Who is taller hermia or helena

Why do the fairies sing charms for Titania? She wants them to send her to sleep soundly. The charms are also a protective enchantment against most harms. Puck turns Bottom into a donkey because he likes playing pranks. Giving Bottom the head of an ass is entirely appropriate when one considers his name. Why is Bottom worried about the ladies in the audience? Bottom thinks that the women will be scared by the deaths of Pyramus and Thisbe and of the lion.

Bottom wants to know if the moon will be shining on he night of the play, as Pyramus and Thisbe meet by moonlight. Oberon claims that the little boy has been stolen from a king of India which makes the Changeling Boy a prince and that Titania has taken him for her own.

According to the Queen of the Fairies, her good friend died in childbirth and Titania has agreed to raise the boy out of love for his mother. When Bottom, who has no idea about his transformation, despite the fact that his appearance has frightened ways his friends, awakes Titania, she says: Oberon realizes that only by having Titania fall in love with someone else will he divert her enough so that he can talk her into giving up the boy..

Based on the Puck of English mythology, Puck is a mischievous fairy, sprite, or jester. Four Athenians run away to the forest only to have Puck the fairy make both of the boys fall in love with the same girl. 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. 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 refused. Should of another therefore be abused! 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 tie 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! Ay me, for pity! Lysander, look how I do quake with fear: Methought a serpent eat my heart away, And you sat smiling at his cruel pray. What, out of hearing? Alack, where are you speak, an if you hear; Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear.

Are we all met? 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. Peter Quince,— Quince. What sayest thou, bully 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? By'r lakin, a parlous fear. I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done. 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 killed 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.

Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be written in eight and six. No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion? I fear it, I promise you. Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves: to bring in—God shield us!

Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion. 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 defect,—'Ladies,'—or 'Fair-ladies—I would wish You,'—or 'I would request you,'—or 'I would entreat you,—not to fear, not to tremble: my life for yours.

If you think I come hither as a 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. 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.

Doth the moon shine that night we play our play? A calendar, a calendar! Yes, it doth shine that night. 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. Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthorn, 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.

You can never bring in a wall. What say you, 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. 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. What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here, So near the cradle of the fairy queen?

I'll be an auditor; An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause. Speak, Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth. Thisby, the flowers of odious savours sweet,— Quince. Odours, odours. But hark, a voice! A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here. Must I speak now? Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again. 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 yet would never tire, I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb.

O,—As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire. If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine. O monstrous! O strange! Pray, masters! 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.

Why do they run away? O Bottom, thou art changed! What do you see? Bless thee, 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 I will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid.

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

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. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.

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

And I. Where shall we go? 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.

Hail, mortal! I cry your worship's mercy, heartily: I beseech your worship's name. 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? 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? Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well: that same cowardly, giant-like ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house: I promise you your kindred had made my eyes water ere now.

I desire your more acquaintance, good Master Mustardseed. Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower. The moon methinks looks with a watery eye; And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, Lamenting some enforced chastity.

I wonder if Titania be awaked; Then, what it was that next came in her eye, Which she must dote on in extremity. How now, mad spirit! What night-rule now about this haunted grove? My mistress with a monster is in love. Near to her close and consecrated bower, While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, That work for bread upon Athenian stalls, Were met together to rehearse a play Intended for great Theseus' nuptial-day.

The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort, Who Pyramus presented, in their sport Forsook his scene and enter'd in a brake When I did him at this advantage take, An ass's nole I fixed on his head: Anon his Thisbe must be answered, And forth my mimic comes.

When they him spy, As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, Rising and cawing at the gun's report, Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky, So, at his sight, away his fellows fly; And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls; He murder cries and help from Athens calls. Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong, Made senseless things begin to do them wrong; For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch; Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all things catch.

I led them on in this distracted fear, And left sweet Pyramus translated there: When in that moment, so it came to pass, Titania waked and straightway loved an ass. This falls out better than I could devise. But hast thou yet latch'd the Athenian's eyes With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do? I took him sleeping,—that is finish'd too,— And the Athenian woman by his side: That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed.

Stand close: this is the same Athenian. This is the woman, but not this the man. O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. Now I but chide; but I should use thee worse, For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse, If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, And kill me too.

The sun was not so true unto the day As he to me: would he have stolen away From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon This whole earth may be bored and that the moon May through the centre creep and so displease Her brother's noontide with Antipodes. It cannot be but thou hast murder'd him; So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim. So should the murder'd look, and so should I, Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty: Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere.

What's this to my Lysander? I had rather give his carcass to my hounds. Out, dog! Hast thou slain him, then? Henceforth be never number'd among men! Durst thou have look'd upon him being awake, And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave touch! Could not a worm, an adder, do so much?

An adder did it; for with doubler tongue Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung. You spend your passion on a misprised mood: I am not guilty of Lysander's blood; Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell. I pray thee, tell me then that he is well. An if I could, what should I get therefore? A privilege never to see me more. And from thy hated presence part I so: See me no more, whether he be dead or no. There is no following her in this fierce vein: Here therefore for a while I will remain.

So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe: Which now in some slight measure it will pay, If for his tender here I make some stay. What hast thou done? Then fate o'er-rules, that, one man holding troth, A million fail, confounding oath on oath. About the wood go swifter than the wind, And Helena of Athens look thou find: All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear: By some illusion see thou bring her here: I'll charm his eyes against she do appear.

I go, I go; look how I go, Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. Flower of this purple dye, Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye. When thou wakest, if she be by, Beg of her for remedy. Captain of our fairy band, Helena is here at hand; And the youth, mistook by me, Pleading for a lover's fee. Lord, what fools these mortals be! Stand aside: the noise they make Will cause Demetrius to awake.

Then will two at once woo one; That must needs be sport alone; And those things do best please me That befal preposterously. Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?

You do advance your cunning more and more. When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray! These vows are Hermia's: will you give her o'er? Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh: Your vows to her and me, put in two scales, Will even weigh, and both as light as tales. I had no judgment when to her I swore.

Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you. Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow, Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow When thou hold'st up thy hand: O, let me kiss This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!

I see you all are bent To set against me for your merriment: If you we re civil and knew courtesy, You would not do me thus much injury. Can you not hate me, as I know you do, But you must join in souls to mock me too? If you were men, as men you are in show, You would not use a gentle lady so; To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts, When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.

You both are rivals, and love Hermia; And now both rivals, to mock Helena: A trim exploit, a manly enterprise, To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes With your derision!

You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so; For you love Hermia; this you know I know: And here, with all good will, with all my heart, In Hermia's love I yield you up my part; And yours of Helena to me bequeath, Whom I do love and will do till my death. Never did mockers waste more idle breath. Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none: If e'er I loved her, all that love is gone. My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn'd, And now to Helen is it home return'd, There to remain.

Helen, it is not so. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know, Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear. Look, where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, The ear more quick of apprehension makes; Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, It pays the hearing double recompense.

Why should he stay, whom love doth press to go? What love could press Lysander from my side? Lysander's love, that would not let him bide, Fair Helena, who more engilds the night Than all you fiery oes and eyes of light.

Why seek'st thou me? You speak not as you think: it cannot be. Lo, she is one of this confederacy! Now I perceive they have conjoin'd all three To fashion this false sport, in spite of me. Injurious Hermia! Is all the counsel that we two have shared, The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent, When we have chid the hasty-footed time For parting us,—O, is it all forgot? All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our needles created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key, As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds, Had been incorporate.

So we grow together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, But yet an union in partition; Two lovely berries moulded on one stem; So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart; Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, Due but to one and crowned with one crest. And will you rent our ancient love asunder, To join with men in scorning your poor friend?

It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly: Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, Though I alone do feel the injury. I am amazed at your passionate words. Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn, To follow me and praise my eyes and face? And made your other love, Demetrius, Who even but now did spurn me with his foot, To call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare, Precious, celestial?

Wherefore speaks he this To her he hates? What thought I be not so in grace as you, So hung upon with love, so fortunate, But miserable most, to love unloved? This you should pity rather than despise. I understand not what you mean by this. Ay, do, persever, counterfeit sad looks, Make mouths upon me when I turn my back; Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up: This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled. But fare ye well: 'tis partly my own fault; Which death or absence soon shall remedy.

Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse: My love, my life my soul, fair Helena! O excellent! Sweet, do not scorn her so. If she cannot entreat, I can compel. Thou canst compel no more than she entreat: Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers.

Helen, I love thee; by my life, I do: I swear by that which I will lose for thee, To prove him false that says I love thee not. I say I love thee more than he can do.

If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too. Quick, come! Lysander, whereto tends all this? Away, you Ethiope! No, no; he'll Seem to break loose; take on as you would follow, But yet come not: you are a tame man, go! Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! Why are you grown so rude?

After being found sleeping in the woods by the duke and duchess, Demetrius confesses his love for Helena while denouncing his earlier infatuation with Hermia.

Skip to content Popular. April 19, Joe Ford. Table of Contents. We use cookies to ensure that we give you the best experience on our website. The more detective work you do, the better prepared you will be for your performance! Hermia says this line to the Duke, after her father Egeus has declared that she must marry Demetrius, his choice for her husband, rather than Lysander, the one she loves.

Of course, if she looked with his eyes, then she would just do whatever he said to do, and there would be no conflict. Should Hermia do that? Here are some clues from the play:. How this happened, and why, is unclear. And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt So he dissolved, and showers of oaths did melt.

You and the performer playing Helena in your scene may have to figure that one out!