Midsummer's Night Dream Cartoon Project
Storyboard Text
- ACT I Scene 1
- "Helena: Call you me fair? That fair again unsay! Demetrius loves your fair. O happy fair! Your eyes are lode-stars, and your tongue's sweet air More tuneable than lark to shepard's ear, when wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear. Sickness is catching; O, were favour so, Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go. My ear should catch you voice, your eye my eye, My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody. Were all the world mine, Demetrius being bated, The rest I'll give to be to you translated. O teach me how you look and with what art. You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart!"
- ACT I SCENE I
- "Helena: The more I love, the more he hateth me."
- "Hermia: The more I hate, the more he follows me."
- ACT I SCENE I
- ACT 3 SCENE 2
- ACT 3 SCENE 2
- "Helena: You advance your cunnings more and more. When truth kills troth, 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 to scales, will even weigh ; an both as light as tales."
- "Helena: O spite! Oh hell! I see you all are bent to set agaisnt me for your merriment: If you were civil, and knew courtesy, You would not do me thus much injury..."
- ACT 3 Scene 2
- "Hermia: You speak not as you think; it cannot be."
- "Helena: How happy some o'er other some can be! Through Athens I am thought as fair as she. But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so; He will not know what all but he do know: And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes, So I, admiring of his qualities."
- "Helena: Lo, she is one of confederacy! Now I perceive they have conjoined, all three, To fashion this false sport in spite of me."
- "Lysander: Why do you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never comes in tears; Look when I vow I weep; and vows so born In their nativity all truth appears, How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith to prove them true?"
- "Demetrius: O, Helen, goddess nymph, perfect, divine, To what, my love, Shall I compare thine eyne? Crystal is muddy: O how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow, Fanned 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!"
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