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A Time that Lovers Flights doth still conceal,
Her. And in the Wood, where often you and I
[Exit Hermia. Lys. I will, my Hermia. Helena adieu, As you on him, Demetrius doats on you. [Exit Lyfander.
Hel. How happy fome, o'er othersome can be !
[Exit. Enter Quince, Snug, Botcom, Flute, Snowt, and Straveling.
Quin. Is all our Company here?
Bot. You were best to call them generally, Man by Man, according to the Scrip.
Quin. Here is the Scrowl of every Man's Name, which is thought fit through all Athens, to play in our Enterlude before the Duke and the Dutchess, on his Wedding-day at Night.
Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the Play treats on; then read the Names of the A&ors; and fo grow on to a Point.
Quin. Marry, our Play is the most lamentable Comedy, and most cruel Death of Pyramus and Thisby.
Bot. A very good piece of Work I assure you, and a merry. Now good Peter Quince, call forth
your Actors by the Scrowl. Masters spread your selyes.
Quin. Answer as I call you. Nick Bottom the Wea
Bot. Ready: Name what part I am for, and proceed,
Quin. A Lover that kills himself most gallantly for Love.
Bot. That will ask some Tears in the true performing of it; if I doit, let the Audience look to their Eyes; I will condole in fome measure. To the rest yet, my chief Hu. mour is for a Tyrant; I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a Cat in, to make all split to raging Rocks, and shivering Shocks shall break the Locks of Prison-Gates, and Phiba bus's Carr shall shine from far, and make and mar the Foolifh Fates. This was lofty. Now name the rest of the Play,
This is Ercles Vein, a Tyrant's Vein; a Lover is more condoling
Quin. Francis Flute the Bellows-mender.
Flu. Nay faith, let not me play a Woman, I have a Beard coming.
Quin. That's all one, you shall play it in a Mask, and you may speak as small as you will.
Bot. And 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.
Quin. No, no, you must play Pyramus, and Flute your Thisby.
Bot. Well, proceed.
Quin. Robin Straveling, you must play Thisby's Mo. ther. Tom Snowt, the Tinker.
Snowt. Here Peter Quince.
Quin. You Pyramus's Father; my felf, Thisby's Father ; Snug, the Joiner, you the Lion's part; and I hope there is a
Snug. Have you the Lion's Part written? Pray you if it be give it me, for I am Now of Study.
Onin. You may do it Extempore, for it is nothing but Roaring.
Bot. 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, Het him roar again, let him roar again.
Quin. If you should do it too terribly, you would fright the Dutchess and the Ladies, that they would shriek, and that were enough to hang us all,
All. That would hang us every Mother's Son.
Bot. I grant you Friend, if that you should fright the Ladies out of their Wits, they would have no more Disa cretion but to hang us; but I will aggravate my Voice fog that I will roar you as gently as any fucking Dóve; I will roar and 'twere any Nightingal.
Quin. You can play no Part but Pyramus, for Pyramus is a sweet-fac'd Man, a proper Man as one shall see in a Summer's Day; a most lovely Gentleman-like-man, therefore you must needs play Pyramus.
Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What Beard were I be to play it in?
Quin. Why, what you will.
Bot. I will discharge it in either your Straw.colour Beard, your Orange-tawny Beard, your Purple-in-grain Beard, or your French-crown-colour'd, Beard, your perfe& yellow.
Onin. Some of your French-Crowns have no Hair at all, and then you will play bare-fac'd. But Masters here are your Parts, and I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by to Morrow' Night; and meet me in the Palace-Wood, a Mile without the Town, by Moonlight, there we will Rehearse; for if we meet in the City, we shall be dog'd with Company, and our Devices known. In the mean time I will draw a Bill of Properties, such as our Play wants. I
pray you fail not.
Quin. At the Duke's Oak we meet.
Enter a Fairy at one Door, and Puck or Robin-goodfellow
Puck How Dover Spir, over Dale, through
Over Park, over Pale, through Flood, through Fire, (Briar,
Take heed the Queen come not within his Sight,
Fai. Either I mistake your Shape and Making quite,
Puck. Thou speak’st aright;