A Midsummer Night's Dream

Since King Sombra squeezed the enchanted droplets from the purple flower, nothing else seemed to disturb her from her slumber.  All the night her sanctuary was quiet, her dreams uninterrupted - until a familiar group of mechanics and actors inadventurely entered her fortress.  Hoity Toity and his acting troup; Caramel, Carrot Cake, Macintosh, Braeburn, and Soarin - assembled themselves near the fairy queen’s throne, completely unaware of her existence.

“Are we all met?” Caramel asked.

“Pat, pat,” Hoity answered, “and here’s a marvelous convenient place for our rehearsal,” he giddily said as he took note of his surroundings.  “This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthrone-brake our tiring-house, and we will do it in action as we do it before the duke.”

“Hoity Toity,” Caramel suddenly called.

“What sayest thou, bully Caramel?”

“There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisbe that will never please,” Caramel said.  “First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself, which the mares cannot abide.  How answer you that?”

“By’r lakin, a parlous fear,” Braeburn agreed.

“I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done,” Macintosh suggested.

“Not a whit!” Caramel said, “I have a device to make all well.  Write me a prologue, and let the prologue seem to say we will do no harm with our swords, and the Pyramus is not killed indeed.  And for the more better assurance, tell them that I, Pyramus, am not Pyramus, but Caramel the weaver.  This will put them out of fear.”

“We will have such a prologue,” Hoity agreed, “and it shall be written in eight and six.”

“No, make it two more,” Caramel said, “Let it be written in eight and eight.”

“Will not the mares be afraid of the lion?” Braeburn asked.

“I fear it, I promise you,” Macintosh added.

“Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves to bring in - Faust shield us!  A lion among mares is a most dreadful thing!” Caramel warned, “For there is not a more fearful wildfowl than your lion living.  And we ought to look to’t.”

“Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion,” Braeburn suggested.

“Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion’s neck,” Caramel added.  “And he himself must speak through, saying thus - ‘Fair ladies, I would entreat to you - not to fear, not to tremble - my life for yours.  If you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life.  I am no such thing - I am a pony, as all ponies are.”

“It shall be so,” Hoity said, “But there are two hard things: that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber.  For you know, Pyramus and Thisbe meet by moonlight.”

“Doth the moon shine that night we do our play?” Braeburn asked.

“A calendar!  A calendar!” a panicked Caramel shouted, “Look in a almanac!  Find out moonshine, find out moonshine!”

Hoity Toity takes out a little calendar he kept in his pocket.  His eyes scanned it for the date of the play.  His stopped once his eyes brightened at the selected date.  “Yes, it doth shine that night,” he said assuredly.  The other actors gave out a collective sigh of relief.

“Why then, may you leave a casement of the great chamber window where we play open,” Caramel suggested, “and the moon may shine in at the casement.”

“Ay, or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lantern, and say he comes to present the pony of Moonshine,” Hoity added, “Then, there is another thing: we must have a wall in the great chamber.  For Pyramus and Thisbe, says the story, meet did talk through the chink of a wall.”

“You can never bring a wall,” Braeburn said, “what say you, Caramel?”

“Some pony or other must present the wall,” Caramel answered, “and let him have some plaster, or some loam, or some roughcast about him to signify the wall.  And let him hold his hooves thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisbe whisper.”

“If that may be then all is well,” Hoity agreed, “Come, sit down, every mother’s son, and rehearse your parts.  Pyramus, you begin.  When you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake - and so everypony according to his cue,” he said.

As the actors began to recite their lines for the wedding performance, the draconequus appeared from behind a tree.  Without any eye spotting him, Discord spied on the stallions with a mischievous look on his face.  “What hempen homespuns have we swaggered here?” he asked himself silently, “So near the cradle of the fairy queen?  What, a play toward?  I’ll be an auditor.  An actor too, if I see cause.”

“Speak Pyramus!  Thisbe, stand forth!” Hoity commanded.

Caramel cleared his throat, and with a loud voice he spoke from his script:  “Thisbe, the flowers of odious savors sweet--”

“Odors, odors,” Hoity finished.

“--Odors as sweet,” Caramel continued, “So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisbe dear.  And by and by I will thee appear.  But hark! a voice!” he said dramatically, “Stay thou but here awhile.”  When Caramel finished he did as he was told and hid behind the bush, leaving Carrot Cake on the stage.

“A stranger Pyramus than e’er played here,” a bemused Discord said.

“Must I speak now?” Carrot Cake asked.

“Ay, marry, you must,” Hoity answered, “For you must understand he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again.”

Carrot Cake took a deep breath and with a high-pitched voice he spoke from the script:  “Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, of color like the red rose on triumphant brier, most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely duke.  As true as truest horse that yet would never tire.  I’ll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny’s tomb.”

“Ninus’ tomb,” Hoity said as he facehoof himself, “Why, you must not speak that yet.  That you answer to Pyramus!  You speak all your part once, cues and all - Pyramus, enter.  Your cue is past,” he said with a disgruntled sigh, “it is never tire.”

“Oh - “ Carrot Cake cleared his throat and corrected himself, “As true as truest horse that yet would never tire.”

Just as Caramel returned to the scene, something strange happened to him.  His body was the same as always, but Hoity and the actors noticed that his head and face had taken a dramatic transformation.

“If I were fair, Thisbe, I were only thine,” Caramel spoke as Pyramus… through a head of a turkey.

“Oh mostrous!  Oh strange!  We are haunted,” Hoity frantically shouted, “Pray masters!  Fly masters!  Help!”  Hoity and the mechanics desperately ran for their very lives and fled the stage before other unwanted supernatural occurrences could get to them.  Meanwhile, a certain draconequus who bore witness to this event - and was the one responsible - bursted with laughter, unable to control his breathing or his diaphragm.

“I’ll follow you.  I’ll lead you about a round - through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier,” Discord said whilst trying to calm himself down.  “Sometime a horse I’ll be, sometimes a hound.  A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire.  And neigh, bark, grunt, roar, and burn - like horse, hound, hog, bear, and fire at every turn.”  With a snap of his fingers he disappeared into the night, causing more mischief and panic while he can.

Caramel, not realizing his head is that of a turkey, found himself abandoned on stage.  He grew frustrated as the minutes passed on.  “I see their knavery - this is to make a fool of me, to fright me if they could,” he said to himself, “But I will not stir from this place!  Do what they can!  I will walk up and down here and I will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid!”  He cleared his throat and began to sing a soft melody loudly to himself.

The ouzel cock, so black of hue

With orange-tawny bill,

The throstle with his note so true,

The wren with little quill

His voice entered the ears of the sleeping fairy queen, and her sparkling eyes slowly opened.  As soon as Luna had awoken from her slumber, she was struck by Cupid’s love arrows and was instantly entranced by the stallion’s voice.  “What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?” she asked.

The finch, the sparrow, and the lark,

The plainsong cuckoo gray,

Whose note full many a pony doth mark

And dares not answer nay…

For indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird?

Who would give a bird the lie,

Though he cry cuckoo never so?

“I pray thee, gental mortal, sing again,” Luna admiringly said as she landed in front of a surprised Caramel.  “Mine ear is much enamored of thy note.  So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape,” she said again whilst her eyes scanned the stallion body with the turkey head attached.  “And thy fair virtue’s force perforce doth move me on the first view to say, to swear… I love thee.”

“Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that,” a baffled Caramel said, “and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays.  The more the pity that some honest neighbors will not make them friends.  Nay, I can gleek upon occasion,” he joked.

“Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful,” Luna affectionately commented.

“Not so, neither,” he said, “but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn.”

“Out of this wood do not desire to go!” Luna shouted using the Royal Canterlot Voice.  “Thou shalt remain here whether thou wilt or no!  I am a spirit of no common rate!  The summer still doth tend upon my state!  And I do love thee!  Therefore go with me!  I’ll give thee fairies to attend on thee!  And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep, and sing while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep!  And I will purge thy mortal grossness so that thou shalt like an airy spirit go!”

The shivering stallion with a turkey head quickly nodded in agreement.  Luna’s death-glare suddenly returned to the soft, loving eyes of a mare who had fallen in love.  She tapped her hoof three times on the ground and called her fairy servants.  “Pipsqueak, Featherweight, Truffle Shuffle, Spike…”  The four fairies levitated from different directions and saluted to their ruler.

“Where shall we go?” they all asked.

“Be kind and courteous to this gentlecolt,” Luna commanded.  She gestured toward Caramel, whom the four servants furrowed their brows at.  “Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes.  Feed him with apricoks and dewberries, with purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries.  The honey bags steal from the humble-bees, and for night tapers crop their waxen thighs and light them at the fiery glowworms' eyes to have my love to bed and to arise.  And pluck the wings from painted butterflies to fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.  Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.”

“Hail!” the four said at once.

“I cry your worships’ mercy, heartily,” Caramel began, “I beseech your worship’s name.”

“Pipsqueak,” the first fairy said.

“I shall desire you of more acquaintance, Master Pipsqueak.  If I cut my hoof, I shall make bold with you.  Your name, honest gentlecolt?”

“Featherweight,” the second fairy said.

“I pray you, commend me to your father and mother.  Good Master Featherweight, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too - your name, I beseech you sir?”

“Truffle Shuffle,” the third fairy said.

“Good Master Shuffle, I know your patience well.  That same cowardly, giantlike ox-beef hath devoured many a gentlecolt of your house,” Caramel joked.  “I promise you your kindred hath my eyes water ere now.  I desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Shuffle.”

“Come, wait upon him,” Luna ordered.  “Lead him to my bower.  The moon methinks looks with a watery eye.  And then she weeps, weeps every little flower, lamenting some enforced chastity.  Tie up my love’s tongue.  Bring him silently.”

The queen’s servants lead Caramel to Luna special bedchamber, where she had something planned for him while the night is still young.