The Dream Of A Midsummer Eve

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This Friday, I am to meet with a fellow worker - Signor Stuart, to show him some of my recent plays - 'Macbeth' and 'The Dream Of A Midsummer Eve'. However it is unfinished. To conclude a play, it is like stopping a cesspit from smelling; or animals escaping from their pens. It is impossible.

The wife calleth the children, and the Queen calleth me to perform in my beautiful Globe Theatre, and Robin calleth me...

If we shadows hath committed offence - no

'If we shadows have offended
Think but this and all is mended
That you have but slumbered here
Whilst 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 serpents tounge
We will make amends 'ere long
Else the Puck a liar call
So goodnight unto you all
Give me your hands
If we be friends
And Robin shall restore amends'

That is it, finé, completed.

Everytime I find myself at the end of a play, I feel complete, none moreso than I do now. I will to bed, to rest, to be ready to meet Mr Stuart, to see the twins, to perform...

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