The Show Must Go On

Act IV scene i

(RON, DEAN, and GINNY are still ying on the ground, 'asleep', but HERMIONE is up and about, Doing Mad Costumer things offstage)

DRACO: No.

HERMIONE: You're one of the last people without a costume! You have to wear it!

DRACO: No.

HERMIONE: I'm the costumer! If I say this is your costume, this is your costume!

DRACO: (stubborn) Absolutely not.

NEVILLE: Please don't make her mad...

HARRY: Too late for that, Nev. (swish of costume being stolen. HARRY whistles) You're complaining about this?

DRACO: In words of one syllable... yes!

HARRY: (looking over costume, starry-eyed) Why?

HERMIONE: So you're not going to give in gracefully, Malfoy?

DRACO: Do I ever?

HERMIONE: You're going to be a complete jerk and toss by the wayside all of my very hard work?

DRACO: Yeah. So?

HERMIONE: (regretfully) You asked for it.

(Sounds of a scuffle)

HERMIONE: (satisfied) You look very pretty.

SEAMUS: You were complaining about that? But it's-

DRACO: Shut. Up. Now. Finnegan.

(Enter PANSY, dragging GOYLE (still with the face of Trelawney) behind her. SEAMUS, NEVILLE, and COLIN follow them, loking bored, with teeny purple wings glued to the back of their robes. HERMIONE (assisted by HARRY) shove DRACO onstage, where he promptly ducks behind a clump of bunny-infested paper trees. HERMIONE stomps onstage, then flops into 'sleeping' position, using RON as a pillow)

PANSY: So, tell me... do you have a girlfriend?

GOYLE: (panicky, focusing on reading the script) Where's Peaseblossom?

SEAMUS: Ready.

GOYLE: Scratch my head Peaseblossom.

SEAMUS: I would rather roast in hell for a thousand years with the devil and all his hellish legions of doom tickling me with red hot pitchforks.

HARRY: Is that a 'no', Seamus?

DRACO: If it is, it's a first.

GOYLE: Where's... Mountsyur Cobweb?

NEVILLE: R-r-r-r-ready.

SEAMUS: (muttering) You could get a job as one of those Muggle race cars, Nev.

(NEVILLE smacks him upside the head)

SEAMUS: Ow! What was that for?

LOCKHART: Don't ask, Mr. Finnegan. You may get an answer.

GOYLE: Mounts...yur Cobweb, good... mountsyur, get you your weepons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a this-tulle; and, good... mountsyur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action... mountsyur; and, good... mountsyur, have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loath to have you overflown with a honey-bag, sig-neeor. Where's Mountsyur Mustardseed?

COLIN: Huh?! Do I have a line?! Is it my turn?!

GOYLE: Give me your neaf, Mountsyur Mustardseed. Pray you, l have your cour-tessy, good mountsyur.

COLIN: What? What? (leafs through script) Where are we?

GOYLE: Nothing, good mountsyur, but to help Ca-va-leery Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber's, montsyur; for methinks I am marvel-us hairy about the face; and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.

HARRY: This is so sad. Goyle's the only one following the script.

PANSY: (clinging to GOYLE's arm like a lamprey) Tell me about yourself...

GOYLE: (trying to ignore PANSY) I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let's have the tongs and the bones.

PANSY: That's sooooo sweet. Are you hungry?

GOYLE: Truly, a peck of pro-vender: I could munch your good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow. looks over at 'sleeping' HERMIONE) 'Mione? Why'm I the only one usin' this script thingy?

PANSY: (about as subtle as a rhinoceros horn up the backside) I think it's almost lunchtime....

GOYLE: I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me: I have an ex-po-si-tion of sleep come upon me.

PANSY: (giggles 'girlishly', then glares at the bit players) Get lost, you lot. He's mine.

(SEAMUS, NEVILLE, and COLIN beat a hasty (and relieved) retreat)

PANSY: Now that you mention it, I'm sleepy too. Hold still.

(She falls asleep, using GOYLE as a pillow. He sits still, unsure what to do next)

(Enter HARRY, still wearing the green wings and with fresh golden glitter in hs hair. DRACO advances reluctantly to center stage. Mad Costumer HERMIONE has outdone herself. DRACO has large white fairy wings lined with silver, white robes instead of black, and the contents of a jar of silver glitter dumped in his hair. The entire effect is of white; he would be blinding in direct sunlight)

SEAMUS: Ooh... pretty... hey, Nev, think I could get Dean into that outfit?

NEVILLE: I don't think the effect would be the same unless you'd dumped Dean in bleach first.

SEAMUS: Oh, yeah. Forgot about that....

DRACO: Welcome, good Robin.
See'st thou this sweet sight?

SEAMUS: Unless he's blind.

DRACO: Her dotage now I do begin to pity:
For, meeting her of late behind the wood,
Seeking sweet favours from this hateful fool,
I did upbraid her and fall out with her;
For she his hairy temples then had rounded
With a coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers;
And that same dew, which sometime on the buds
Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls,
Stood now within the pretty flowerets' eyes
Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail.
When I had at my pleasure taunted her.

SEAMUS: Sounds like something you'd do, all right.

DRACO: And she in mild terms begg'd my patience,
I then did ask of her her changeling child;
Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent
To bear him to my bower in Fairyland.
And now I have the boy, I will undo
This hateful imperfection of her eyes:

SEAMUS: Awww, do you have to? They're such a cute couple.

NEVILLE: In a scary-beyond-all-reason sort of way.

DRACO: And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp
From off the head of this Athenian swain;
That, he awaking when the other do,
May all to Athens back again repair
And think no more of this night's accidents
But as the fierce vexation of a dream.

COLIN: I hate that sort of dream, where you're all sure it's real and then you wake up... what?

SEAMUS: I was thinking the same thing, but I bet I have better dreams than you do.

COLIN: There was a puppy in my last one.

SEAMUS: Now I'm sure I have better dreams.

DRACO: But first I will release the fairy queen.
Be as thou wast wont to be;
See as thou wast wont to see:
Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower
Hath such force and blessed power.
Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen.

SEAMUS: Sweet queen? Ewwww!

PANSY: (muzzily) That's the last time I eat fish for dinner. Gives me nightmares like you would not believe....

DRACO: There lies your love.

PANSY: (looks at GOYLE. Blinks) I don't love him.

DRACO: Silence awhile. Robin, take off this head.
Titania, music call; and strike more dead
Than common sleep of all these five the sense.

PANSY: I will not shut up! Why do you always tell me to shut up?

HARRY: (waves his wand over GOYLE, turning his face back to normal) Now, when thou wakest, with thine own fool's eyes peep.

DRACO: Sound, music! Come, my queen, take hands with me,
And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.
Now thou and I are new in amity,
And will to-morrow midnight solemnly
Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly,
And bless it to all fair prosperity:
There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.

HARRY: Fairy king, attend, and mark:
I do hear the morning lark.

DRACO: Then, my queen, in silence sad,
Trip we after the night's shade:
We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wandering moon.

PANSY: Like hell I'll follow you two around. Go play your boy games someplace else.

(PANSY stomps off in a huff. DRACO and HARRY look at each other, then shrug and exit the stage on the other side)

DEAN: (wincing from the door slamming) Burned a bridge there, I think.

DRACO: And?

(Enter SEAMUS and NEVILLE, wearing slapdash 'togas' made out of bedsheets. COLIN follows after them almost docilely, gagged and wearing a pink flowery apron.)

SEAMUS: (grandly) Go, one of you, find out the forester;
For now our observation is perform'd;
And since we have the vaward of the day,
My love shall hear the music of my hounds.
Uncouple in the western valley; let them go:
Dispatch, I say, and find the forester.

(Nobody moves)

SEAMUS: We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top,
And mark the musical confusion
Of hounds and echo in conjunction.

COLIN: NGhgh?! ytkntmeeeh?

SNAPE: (wearily) I'm not going to ask anymore.

LOCKHART: Are you tired? Poor baby.

SEAMUS: My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung
With ears that sweep away the morning dew;
Crook-knee'd, and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls;
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells,
Each under each. A cry more tuneable
Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn,
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly:
Judge when you hear. But, soft! what nymphs are these?

CRABBE: Din't draw nymphs. I drew bunnies! Fluffy, nice bunnies...

NEVILLE: (slapping SEAMUS earlier without punishment has revived his courage) My lord, this is my daughter here asleep;
And this, Lysander; this Demetrius is;
This Helena, old Nedar's Helena:
I wonder of their being here together.

SEAMUS: No doubt they rose up early to observe
The rite of May, and hearing our intent,
Came here in grace of our solemnity.
But speak, Egeus; is not this the day
That Hermia should give answer of her choice?

HARRY: Er... no? Yes? Maybe?

DRACO: Whatever.

NEVILLE: It is, my lord.

SEAMUS: (gestures grandly) Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns.

(Silence. SEAMUS drops his hands to his side and shrugs. DEAN, RON, HERMIONE, and GINNY 'wake up' anyway)

SEAMUS: Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past:
Begin these wood-birds but to couple now?

DRACO: [to HARRY] That has to be his favorite line.

HARRY: What? Why?

(DRACO leans over and whispers something in HARRY's ear. HARRY blushes)

HARRY: Yeah... probably it is, then....

DEAN: Pardon, my lord.

HARRY: Sorry, wrong number.

SEAMUS: I pray you all, stand up.
I know you two are rival enemies:
How comes this gentle concord in the world,
That hatred is so far from jealousy,
To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity?

DEAN: My lord, I shall reply amazedly,
Half sleep, half waking: but as yet, I swear,
I cannot truly say how I came here;
But, as I think,--for truly would I speak,
And now do I bethink me, so it is,--
I came with Hermia hither: our intent
Was to be gone from Athens, where we might,
Without the peril of the Athenian law-

DRACO: No, you're supposed to lie about it! Honestly, how do you expect to get out of being executed now, you idiot?

HARRY: Honesty is the best policy.

DRACO: That's what liars want you to think.

NEVILLE: Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough:
I beg the law, the law, upon his head.

HARRY: You can use my quill if you want.

NEVILLE: They would have stolen away; they would, Demetrius,
Thereby to have defeated you and me,
You of your wife and me of my consent,
Of my consent that she should be your wife.

GOYLE: (watching them, trying to figure out what's going on) Can't both marry her, y'know.

DRACO: Yes, Greg, he knows.

RON: My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth,
Of this their purpose hither to this wood;
And I in fury hither follow'd them,
Fair Helena in fancy following me.
But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,--
But by some power it is,--my love to Hermia,
Melted as the snow, seems to me now
As the remembrance of an idle gaud
Which in my childhood I did dote upon;
And all the faith, the virtue of my heart,
The object and the pleasure of mine eye,
Is only Helena.

COLIN: Mrgh?

RON: To her, my lord,
Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia:
But, like in sickness, did I loathe this food;
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
Now I do wish it, love it, long for it,
And will for evermore be true to it.

HARRY and DRACO: (HARRY is starry-eyed, DRACO is sarcastic) Awwwwww....

SEAMUS: Fair lovers, you are fortunately met:
Of this discourse we more will hear anon.
Egeus, I will overbear your will;
For in the temple by and by with us
These couples shall eternally be knit:

GOYLE: Knit?

HARRY: Yeah. You know, afghans and mittens and scarves and things.

GOYLE: Oh.

SEAMUS: And, for the morning now is something worn,
Our purposed hunting shall be set aside.
Away with us to Athens; three and three,
We'll hold a feast in great solemnity.
Come, Hippolyta.

DRACO: Come on, Hippolyta, there's a good girl. Sit. Sit? Play dead!

COLIN: GRFH!

(Exit SEAMUS, COLIN, and NEVILLE)

RON: These things seem small and undistinguishable.

HARRY and DRACO: What things?

GINNY: (overly mysterious) Methinks I see these things with parted eye,
When every thing seems double.

SEAMUS: Four eyes!

HERMIONE: So methinks:
And I have found Demetrius like a jewel,
Mine own, and not mine own.

SEAMUS: Whose is he, then? Hermione, if you don't want him, I'll....

HARRY: You'll what?

SEAMUS: Umm... nothing?

HARRY: Very good.

HERMIONE: (under her breath) Thanks, Harry.

RON: Are you sure
That we are awake? It seems to me
That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think
The duke was here, and bid us follow him?

SEAMUS: Follow him with whips. That was what he said.

GINNY: Yea; and my father.

HERMIONE: And Hippolyta.

HARRY: (singing) And a partri-idge in a pear tree!

DRACO: Don't make me hurt you.

DEAN: And he did bid us follow to the temple.

SEAMUS: With whips! The whips were an essential part! And handcuffs, too, of course, but you can borrow Neville's.

NEVILLE: No, they can't. I need them.

RON: Why, then, we are awake: let's follow him
And by the way let us recount our dreams.

SEAMUS: Well, first there was chocolate sauce and lots of rope, and then there were... oh, you weren't talking to me, were you?

(Exit everyone except GOYLE, who gets up and goes to center stage)

GOYLE: When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer: my next is, 'Most fair Pyramus.' Heigh-ho! Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's my life, stolen hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was--there is no man can tell what. Methought I was,--and methought I had,--but man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the duke: peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death.

(Brief silence offstage)

HARRY: Whoa.

DRACO: Not bad.

HERMIONE: Go, Greg!

RON: I can't believe you're cheering him on... speaking of cheering people on, anyone else notice silence from out front?

(HERMIONE peeks around to the front of the stage)

HERMIONE: Ummm... they're gone.

(Silence for a beat)

HARRY: Gone? Gone where? Anyone remember the last thing one of them said?

(Everyone thinks for a moment, then SEAMUS shakes his head)

SEAMUS: I really don't need that mental picture....

HERMIONE: What mental picture? ...Oh. Oh my.