A Midsummer Night's Dream: Live from Shakespeare's Globe
A Midsummer Nights Dream
2013 · Comedy/Live Performance · UK
2h 47m

A film recording of a production of William Shakespeare's comedy at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre in London. Directed by the Globe's artistic director Dominic Dromgoole, it stars Michelle Terry as Titania/Hippolyta and Pearce Quigley as Bottom.
Songju
5.0
ð¬Titania, Hippolyta ìì¬ììŽ Bottom ë묎 ê·ìœë€ âFour 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.â âThe most lamentable comedy and the most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisbe.â âWhat, jealous Oberon? Fairies, skip hence. I have forsworn his bed and company. Then I must be thy lady. But I know When thou hast stolen away from Fairyland 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 buskined mistress and your warrior love, To Theseus must be wedded, and you come To give their bed joy and prosperity? These are the forgeries of jealousy; And never, since the middle summerâs spring, Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, By pavÚd fountain or by rushy brook, Or in the beachÚd margent of the sea, To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport. Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, As in revenge have sucked 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 stretched his yoke in vain, The plowman lost his sweat, and the green corn Hath rotted ere his youth attained a beard. The fold stands empty in the drownÚd field, And crows are fatted with the murrain flock. The nine-menâs-morris is filled 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 blessed. Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, Pale in her anger, washes all the air, That rheumatic diseases do abound. And thorough this distemperature we see The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose, And on old Hiemsâ 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 mazÚd 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.                                     Set your heart at rest: The Fairyland buys not the child of me. His mother was a votâress of my order, And in the spicÚd Indian air by night Full often hath she gossiped by my side And sat with me on Neptuneâs yellow sands, Marking thâ embarkÚd traders on the flood, When we have laughed 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.â âWhat angel wakes me from my flow'ry bed? I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again. Mine ear is much enamored of thy note, So is mine eye enthrallÚd to thy shape, And thy fair virtueâs force perforce doth move me On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee.â âLord, what fools these mortals be!â âMy Oberon, what visions have I seen! Methought I was enamored of an ass.â âIf we shadows have offended, Think but this and all is mended: That you have but slumbered 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 unearnÚd luck Now to âscape the serpentâs 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.â ê³ ë €ë ì묞곌 âDrama Performance (British, American, and Irish)â 2025-1, âShakespeareâ 2024-2
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