<SPEECH 1><ACT 1><SCENE 2><11%>
<BOTTOM>	<12%>
	You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 2><ACT 1><SCENE 2><12%>
<BOTTOM>	<12%>
	First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors, and so grow to a point.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 3><ACT 1><SCENE 2><12%>
<BOTTOM>	<13%>
	A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll. Masters, spread yourselves.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 4><ACT 1><SCENE 2><12%>
<BOTTOM>	<13%>
	Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 5><ACT 1><SCENE 2><12%>
<BOTTOM>	<13%>
	What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant?
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 6><ACT 1><SCENE 2><12%>
<BOTTOM>	<13%>
	That will ask some tears in the true performing of it: if I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms, I will condole in some measure. To the rest: yet my chief humour is for a tyrant. I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split.

	The raging rocks
	And shivering shocks
	Shall break the locks
	Of prison gates:
	And Phibbus' car
	Shall shine from far
	And make and mar
	The foolish Fates.

	This was lofty! Now name the rest of the players. This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is more condoling.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 7><ACT 1><SCENE 2><13%>
<BOTTOM>	<14%>
	An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too. I'll speak in a monstrous little voice, 'Thisne, Thisne!' 'Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear; thy Thisby dear, and lady dear!'
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 8><ACT 1><SCENE 2><14%>
<BOTTOM>	<14%>
	Well, proceed.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 9><ACT 1><SCENE 2><14%>
<BOTTOM>	<15%>
	Let me play the lion too. I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar, that I will make the duke say, 'Let him roar again, let him roar again.'
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 10><ACT 1><SCENE 2><15%>
<BOTTOM>	<15%>
	I grant you, friends, if that you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us; but I will aggravate my voice so that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you as 'twere any nightingale.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 11><ACT 1><SCENE 2><15%>
<BOTTOM>	<16%>
	Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play it in?
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 12><ACT 1><SCENE 2><15%>
<BOTTOM>	<16%>
	I will discharge it in either your straw-colour beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your French-crown colour beard, your perfect yellow.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 13><ACT 1><SCENE 2><16%>
<BOTTOM>	<16%>
	We will meet; and there we may rehearse more obscenely and courageously. Take pains; be perfect; adieu.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 14><ACT 1><SCENE 2><16%>
<BOTTOM>	<17%>
	Enough; hold, or cut bow-strings.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 15><ACT 3><SCENE 1><35%>
<BOTTOM>	<36%>
	Are we all met?
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 16><ACT 3><SCENE 1><36%>
<BOTTOM>	<37%>
	Peter Quince,—
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 17><ACT 3><SCENE 1><36%>
<BOTTOM>	<37%>
	There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself, which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 18><ACT 3><SCENE 1><36%>
<BOTTOM>	<37%>
	Not a whit: I have a device to make all well. Write me a prologue; and let the prologue seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords, and that Pyramus is not killed indeed; and, for the more better assurance, tell them that I, Pyramus, am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver: this will put them out of fear.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 19><ACT 3><SCENE 1><36%>
<BOTTOM>	<38%>
	No, make it two more: let it be written in eight and eight.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 20><ACT 3><SCENE 1><37%>
<BOTTOM>	<38%>
	Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves: to bring in,—God shield us!—a lion among ladies, is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living, and we ought to look to it.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 21><ACT 3><SCENE 1><37%>
<BOTTOM>	<38%>
	Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck; and he himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect, 'Ladies,' or, 'Fair ladies,' 'I would wish you,' or, 'I would request you,' or, 'I would entreat you, not to fear, not to tremble: my life for yours. If you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life: no, I am no such thing: I am a man as other men are;' and there indeed let him name his name, and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 22><ACT 3><SCENE 1><38%>
<BOTTOM>	<39%>
	A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanack; find out moonshine, find out moonshine.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 23><ACT 3><SCENE 1><38%>
<BOTTOM>	<39%>
	Why, then may you leave a casement of the great chamber-window, where we play, open; and the moon may shine in at the casement.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 24><ACT 3><SCENE 1><38%>
<BOTTOM>	<39%>
	Some man or other must present Wall; and let him have some plaster, or some loam, or some rough-cast about him, to signify wall; and let him hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 25><ACT 3><SCENE 1><39%>
<BOTTOM>	<40%>
	Thisby, the flowers have odious savours sweet,—
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 26><ACT 3><SCENE 1><39%>
<BOTTOM>	<40%>
	—odours savours sweet:
	So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear. But hark, a voice! stay thou but here awhile,
	And by and by I will to thee appear.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 27><ACT 3><SCENE 1><40%>
<BOTTOM>	<41%>
	If I were, fair Thisby, I were only thine.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 28><ACT 3><SCENE 1><41%>
<BOTTOM>	<42%>
	Why do they run away? this is a knavery of them to make me afeard.

</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 29><ACT 3><SCENE 1><41%>
<BOTTOM>	<42%>
	What do you see? you see an ass-head of your own, do you?
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit Snout.>
</STAGE DIR>

</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 30><ACT 3><SCENE 1><41%>
<BOTTOM>	<42%>
	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.

	The ousel-cock, so black of hue,
	With orange-tawny bill,
	The throstle with his note so true,
	The wren with little quill.

</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 31><ACT 3><SCENE 1><42%>
<BOTTOM>	<43%>

	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;

	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?
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 32><ACT 3><SCENE 1><42%>
<BOTTOM>	<43%>
	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. The more the pity, that some honest neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 33><ACT 3><SCENE 1><42%>
<BOTTOM>	<43%>
	Not so, neither; but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 34><ACT 3><SCENE 1><44%>
<BOTTOM>	<45%>
	I cry your worships mercy, heartily: I beseech your worship's name.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 35><ACT 3><SCENE 1><44%>
<BOTTOM>	<45%>
	I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb: if I out my finger, I shall make bold with you. Your name, honest gentleman?
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 36><ACT 3><SCENE 1><44%>
<BOTTOM>	<45%>
	I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and to Master Peascod, your father. Good Master Pease-blossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too. Your name, I beseech you, sir?
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 37><ACT 3><SCENE 1><44%>
<BOTTOM>	<45%>
	Good Master Mustard-seed, I know your patience well: that same cowardly, giant-like ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house. I promise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Mustard-seed.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 38><ACT 4><SCENE 1><67%>
<BOTTOM>	<68%>
	Where's Pease-blossom?
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 39><ACT 4><SCENE 1><68%>
<BOTTOM>	<68%>
	Scratch my head, Pease-blossom. Where's Mounsieur Cobweb?
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 40><ACT 4><SCENE 1><68%>
<BOTTOM>	<68%>
	Mounsieur Cobweb, good mounsieur, get your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and, good mounsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, mounsieur; and, good mounsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loath to have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior. Where's Mounsieur Mustard-seed?
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 41><ACT 4><SCENE 1><68%>
<BOTTOM>	<69%>
	Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustard-seed. Pray you, leave your curtsy, good mounsieur.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 42><ACT 4><SCENE 1><68%>
<BOTTOM>	<69%>
	Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber's, mounsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face; and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 43><ACT 4><SCENE 1><69%>
<BOTTOM>	<69%>
	I have a reasonable good ear in music: let us have the tongs and the bones.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 44><ACT 4><SCENE 1><69%>
<BOTTOM>	<69%>
	Truly, a peck of provender: I could munch your good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 45><ACT 4><SCENE 1><69%>
<BOTTOM>	<70%>
	I had rather have a handful or two of dried pease. But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me: I have an exposition of sleep come upon me.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 46><ACT 4><SCENE 1><77%>
<BOTTOM>	<77%>
<STAGE DIR>
<Awaking.>
</STAGE DIR> When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer: my next is, 'Most fair Pyramus.' Heigh-ho! Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's my life! stolen hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was—there is no man can tell what. Methought I was,—and methought I had,—but man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the duke: peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 47><ACT 4><SCENE 2><79%>
<BOTTOM>	<80%>
	Where are these lads? where are these hearts?
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 48><ACT 4><SCENE 2><79%>
<BOTTOM>	<80%>
	Masters, I am to discourse wonders: but ask me not what; for if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will tell you everything, right as it fell out.
</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 49><ACT 4><SCENE 2><79%>
<BOTTOM>	<80%>
	Not a word of me. All that I will tell you is, that the duke hath dined. Get your apparel together, good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your pumps; meet presently at the palace; every man look o'er his part; for the short and the long is, our play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby have clean linen; and let not him that plays the lion pare his nails, for they shall hang out for the lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath, and I do not doubt but to hear them say, it is a sweet comedy. No more words: away! go; away.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exeunt.>
</STAGE DIR>

</BOTTOM>

<SPEECH 50><ACT 5><SCENE 1><96%>
<BOTTOM>	<97%>
	No, I assure you; the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company?
</BOTTOM>

