A Midsummer Night’s Dream - Act 5 Scene 1

Athens. The palace of THESEUS.

Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, Lords and Attendants

HIPPOLYTA
'Tis strange my Theseus, that these lovers speak of.

Theseus' dismissal of "fairy toys" is deeply ironic, in the context of this play, and puts the audience in the position of superior knowledge.

Theseus equates madness, love, and art, in that all three are based in the imagination, concocting imaginary causes for real effects: the lover imagines impossible beauty, in order to justify his love; the madman imagines danger everywhere, to justify his fear; and the artist imagines all kinds of things, and gives them names and shapes through art.

THESEUS
More strange than true. I never may believe
These antique fables, nor these fairy toys.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover and the poet
Are of imagination all compact.
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold;
That is the madman. The lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt.
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination,
That if it would but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Or in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush supposed a bear!

Hippolyta points out that the lovers' stories all match, suggesting that they contain some element of truth, however unbelievable.

HIPPOLYTA
But all the story of the night told over,
And all their minds transfigured so together,
More witnesseth than fancy's images
And grows to something of great constancy;
But, howsoever, strange and admirable.

THESEUS
Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.

The lovers, like Theseus and Hippolyta are arriving from their wedding, and may be newly dressed in wedding finery.

Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and HELENA

Joy, gentle friends! Joy and fresh days of love
Accompany your hearts!

LYSANDER
    More than to us
Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed!

The play skips over the wedding and wedding-feast entirely, focusing on the period between feast and bedtime, when the excited (and possibly tipsy) newlyweds are bored and looking for amusement.

THESEUS
Come now, what masques, what dances shall we have,
To wear away this long age of three hours
Between our after-supper and bed-time?
Where is our usual manager of mirth?
What revels are in hand? Is there no play,
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
Call Philostrate.

PHILOSTRATE
Here, mighty Theseus.

THESEUS
Say, what abridgement have you for this evening?
What masque? What music? How shall we beguile
The lazy time, if not with some delight?

PHILOSTRATE
There is a brief how many sports are ripe.
Make choice of which your highness will see first.

[Giving a paper]

All the proposed entertainments are based on Classical Greek legends, and most seem somber and tragic, hardly appropriate for wedding festivities.

THESEUS
[Reads]
'The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung
By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.'
We'll none of that. That have I told my love,
In glory of my kinsman Hercules.

[Reads]
'The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.'
That is an old device, and it was played
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.

[Reads]
'The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
Of Learning, late deceased in beggary.'
That is some satire, keen and critical,
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony

[Reads]
'A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus
And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth.'
Merry and tragical? Tedious and brief?
That is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord?

Philostrate acts as Master of the Revels, the officer charged with overseeing plays in Shakespeare's time. Part of his job was to read the scripts and watch the plays, to determine their suitability for performance. His description of Pyramus and Thisbe is meant to dissuade Theseus, but may only whet the audience's appetite for the travesty to come.

PHILOSTRATE
A play there is, my lord, some ten words long,
Which is as brief as I have known a play;
But by ten words, my lord, it is too long,
Which makes it tedious. For in all the play
There is not one word apt, one player fitted.
And tragical, my noble lord, it is,
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
Which, when I saw rehearsed, I must confess,
Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
The passion of loud laughter never shed.

THESEUS
What are they that do play it?

PHILOSTRATE
Hard-handed men that work in Athens here,
Which never laboured in their minds till now,
And now have toiled their unbreathed memories
With this same play, against your nuptial.

THESEUS
And we will hear it.

PHILOSTRATE
  No, my noble lord,
It is not for you. I have heard it over,
And it is nothing, nothing in the world,
Unless you can find sport in their intents,
Extremely stretched and conned with cruel pain,
To do you service.

THESEUS
  I will hear that play;
For never anything can be amiss,
When simpleness and duty tender it.
Go, bring them in: and take your places, ladies.

Hippolyta's comment may be taken to mean that she does not wish to see people performing badly, or that she does not enjoy bad performances being mocked.

Exit PHILOSTRATE

HIPPOLYTA
I love not to see wretchedness o'er charged
And duty in his service perishing.

THESEUS
Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.

HIPPOLYTA
He says they can do nothing in this kind.

Theseus refers to his experience as Duke and as a hero: people get often tongue-tied around him, and he sees it as his duty to accept their mangled speeches for their sincere intention, rather than their botched delivery. The lack of skill, he claims, can be proof of the honest sentiment.

THESEUS
The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing.
Our sport shall be to take what they mistake,
And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect
Takes it in might, not merit.
Where I have come, great clerks have purposèd
To greet me with premeditated welcomes,
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practised accent in their fears
And in conclusion dumbly have broke off,
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet,
Out of this silence yet I picked a welcome,
And in the modesty of fearful duty
I read as much as from the rattling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity
In least speak most, to my capacity.

Re-enter PHILOSTRATE

PHILOSTRATE
So please your grace, the Prologue is addressed.

The Prologue was a conventional figure; he  usually appeared carrying a book, and would describe the plot of the play.

THESEUS
Let him approach.

Flourish of trumpets

Enter QUINCE for the Prologue

Quince's Prologue enacts Theseus' comment from line 100: he puts "periods in the midst of sentences," altering the meaning of his lines so that they become inadvertently insulting, expressing a desire to offend.

QUINCE (as Prologue)
If we offend, it is with our good will.
That you should think, we come not to offend,
But with good will. To show our simple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end.
Consider then we come but in despite.
We do not come as minding to contest you,
Our true intent is. All for your delight
We are not here. That you should here repent you,
The actors are at hand and by their show
You shall know all that you are like to know.

The audience now watches both the mechanicals' play and Theseus and company's criticism of it. The double spectacle serves as entertainment, but also as a guide on "how not to behave at the theatre."

THESEUS
This fellow doth not stand upon points.

LYSANDER
He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows
not the stop. A good moral, my lord: it is not
enough to speak, but to speak true.

HIPPOLYTA
Indeed he hath played on his prologue like a child
on a recorder: a sound, but not in government.

All the parts (i.e. words) of the prologue were present, Theseus explains, but disorganized and thus incoherent.

THESEUS
His speech was like a tangled chain: nothing
impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?

Enter BOTTOM (as Pyramus) and FLUTE (as Thisbe), SNOUT (as Wall),
STARVELING (as Moonshine), and SNUG (as Lion)

As Quince introduces the players, they may step forward and bow, or strike poses and tableaux, perform the story in mime (or "dumb show"), or shuffle awkwardly to indicate their discomfort or embarrassment.

By this point, Quince seems more in control of his text, speaking in clear and proper sentences. He may have resorted to reading, or he may be gaining confidence as he progresses.

QUINCE (as Prologue)
Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show,
But wonder on, till truth make all things plain.
This man is Pyramus, if you would know;
This beauteous lady Thisby is certain.
This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present
Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder;
And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they are content
To whisper. At the which let no man wonder.
This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn,
Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know,
By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn
To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.
This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name,
The trusty Thisby, coming first by night,
Did scare away, or rather did affright;
And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall,
Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain.
Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall
And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain:
Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast;
And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade,
His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,
Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain
At large discourse, while here they do remain.

Exeunt QUINCE, FLUTE, SNUG, and STARVELING

THESEUS
I wonder if the lion be to speak.

DEMETRIUS
No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses do.

SNOUT (as Wall)
In this same interlude it doth befall
That I, one Snout by name, present a wall;
And such a wall, as I would have you think,
That had in it a crannied hole or chink,
Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby,
Did whisper often very secretly.
This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth show
That I am that same wall; the truth is so.
And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.

Theseus' comment points to the paradox in the mechanicals' staging: they have made Wall "realistic" by loading him with loam, rough-cast, and stone, but then they have also made him speak, destroying the realism even as he points it out.

THESEUS
Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?

DEMETRIUS
It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard
discourse, my lord.

Enter BOTTOM (as Pyramus)

THESEUS
Pyramus draws near the wall. Silence!

Bottom's lines are characteristically over the top, recalling his playing in "the tyrant's vein" in 1.2.

BOTTOM (as Pyramus)
O grim-looked night! O night with hue so black!
O night, which ever art when day is not!
O night, O night! Alack, alack, alack,
I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot!
And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall,
That stand'st between her father's ground and mine!
Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall,
Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne!

The Wall displays his "chink" at this point. In some productions, he opens his legs rather than using his fingers, making some of the later jokes more overtly sexual.


[Wall holds up his fingers]

Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for this!
But what see I? No Thisby do I see.
O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss!
Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me!

THESEUS
The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.

Bottom breaks a cardinal rule of theatre, abandoning the play momentarily in order to correct Theseus. This is the first indication that the performers can hear the mocking commentary, which may surprise Theseus. 

Flute's line about kissing the Wall's "stones" becomes more rude (and funnier) if it is addressed through the Wall's legs.

BOTTOM
No, in truth, sir, he should not. 'Deceiving me'
is Thisby's cue. She is to enter now, and I am to
spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will
fall pat as I told you. Yonder she comes.

Enter FLUTE (as Thisbe)

FLUTE (as Thisbe)
O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans,
For parting my fair Pyramus and me!
My cherry lips have often kissed thy stones,
Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.

BOTTOM (as Pyramus)
I see a voice. Now will I to the chink,
To spy an I can hear my Thisbe's face. Thisbe!

Flute also seems to be having some difficulty with punctuation. This line would logically read "My love? Thou art my love, I think."

FLUTE (as Thisbe)
My love thou art, my love I think.

BOTTOM (as Pyramus)
Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace,
And, like Lemander, am I trusty still.

Pyramus and Thisbe compare themselves to some of history's greatest tragic lovers, though they mangle the names, combining high tragedy with absurd comedy.

FLUTE (as Thisbe)
And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill.

BOTTOM (as Pyramus)
Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.

FLUTE (as Thisbe)
As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.

BOTTOM (as Pyramus)
O kiss me through the hole of this vile wall!

FLUTE (as Thisbe)
I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.

If Quince is visible and acting as prompter, he may wince noticeably at Bottom's renewed mispronunciation of "Ninus."

BOTTOM (as Pyramus)
Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway?

FLUTE (as Thisbe)
'Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay.

[Exeunt BOTTOM (as Pyramus) and FLUTE (as Thisbe), in separate
directions
]

SNOUT (as Wall)
Thus have I, Wall, my part dischargèd so
And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.

Exit

The mechanicals' attempts at realism again sabotage their play: Snout's exit makes it seem that the Wall has come down, an event which doesn't take place until the play's conclusion.

THESEUS
Now is the mural down between the two neighbours.

DEMETRIUS
No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear
without warning.

HIPPOLYTA
This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.

Theseus argues for audiences taking a charitable attitude towards even the poorest performance. This becomes a meta-joke if it is directed out at the audience.

THESEUS
The best in this kind are but shadows, and the worst
are no worse, if imagination amend them.

HIPPOLYTA
It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.

THESEUS
If we imagine no worse of them than they of
themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here
come two noble beasts in, a man and a lion.

Enter SNUG (as Lion) and STARVELING (as Moonshine)

Snug is usually presented as gentle and endearing, though he may also be genuinely terrified that, if he performs too well, he may in fact be put to death.

SNUG (as Lion)
You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear
The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,
May now perchance both quake and tremble here,
When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.
Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am
A lion-fell, nor else no lion's dam;
For, if I should as lion come in strife
Into this place, 'twere pity on my life.

THESEUS
A very gentle beast, of a good conscience.

The animal references are at Snug's expense: foxes are known for cunning (and thus cowardice), while geese are known for stupidity.

DEMETRIUS
The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw.

LYSANDER
This lion is a very fox for his valour.

THESEUS
True, and a goose for his discretion.

DEMETRIUS
Not so, my lord, for his valour cannot carry his
discretion, and the fox carries the goose.

The joke seems to have gotten out of control, and Theseus shuts it down, directing attention back to the play, however briefly.

THESEUS
His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour,
for the goose carries not the fox. It is well.
Leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon.

STARVELING (as Moonshine)
This lantern doth the hornèd moon present— 

Horns were a symbol of a cuckold, thus embarrassing and emasculating. The jokes on "crescent," "circumference," and "wane" are presumably references to Starveling's thin frame.

DEMETRIUS
He should have worn the horns on his head.

THESEUS
He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within
the circumference.

STARVELING (as Moonshine)
This lantern doth the hornèd moon present,
Myself the man i' the moon do seem to be.

The mechanicals are again mocked for their misconceived realism: if the lantern is the moon, then Starveling should logicaly be inside it.

THESEUS
This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man
should be put into the lantern. How is it else the
man i' the moon?

DEMETRIUS
He dares not come there for the candle; for, you see,
it is already in snuff.

If Starveling has a real dog on stage at this point, it may add all kinds of business to the performance.

HIPPOLYTA
I am aweary of this moon. Would he would change!

THESEUS
It appears, by his small light of discretion, that
he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all
reason, we must stay the time.

LYSANDER
Proceed, Moon.

Starveling abandons the play's elaborate verse, suggesting that he is speaking off the cuff; frustrated with the constant interruptions, he delivers his text bluntly, in his own words.

STARVELING (as Moonshine)
All that I have to say, is, to tell you that the
lantern is the moon, I the man in the moon, this
thorn-bush, my thorn-bush, and this dog, my dog.

DEMETRIUS
Why, all these should be in the lantern, for all
these are in the moon. But, silence! Here comes Thisbe.

Enter FLUTE (as Thisbe)

FLUTE (as Thisbe)
This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love?

Snug may roar softly and gently here, though most performances give him the kind of impressive roar that Bottom longs for in 1.2.

SNUG (as Lion)
[Roaring]
Oh—

Thisbe runs off

DEMETRIUS
Well roared, Lion.

THESEUS
Well run, Thisbe.

Hippolyta's special attention to the Moon may be an attempt to make up for the shoddy treatment he received earlier.

HIPPOLYTA
Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with a
good grace.

[The Lion shakes Thisbe's mantle, and exit]

THESEUS
Well moused, Lion.

LYSANDER
And so the lion vanished.

DEMETRIUS
And then came Pyramus.

Enter BOTTOM (as Pyramus)

Bottom's speech begins with sweet (if silly) poetry, and ends with outraged railing, allowing him to range from "condoling" lover to raging tyrant. The speech's conclusion references the Fates, allowing Bottom to use images linked to his work as a weaver.

BOTTOM (as Pyramus)
Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams.
I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright;
For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams,
I trust to take of truest Thisby sight.
But stay, O spite!
But mark, poor knight,
What dreadful dole is here!
Eyes, do you see?
How can it be?
O dainty duck! O dear!
Thy mantle good,
What, stained with blood!
Approach, ye Furies fell!
O Fates, come, come,
Cut thread and thrum,
Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!

Bottom's performance may be pitiful in the sense of genuinely arousing sympathy, or it may be so bad as to make the audience feel sorry for him, or both.

THESEUS
This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would
go near to make a man look sad.

HIPPOLYTA
Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.

BOTTOM (as Pyramus)
O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame?
Since lion vile hath here deflowered my dear:
Which is — no, no — which was the fairest dame
That lived, that loved, that liked, that looked with cheer.       Come, tears, confound;
Out, sword, and wound
The pap of Pyramus;
Ay, that left pap,
Where heart doth hop.

Stabs himself

This death scene is written to be overacted, and in performance it often involves Bottom stabbing himself over and over again, in a sequence that can last quite some time.

Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.
Now am I dead,
Now am I fled,
My soul is in the sky.
Tongue, lose thy light;
Moon take thy flight.

[Exit Moonshine]

Now die, die, die, die, die.

Dies

An "ace" was a roll of one on a die, the lowest possible roll. The word could be pronounced to sound like "ass," prompting Theseus' joke.

DEMETRIUS
No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one.

LYSANDER
Less than an ace, man, for he is dead; he is nothing.

THESEUS
With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover, and
prove an ass.

HIPPOLYTA
How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisbe comes
back and finds her lover?

THESEUS
She will find him by starlight. Here she comes, and
her passion ends the play.

Re-enter FLUTE (as Thisbe)

Hippolyta suggests that Bottom's Pyramus is not worth a long passion, and can be mourned expediently, to bring the play to an end as soon as possible.

Demetrius argues that it is all but impossible to determine whether Pyramus or Thisbe is a better performer, heavily implying that both are atrocious.

HIPPOLYTA
Methinks she should not use a long one for such a
Pyramus. I hope she will be brief.

DEMETRIUS
A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which
Thisbe, is the better; he for a man, God warrant us;
she for a woman, God bless us.

LYSANDER
She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.

DEMETRIUS
And thus she means, videlicet —

Flute now mixes up colours, and flowers: traditionally, the lips would be red, the nose white, and the cheeks either red or pale, but certainly not yellow.

Thisbe once more invokes the Fates, the weaver-goddesses who measure out the thread of human life, weave it into the tapestry of the world, and shear each thread at life's end.

FLUTE (as Thisbe)
Asleep, my love?
What, dead, my dove?
O Pyramus, arise!
Speak, speak. Quite dumb?
Dead, dead? A tomb
Must cover thy sweet eyes.
These lily lips,
This cherry nose,
These yellow cowslip cheeks,
Are gone, are gone.
Lovers, make moan.
His eyes were green as leeks.
O Sisters Three,
Come, come to me
With hands as pale as milk;
Lay them in gore,
Since you have shore
With shears his thread of silk.
Tongue, not a word.
Come, trusty sword,
Come, blade, my breast imbrue.

A traditional bit of business here is that Flute, unable to find the sword (because Bottom flung it away, or is lying on it), adapts by stabbing himself with the scabbard instead.

Stabs herself

And, farewell, friends,
Thus Thisbe ends.
Adieu, adieu, adieu.

Dies

THESEUS
Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead.

DEMETRIUS
Ay, and Wall too.

Bottom again emerges from the play (and rises from the dead) in order to respond to criticism. Conventionally, all plays (including tragedies) would be followed by a jig or energetic comic/ satirical dance.

Theseus is both cruel and kind, forgiving the play's failures and excesses, but also hinting that it would have been equally appropriate for the playwright to commit suicide on stage.

BOTTOM
[Starting up]
No assure you; the wall is down that
parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the
epilogue, or to hear a Bergamask dance between two
of our company?

THESEUS
No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no
excuse. Never excuse; for when the players are all
dead, there needs none to be blamed. Marry, if he
that writ it had played Pyramus and hanged himself
in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine
tragedy; and so it is, truly, and very notably
discharged. But come, your Bergamask. Let your
epilogue alone.

There is no indication as to which two players perform the Bergamask, though Bottom and Flute are frequent choices. There is also no final response to the dance, nor a dismissal of the players.

A dance

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve.
Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time.
I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn
As much as we this night have overwatched.
This palpable-gross play hath well beguiled
The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed.
A fortnight hold we this solemnity,
In nightly revels and new jollity.

Exeunt

Enter PUCK

Puck's lines conjure the supernatural horrors associated with night, recalling the images he used in 3.2.

Puck is often presented carrying a broom for this speech, in accordance with the speech's final lines. In folklore, Robin Goodfellow was held to sweep houses at night, for those who had earned his good favour.

PUCK
Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon,
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night
That the graves all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to glide,
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate's team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic. Not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallowed house.
I am sent with broom before
To sweep the dust behind the door.

This final procession presents Oberon and Titania united, in accord, and followed by their combined retainers.

Enter OBERON and TITANIA with their train

OBERON
Through the house give gathering light.
By the dead and drowsy fire:
Every elf and fairy sprite
Hop as light as bird from brier,
And this ditty, after me,
Sing, and dance it trippingly.

TITANIA
First, rehearse your song by rote
To each word a warbling note.
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.

The fairies' song and dance may be graceful and stately, or wild and energetic, or it may veer from one extreme to the other, depending on how each production wishes to conclude the play.

The conflict between Oberon and Titania, and between the natural and supernatural worlds, has been resolved, and the fairy monarchs unite to bless Theseus and Hippolyta's marriage, and any offspring it produces.

Song and dance

OBERON
Now, until the break of day,
Through this house each fairy stray.
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessèd be,
And the issue there create
Ever shall be fortunate.
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be,
And the blots of Nature's hand
Shall not in their issue stand.
Never mole, hare lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despisèd in nativity,
Shall upon their children be.
With this field-dew consecrate,
Every fairy take his gait;
And each several chamber bless,
Through this palace, with sweet peace;
And the owner of it blessed
Ever shall in safety rest.
Trip away, make no stay,
Meet me all by break of day.

Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and train

Puck's final speech echoes Quince's Prologue in sentiment, but is much better constructed and delivered. It is a conventional epilogue, begging the audience's forgiveness for any flaws in the play, dismissing the play as an insubstantial trifle (and thus not worth getting offended about), and requesting a round of applause. 

PUCK
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearnèd luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long,
Else the Puck a liar call.
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.

Exit