Draco is a worthy gentleman.
So is Ronald.
In himself he is;
But in this kind, wanting your father's voice,
The other must be held the worthier.
I would my father looked but with my eyes.
Rather your eyes must with his judgment look.
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 Draco.
Either to die the death or to abjure
Forever the society omen.
Therefore, fair Hermione, 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 Beauxbatons,
For aye to be in 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 distilled,
Than that which withering on the virgin thorn
Grows, lives and dies in single blessedness.
So will I grow, so live, so die,
Ere I will my virgin patent up
Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke
My soul consents not to give sovereignty.
Take time to pause; and, by the next new moon--
The sealing-day between 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 Draco, as he would;
Or on Diana's altar to protest
For aye austerity and single life.
Relent, sweet Hermione: and, Ronald, yield
Thy crazed title to my certain right.
You have her father's love, Draco;
Let me have Hermione's: do you marry him.
Scornful Ronald! 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 Draco.
I am, my lord, as well derived as he,
As well possessed; my love is more than his;
My blood every way as fairly ranked,
If not with vantage, as Draco’s;
And, which is more than all these boasts can be,
I am beloved of beauteous Hermione:
Why should not I then prosecute my right?
Draco, I'll avouch it to his head,
Made love to Nedar's daughter, Pansy,
And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes,
Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry,
Upon this spotted and inconstant man.
I must confess that I have heard so much,
And with Draco thought to have spoke thereof;
But, being over-full of self-affairs,
My mind did lose it. But, Draco, come;
And come, Lucius; you shall go with me,
I have some private schooling for you both.
For you, fair Hermione, 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 Lydia: what cheer, my love?
Draco and Lucius, go along:
I must employ you in some business
Against our nuptial and confer with you
Of something nearly that concerns yourselves.
With duty and desire we follow you.
Exit all but RONALD and HERMIONE
How now, my love! Why is your cheek so pale?
How chance the roses there do fade so fast?
Belike for want of rain, which I could well
Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes.
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,--
O cross! Too high to be enthralled to low.
Or else misgraffed in respect of years,--
O spite! Too old to be engaged to young.
Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,--
O hell! To choose love by another's eyes.
Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
Making it momentany 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 here a man has power to say 'Behold!'
The jaws of darkness do devour it up:
So quick bright things come to confusion.
If then true lovers have been ever crossed,
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.
A good persuasion: therefore, hear me, Hermione.
I have a brother, and sister-in-law
Of great revenue, and they have no child:
From Hogsmead is their house remote seven leagues;
And she respects me as her only son.
There, gentle Hermione, may I marry thee;
And to that place the sharp Hogsmead law
Cannot pursue us. If thou love me then,
Steal forth thy father's house tomorrow night;
And in the wood, a league without the town,
Where I did meet thee once with Astoria,
To do observance to a morn of May,
There will I stay for thee.
My good Ronald!
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 knit souls and prospers loves,
And by that fire which burned 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,
Tomorrow truly will I meet with thee.
Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Pansy.
God speed fair Pansy! Whither away?
Call you me fair? That fair again unsay.
Draco 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 favor so,
Yours would I catch, fair Hermione, 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, Draco 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 Draco’s heart.
I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.
O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill!
I give him curses, yet he gives me love.
O that my prayers could such affection move!
The more I hate, the more he follows me.
The more I love, the more he hates me.
His folly, Astoria, is no fault of mine.
None, but your beauty: would that fault were mine!
Take comfort: he no more shall see my face;
Ronald and myself will fly this place.
Before the time I did Ronald see,
Seemed Hogsmead as a paradise to me:
O, then, what graces in my love do dwell,
That he hath turned a heaven unto a hell!
Pansy, to you our minds we will unfold:
Tomorrow night, when Phoebe doth behold
Her silver visage in the watery glass,
Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass,
A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,
Through Athens' gates have we devised to steal.
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 Ronald 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 Draco!
Keep word, Ronald: we must starve our sight
From lovers' food till tomorrow deep midnight.
I will, my Hermione.
As you on him, Draco dote on you!
How happy some over other some can be!
Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
But what of that? Draco thinks not so;
He will not know what all but he do know:
And as he errs, doting on Hermione's eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities:
Things base and vile, folding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity:
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind:
Nor have Love's mind of any judgement taste;
Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste:
And therefore is Love said to be a child,
Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.
As waggish boys in game themselves forswear,
So the boy Love is perjured everywhere:
For ere Demetrius looked on Hermione's eyne,
He hailed down oaths that he was only mine;
And when this hail some heat from Hermione felt,
So he dissolved, and showers of oaths did melt.
I will go tell him of fair Hermione's flight:
Then to the wood will he tomorrow night
Pursue her; and for this intelligence
If I have thanks, it is a dear expense:
But herein mean I to enrich my pain,
To have his sight thither and back again.
Don't kill me, please. Just comment right below!