Wousel Cock

(sung and spoken by the composer)

BOTTOM (during music introduction)
I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me;
to fright me, if they could. 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.
[Sings:]
The wousel cock so black of hue,
With orange-tawny bill,
The throstle with his note so true,
The wren with little quill,--
TITANIA
[Awaking] What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?
BOTTOM
[Sings:]
The finch, the sparrow and the lark,
The plain-song cuckoo gray,
Whose note full many a man doth mark,
And dares not answer nay;--
[spoken]
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?
TITANIA
I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again:
Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note;
So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape;
And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me
On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee.
BOTTOM
Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason
for that: and yet, to say the truth, reason and
love keep little company together now-a-days
TITANIA
Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.
BOTTOM
Not so, neither: but if I had wit enough to get out
of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn.
TITANIA
Out of this wood do not desire to go:
Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no.
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.
Enter PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH, and
MUSTARDSEED
Peaseblossom!
PEASEBLOSSOM
Ready.
TITANIA
Cobweb!
COBWEB
And I.
TITANIA
Moth!
MOTH
And I.
TITANIA
and Mustardseed!
MUSTARDSEED
And I.
ALL
Where shall we go?
TITANIA
Be kind and courteous to this gentleman;
Feed him with apricocks and dewberries,
With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries;
And pluck the wings from Painted butterflies
To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes:
Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.
PEASEBLOSSOM
Hail, mortal!
COBWEB
Hail!
MOTH
Hail!
MUSTARDSEED
Hail!
TITANIA
Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower.
The moon methinks looks with a watery eye;
And when she weeps, weeps every little flower,
Lamenting some enforced chastity.
Tie up my love's tongue bring him silently.
Exeunt

Music ©2009 by Michael Sirotta