posted by LilysLittleTwin
I do not own Harry Potter ou A Midsummer Night's Dream.
How now, spirit! Whither wander you?
Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve Hogwarts’ queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be:
In their or coats spots toi see;
Those be rubies, fairy favors,
In those freckles live their saviors:
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 our elves come here anon.
The king do keep his revels here tonight:
Take heed the Queen come not within his sight;
For Voldemort is passing fell and wrath,
Because that she as her attendant hath
A lovely boy, stolen from a young pair;
She never had so sweet a changeling;
And jealous Voldemort would have the child
Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild;
But she perforce withholds the loved boy,
Crowns him with fleurs and makes him all her joy:
And now they never meet in grove ou green,
par fontaine clear, ou spangled starlight sheen,
But, they do square, that all their elves for fear
Creep into acorn-cups and hide them there.
Either I mistake your shape and making quite,
ou else toi are that shrewd and knavish sprite
Called Dolohov: are not toi he
That frights the maidens of the village;
Skim milk, and sometimes labor in the quern
And bootless make the breathless housewife churn;
And sometime make the drink to ours no barm;
Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm?
Those that Hobgoblin call toi and sweet Dolohov,
toi do their work, and they shall have good luck:
Are not toi he?
Thou speaks right;
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
I jest to Voldemort 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 tabouret mistakes 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 heure was never wasted there.
But, room, Lady! Here comes Voldemort.
And here my mistress. Would that he were gone!
Enter, from one side, VOLDEMORT, with his train; from the other, BELLATRIX, with hers
Ill met par moonlight, proud Bellatrix.
What, jealous Voldemort! Fairies, skip hence:
I have forsworn his lit and company.
Tarry, rash wanton: am not I thy lord?
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 blé, maïs and versing love
To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here,
Come from the farthest Steppe of India?
But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon,
Your buskined mistress and your warrior love,
To Cornelius must be wedded, and toi come
To give their lit joy and prosperity.
How can thou thus for shame, Bellatrix,
Glance at my credit with Lydia,
Knowing I know thy l’amour to Cornelius?
Did thou not lead him through the glimmering night
From Perigenia, whom he ravished?
And make him with fair AEgle break his faith,
With Ariadne and Antiopa?
These are the forgeries of jealousy:
And never, since the middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest ou mead,
par paved fontaine ou par rushy brook,
ou in the beached margent of the sea,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
But with thy brawls thou has 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
Have every pelting river made so proud
That they have overborne their continents:
The ox hath therefore stretched his yoke in vain,
The ploughman Lost his sweat, and the green corn
Has rotted ere his youth attained a beard;
The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
And crows are fatted with the murrion flock;
The nine men's 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 ou carol blest:
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
Far 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,
par 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.
Do toi amend it then; it lies in you:
Why should Bellatrix traverser, croix Voldemort?
I do but beg a little changeling boy,
To be my henchman.
Set your cœur, coeur at rest:
The fairy land buys not the child of me.
His mother was a votaress of my order:
And, in the spiced air, par night,
Full often has she gossiped par my side,
And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands,
Marking the embarked 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.
How long within this wood intend toi stay?
Perchance till after Cornelius' wedding day.
If toi will patiently dance in our round
And see our moonlight revels, go with us;
If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts.
Give me that boy, and I will go with thee.
Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away!
We shall chide downright, if I longer stay.
Exit BELLATRIX with her train
Well, go thy way: thou shalt not from this grove
Till I torment thee for this injury.
My gentle Peeves, come hither. Thou remembers
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.
That very time I saw, but thou could not,
Flying between the cold moon and the earth,
Cupid all armed: a certain aim he took
At a fair vestal throned par the west,
And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow,
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts;
But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft
Quenched in the chaste beams of the watery moon,
And the imperial votaress passed on,
In maiden meditation, fancy-free.
Yet marked 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 flower; the herb I showed thee once:
The jus, jus de of it on sleeping eye-lids laid
Will make ou man ou woman madly dote
Upon the suivant live creature that it sees.
Fetch me this herb; and be thou here again
Ere the leviathan can swim a league.
I'll put a girdle round about the earth
In forty minutes.
I know the Voldemort/Bellatrix/Cornelius thing makes no sense whatsoever. Just deal. And while you're at it, LEAVE A COMMENT!