A Midsummer Night's Dream - Eva Toller

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"Excerpts from William Shakespeare´s "A Midsummer Night´s Dream"."

⌛ Period → Contemporary ◈ Genre → 12 ♬ Voicing → SSSAAATTTBBB ¶ Language → English

Parts 12

Instruments A cappella

CPDL # 59170

Editor Eva Toller

Posted 2020-06-10

License Personal

¶Lyrics / Text

Midsummer's Night is like a dream. Nothing seems real, flows like a stream. And a troupe of fairies coming out to play in moonlit meadow; Oberon, Titania? Titania, Titania. Oberon: Amadan-na Briona, that is his other name. Amadan-na Briona. Lo and behold, two elves are near, one is so bold: Puck he comes here. How now, spirit! Whither wander you? Thorough bush, thorough brier, Thorough flood, thorough fire. And I serve the fairy queen, To dew her orbs upon the green; Titania! Titania! Farewell, thou lob of spirits: I'll be gone; our queen and all her elves come here anon. The king doth keep his revels here to Amadan-na Briona! Take heed the queen come not within his sight. Amadan-na Briona! For Oberon is passing fell and wrath, Because that she as her attendant hath A lov'ly boy, stolen from an Indian king. Titania! Titania! And jealous Oberon would have the child knight of his train, to trace the forests wild. Amadan-na Briona! And now they never meet in grove, or green; Titania! By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen. Titania! Either I mistake your shape or else you are that shrew'd and knavish sprite call'd Robin Goodfellow: are you not he? Fairy, thou speak'st aright; I am that merry wanderer of the night. I jest to Oberon, and make him smile. But room, fairy! here comes Oberon. I'll met by moonlight, proud Titania! What! jealous Oberon. Fairies, skip hence; I have forsworn his bed and company. Tarry, rash wanton! am not I thy lord? Then I must be thy lady. Why art thou here, but that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, your buskin'd mistress and your warrior love to Theseus must be wedded. How canst thou thus for shame, Titania, glance at my credit with Hippolyta knowing I know thy love to Thesues? These are the forgeries of jealousy: and never, since the middle summer's spring met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, to dance our ringlets to the whistling wind. Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, as in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea contagio