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Start of scene
Are we all met?
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Quince: Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal.
Peter Quince,--
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Quince: What sayest thou, bully Bottom?
There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisbe that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?
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Starveling: I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done.
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 assurance, tell them that I, Pyramus, am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver: this will put them out of fear.
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Robin: Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion.
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. I fyou think I come hither as a lion, it were pity on 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.
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Blunt: Doth the moon shine that night we play our play?
A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac; find out moonshine, find out moonshine.
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Quince: Yes, it doth shine that night.
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.
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Snout: You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom?
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 Thisbe whisper.
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Quince: Speak, Pyramus. Thisbe, stand forth.
Thisbe, the flowers of odious savours sweet,--
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Quince: Odours, odours.
--odours savours sweet: / So hath they breath, my dearest Thisbe dear. / But hark, a voice! stay thou but here awhile, / And by and by I will to thee appear.
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Flute: O,--As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire.
If I were fair, Thisbe, I were only thine.
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Quince: O montrous! O strange! we are haunted. Pray, masters! fly, masters! Help!
Why do they run away? this is a knavery of them to make me afeard.
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Blunt: O Bottom, thou art changed! what do I see on thee?
What do you see? you see an asshead of your own, do you?
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Blunt: Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art translated.
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,--
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Titania: On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee.
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.
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Titania: Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.
Not so, neither: but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn.
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Mustardseed: Hail!
I cry your worship's mercy, heartily: I beseech your worship's name.
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Cobweb: Cobweb.
I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Mistress Cobweb: if I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you. Your name, honest gentlewoman?
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Peaseblossom: Peaseblossom.
I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and to Master Peascod, your father. Your name, I beseech you, miss?
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Mustardseed: Mustardseed.
Good Mistress Mustardseed, 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 had made my eyes water ere now.
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