A Midsummer Night's Dream

Retold by Robert Swindells
Illustrated by Tomislav Tomic

Cover

Title Page

List of characters

Act One

Act Two

Act Three

Act Four

Act Five

About the Author

Imprint

Theseus,
the Big Boss

Hippolyta,
engaged to Theseus

Philostrate,
Master of the Revels

Egeus,
father to Hermia

Hermia,
daughter of Egeus, in love with Lysander

Demetrius,
in love with Hermia

Lysander,
in love with Hermia

Helena,
in love with Demetrius

Quince,
drama student

Bottom,
drama student

Flute,
drama student

Starveling,
drama student

Snug,
drama student

Oberon,
king of the fairies

Titania,
queen of the fairies

Puck
or
Robin Goodfellow,
elf

Peaseblossom,
fairy

Cobweb,
fairy

Moth,
fairy

Mustardseed,
fairy

 

You could tell by his house that Theseus was not without a bob or two. Big, it was. Detached. Garden like a public park.

Some people reckoned Hippolyta was marrying him for his brass. Once, she'd been active in the women's movement. A braburning Amazon. Now, suddenly, here she was, engaged to the neighbourhood tycoon. It just didn't sound like her.

Nobody commented openly about any of this. Theseus was a dangerous guy; you didn't poke your nose into his business unless you wanted it chewed off. Plus Hippolyta had taken a few assertiveness courses in her time. Let
her
catch you rabbiting on and you'd end up sweeping your teeth off the floor. They were getting married, Theseus was happy about it and that was that.

In fact, Theseus could hardly wait. Now they stood side by side, in the big bay window, gazing down the garden. His arm was round her waist. He gave her a squeeze,
and sighed. ‘Not long now, sweetheart. Four days. Dragging a bit, though.'

Hippolyta laughed. ‘Don't be such a wimp, Theseus, you big girl's blouse.' Hippolyta was probably the only person in the world who could call Theseus a big girl's blouse without waking up in hospital. ‘It'll pass in no time. Know why?'

Theseus shook his head. ‘You tell me, sweetie pie.'

‘Well, for a start, we'll spend nearly half the time sleeping. You don't know time's passing when you're asleep.' She dug him in the ribs. ‘We'll dream. You can be in my dream if I can be in yours.'

Theseus squeezed her waist again, and turned to Philostrate, who'd been admiring a picture on the wall. Philostrate was the guy that Theseus had hired to arrange the wedding reception, organise the marquee, see to it that there'd be enough chairs, supervise the caterers, line up a photographer, find an
act of some sort to entertain the guests, and generally make sure the whole thing went off without a glitch.

‘Phil? Why don't you go check the post? See who else has RSVP'd. Let's hope we get more fun people than sentimental ones. Can't be doing with folk having a good cry all over the place when I haven't even tortured 'em.'

Philostrate scribbled a memo in his notebook and left. He was a professional. Everything would be fine.

Theseus turned fondly to Hippolyta. ‘Have I ever told you, Hippo, how much…'

‘Don't call me Hippo,' snarled Hippolyta. ‘Makes me sound obese. If you
must
abbreviate my name, what's wrong with Lyta?'

‘Lyta, then,' smiled Theseus. ‘Have I ever…'

Somebody knocked on the door. Theseus sighed and called, ‘Come in.'

The door opened to reveal Egeus, a manager in one of the tycoon's enterprises. He had his daughter with him, and two young men Theseus hardly knew. Egeus looked nervous.

‘I … er, hope we haven't interrupted something important, sir. I know how busy you must be at this time.'

Theseus shook his head. ‘Don't worry about it. What can we do for you, Egeus?'

The manager indicated the girl beside him. ‘It's my daughter, Hermia. I've arranged a marriage for her, to this young man.' He nodded toward one of the youths. ‘His name's Demetrius. He's a good lad. Steady. Make a very suitable husband. But she says no, won't have him at any price. I've tried every way I know to persuade her. She won't budge.'

Theseus gazed at the girl. ‘You must obey your father, child. It's the way I like things done, and you know what tends to happen to people who upset me, don't you?'

Hermia held the tycoon's gaze. ‘I do, sir, but I love this man.' She pointed. ‘His name's Lysander, and I'll marry only him.'

‘
Lysander
,' spat Egeus. ‘Worthless youth. All
he
has to offer is his pretty face and some flattering words. You can't feed a family on poncy hairdos and poems.' He appealed to Theseus. ‘If my daughter persists in her refusal to marry Demetrius, I fear I'll have no option but to do her in, or banish her from society. I hope you'll back me up, sir.'

Theseus looked at Hermia. ‘Do you understand your situation, girl? Defy your father, defy
me
, and you'll either die or be sent far away to live the life of a drudge. Such is the fate of a disobedient daughter.'

Hermia shook her head. ‘Lysander is as good as Demetrius, sir.'

Theseus nodded. ‘I dare say he is, but your father approves of Demetrius, not Lysander.'

‘Well then, let my
father
marry Demetrius and I'll marry Lysander.'

Theseus frowned. ‘You have until May Day to reflect, Hermia. That's four days. On that day, Hippolyta and I will marry, and if you haven't consented by then to marry Demetrius, you'll suffer the consequences.' He turned to Egeus. ‘Come with me, Egeus. You, too, Demetrius. I need to speak to you in private.'

The three men left, followed by Hippolyta.

As soon as they were alone, Lysander turned to his love. ‘Listen, Hermia,' he murmured, ‘we don't have long. I've got an auntie who lives miles away from here. We can go to her, she'll put us up, hide us. We can marry there, and there'll be nothing anybody can do about it.'

Hermia nodded. ‘What d'you want me to do?'

Lysander gripped her shoulders and looked into her eyes. ‘Remember the wood – Cottingley Wood – where I saw you once with Helena?'

‘Yes.'

‘Meet me there tomorrow night.
Will
you?'

The girl's eyes shone. ‘Try and stop me!'

‘Good.' Lysander glanced towards the door. ‘Sssh! Here comes Helena now.'

Hermia composed herself, and smiled as her friend walked in. ‘Hi, gorgeous, where you off to?'

‘Gorgeous,
me
?' Helena scoffed. ‘I wish I
was
gorgeous: drop-dead gorgeous, then Demetrius might love me instead of you.'

Hermia shrugged. ‘I don't know what he sees in me, Helena, I really don't. I try to shake him off, but the more I diss him, the harder he chases me. The more I hate him, the more he loves me. 'Tisn't
my
fault he's daft.' She smiled and whispered, ‘Never mind, listen. Demetrius won't be seeing me any more. We're off tomorrow night, Helena. Me and Lysander. We'll meet in Cottingley Wood, where you and I used to play. Then it's away, where nobody will ever find us.'

Helena looked at Lysander, who nodded.

Hermia touched her friend's arm. ‘Wish us luck, Helena. I hope things work out for you with Demetrius.'

When the two conspirators had left, Helena sat thinking.
If I warn Demetrius that Hermia's eloping, she thought, perhaps he'll be grateful to me. That's not much, but it's better than being ignored. And who knows: when he sees how determined Hermia is to dump him, maybe he'll turn to me for consolation. How cool will that be
?

With six guys in it, Quince's bedsit was packed. Quince sat on the bed and looked at the five lads sitting crosslegged on his floor. They were all on the dole, doing a drama course at college to pass the time.

‘All here, are we?'

‘You could call the register, like at college,' suggested Bottom sarcastically.

Everybody groaned. College is an OK
place to hang out when you're unemployed, but they do tend to treat you like kids.

Quince ignored the sarcasm. ‘I've got all your names in this notebook. I'll sing 'em out, and you can say “Present, sir”.'

Bottom shook his head. ‘Why don't you tell us about this gig you've landed us – this play we're supposed to do at Theseus's wedding reception? Like, what's it
called
, what's it
about
, stuff like that? We need to know.'