Are we all met?

Pat, pat. And here's a marvelous convenient 816place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our 817stage, this hawthorn brake our tiring house, and we will 818do it in action, as we will do it before the duke.

Peter Quince?

What sayest thou bully Bottom?

There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and 822Thisby, that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a 823sword to kill himself, which the ladies cannot abide. 824How answer you that?

By'r lakin, a parlous fear.

I believe we must leave the killing out, when 827all is done.

Not a whit. I have a device to make all well. 829Write me a prologue, and let the prologue seem to say, 830we will do no harm with our swords, and that Pyramus 831is not killed indeed. And, for the more better assurance, 832tell them, that I Pyramus am not Pyramus, but Bottom the 833weaver. This will put them out of fear.

Well, we will have such a prologue, and it shall 835be written in eight and six.

No, make it two more. Let it be written in eight 837and eight.

Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion?

I fear it, I promise you.

Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves, to 841bring in (God shield us) a lion among ladies is a most 842dreadful thing. For there is not a more fearful wild 843fowl than your Lyon living, and we ought to look 844to it.

Therefore, another prologue must tell he is not 846a lion.

Nay, you must name his name, and half his face 848must be seen through the lion's neck, and he himself 849must speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect: 850"Ladies," or "faire ladies, I would wish you," or "I would 851request you," or "I would entreat you, not to fear, not to 852tremble, my life for yours. If you think I come hither 853as a lion, it were pity of my life. No, I am no such 854thing. I am a man as other men are." And there, indeed, let 855him name his name, and tell him plainly he is Snug the 856joiner.

Well, it shall be so. But there is two hard 858things: that is, to bring the moonlight into a 859chamber, for you know Pyramus and Thisby meet by 860moonlight.

Doth the moon shine that night we play our 862play?

A calendar, a calendar! Look in the almanac. 864Find out moonshine, find out moonshine!

Yes, it doth shine that night.

Why, then may you leave a casement of the great 868chamber window where we play open, and the moon 869may shine in at the casement.

Ay, or else one must come in with a bush of thorns 871and a lantern, and say he comes to disfigure, or to 872present the person of moonshine. Then there is another 873thing. We must have a wall in the great chamber, for 874Pyramus and Thisby, says the story, did talk through the 875chink of a wall.

You can never bring in a wall. What say you, 877Bottom?

Some man or other must present wall, and let 879him have some plaster, or some loam, or some rough 880cast about him, to signify wall; or let him hold his 881fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus and 882Thisby whisper.

If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit 884down every mother's son, and rehearse your parts. 885Pyramus, you begin. When you have spoken your speech, 886enter into that brake, and so every one according to his 887cue.

3.1.26What hempen homespuns have we 890swaggering here,

3.1.27891So near the cradle of the fairy queen?

3.1.28892What, a play toward? I'll be an auditor,

3.1.29893An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause.

Speak Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth.

Thisby, the flowers of odious savors sweet --

Odors, odors.

3.1.34Odors savors sweet; 898So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear.

3.1.35899But hark, a voice! Stay thou but here a while,

3.1.36900And by and by I will to thee appear.

A stranger Pyramus, then e're played here.

Must I speak now?

Ay, marry must you. For you must understand he 904goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come 905again.

3.1.41Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, 907Of color like the red rose on triumphant brier.

3.1.42908Most brisky juvenile, and eke most lovely Jew,

3.1.43909As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire.

3.1.44910I'll meet thee Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb.

Ninus' tomb man. Why, you must not speak

912that yet. That you answer to Pyramus. You speak all 913your part at once, cues and all. Pyramus enter. Your cue is 914past; it is "never tire."

3.1.47O, as true as truest horse, that yet would never 916tire.

If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine.

Oh monstrous! Oh strange! We are haunted! Pray

919masters, fly masters! Help!

3.1.51I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round, 922Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier,

3.1.52923Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound,

3.1.53924A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire;

3.1.54925And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn,

3.1.55926Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn.

Why do they run away? This is a knavery of

929them to make me afeard.

O Bottom, thou art changed! What doe I see on 931thee?

What do you see? You see an ass-head of your 933own, do you?

Bless thee Bottom, bless thee! Thou art 936translated.

I see their knavery. This is to make an ass of me, 938to fright me if they could. But I will not stir from 939this place, do what they can. I will walk up and down 940here, and I will sing that they shall hear I am not 941afraid.

3.1.61942The ouzel cock, so black of hew,

3.1.62943With orange-tawny bill.

3.1.63944The throstle, with his note so true,

3.1.64945The wren with little quill.

What Angel wakes me from my flowery bed?

The finch, the sparrow, and the lark,

3.1.67948The plainsong cuckoo gray,

3.1.68949Whose note full many a man doth mark,

3.1.69950And dares not answer nay.

3.1.70951For indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird? 952Who would give a bird the lie, though he cry cuckoo, 953never so?

3.1.72I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again.

955Mine ear is much enamored of thy note;

3.1.73956On the first view to say -- to swear -- I love thee!

3.1.74957So is mine eye enthrallèd to thy shape.

3.1.75958And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me.

Methinks, mistress, you should have little

960reason for that. And yet, to say the truth, reason and 961love keep little company together, nowadays. 962The more the pity, that some honest neighbors will 963not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek, upon 964occasion.

Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.

Not so, neither; but if I had wit enough to get

967out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own 968turn.

3.1.80Out of this wood, do not desire to go.

3.1.81970Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no.

3.1.82971I am a spirit of no common rate.

3.1.83972The summer still doth tend upon my state,

3.1.84973And I do love thee. Therefore go with me.

3.1.85974I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee,

3.1.86975And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep,

3.1.87976And sing, while thou on pressèd flowers dost sleep.

3.1.88977And I will purge thy mortal grossness so

3.1.89978That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.

Ready; and I, and I, and I. Where shall we go?

3.1.92Be kind and courteous to this gentleman.

983Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes;

3.1.93984Feed him with apricots, and dewberries,

3.1.94985With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries.

3.1.95986The honeybags steal from the humble bees,

3.1.96987And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs,

3.1.97988And light them at the fiery glowworm's eyes,

3.1.98989To have my love to bed, and to arise;

3.1.99990And pluck the wings from painted butterflies

3.1.100991To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.

3.1.101992Nod to him elves, and do him courtesies.

Hail, mortal, hail.

Hail.

Hail.

I cry your worships' mercy heartily! I beseech 997your worship's name?

Cobweb.

I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good 1000Master Cobweb. If I cut my finger, I shall make bold 1001with you. 1002Your name, honest gentleman?

Peaseblossom.

I pray you, commend me to mistress Squash, 1005your mother, and to master Peascod, your father. Good 1006master Peaseblossom, I shall desire of you more 1007acquaintance too. Your name, I beseech you sir?

Mustardseed.

Good master Mustardseede, I know your 1011patience well. That same cowardly giant-like ox beef 1012hath devoured many a gentleman of your house. I 1013promise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere 1014now. I desire you more acquaintance, good Master 1015Mustardseed.

3.1.114Come wait upon him; lead him to my bower. 1017The moon, methinks, looks with a watery eye,

3.1.1151018And when she weeps, weeps every little flower,

3.1.1161019Lamenting some enforced chastity.

3.1.1171020Tie up my lover's tongue, bring him silently.