A Midsommer nightes dreame.
¶Quin. Mary, our Play is the mo
st lamentable comedy,
280and mo
st cruell death of
Pyramus and
Thisby.
¶Bot. A very good peece of worke, I a
ssure you, & a mer-
¶ry. Now good
Peeter Quince, call forth your Actors, by the
¶scrowle. Ma
sters,
spreade your
selues.
¶Quin. An
swere, as I call you.
Nick Bottom, the Weauer?
¶Bott. Readie: Name what part I am for, and proceede.
¶Quin. You,
Nick Bottom are
set downe for
Pyramus.
290Bott. What is
Pyramus? A louer, or a tyrant?
¶Quin. A louer that kils him
selfe, mo
st gallant, for loue.
¶Bott. That will a
ske
some teares in the true performing
¶of it. If I doe it, let the Audience looke to their eyes: I wil
295mooue
stormes: I will condole, in
some mea
sure. To the
¶re
st yet, my chiefe humour is for a tyrant. I could play
Er-
¶cles rarely, or a part to teare a Cat in, to make all
split the
¶raging rocks: and
shiuering
shocks,
shall breake the locks
¶of pri
son gates, and
Phibbus carre
shall
shine from farre,
300and make & marre the fooli
sh Fates. This was loftie. Now,
¶name the re
st of the Players. This is
Ercles vaine, a tyrants
¶vaine: A louer is more condoling.
¶Quin. Francis Flute, the Bellowes mender?
305Flu. Here
Peeter Quince.
¶Quin. Flute, you mu
st take
Thisby, on you.
¶Flu. What is
Thisby? A wandring knight?
¶Quin. It is the Lady, that
Pyramus mu
st loue.
¶Fl. Nay faith: let not me play a
womā: I haue a beard cō-
(ming.
¶Quin. Thats all one: you
shall play it in a Ma
ske: and you
¶may
speake as
small as you will.
¶Bott. And I may hide my face, let me play
Thisby to: Ile
¶speake in a mon
strous little voice;
Thisne,
Thisne, ah
Py-,
315ramus my louer deare, thy
Thysby deare, & Lady deare.
¶Qu. No, no: you mu
st play
Pyramus: &
Flute, you
Thysby.
¶Bot. Well, proceede.
Qui. Robin Starueling, the Tailer?
¶Star. Here
Peeter Quince.
¶Quin. Robin Starueling, you mu
st play
Thysbyes mother:
B2