Chapter: SCENE II.
Athens. QUINCE'S house

Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING

  QUINCE. Is all our company here?
  BOTTOM. You were best to call them generally, man by man,
according
    to the scrip.
  QUINCE. Here is the scroll of every man's name which is thought
    fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the
Duke
    and the Duchess on his wedding-day at night.
  BOTTOM. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on;
then
    read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point.
  QUINCE. Marry, our play is 'The most Lamentable Comedy and most
    Cruel Death of Pyramus and Thisby.'
  BOTTOM. 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.
  QUINCE. Answer, as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver.
  BOTTOM. Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed.
  QUINCE. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus.
  BOTTOM. What is Pyramus? A lover, or a tyrant?
  QUINCE. A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love.
  BOTTOM. 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.
  QUINCE. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.
  FLUTE. Here, Peter Quince.
  QUINCE. Flute, you must take Thisby on you.
  FLUTE. What is Thisby? A wand'ring knight?
  QUINCE. It is the lady that Pyramus must love.
  FLUTE. Nay, faith, let not me play a woman; I have a beard
coming.
  QUINCE. That's all one; you shall play it in a mask, and you
may
    speak as small as you will.
  BOTTOM. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too.
    I'll speak in a monstrous little voice: 'Thisne, Thisne!'
    [Then speaking small] 'Ah Pyramus, my lover dear! Thy
    Thisby dear, and lady dear!'
  QUINCE. No, no, you must play Pyramus; and, Flute, you Thisby.
  BOTTOM. Well, proceed.
  QUINCE. Robin Starveling, the tailor.
  STARVELING. Here, Peter Quince.
  QUINCE. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother.
    Tom Snout, the tinker.
  SNOUT. Here, Peter Quince.
  QUINCE. You, Pyramus' father; myself, Thisby's father; Snug,
the
    joiner, you, the lion's part. And, I hope, here is a play
fitted.
  SNUG. Have you the lion's part written? Pray you, if it be,
give it
    me, for I am slow of study.
  QUINCE. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.
  BOTTOM. 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.'
  QUINCE. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the
    Duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were
    enough to hang us all.
  ALL. That would hang us, every mother's son.
  BOTTOM. I grant you, friends, if 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 an 'twere any
nightingale.
  QUINCE. 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.
  BOTTOM. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to
play
    it in?
  QUINCE. Why, what you will.
  BOTTOM. 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.
  QUINCE. 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 will we rehearse; for if we
meet in
    the city, we shall be dogg'd with company, and our devices
known.
    In the meantime I will draw a bill of properties, such as our
    play wants. I pray you, fail me not.
  BOTTOM. We will meet; and there we may rehearse most obscenely
and
    courageously. Take pains; be perfect; adieu.
  QUINCE. At the Duke's oak we meet.
  BOTTOM. Enough; hold, or cut bow-strings.               Exeunt

 Elsewhere in Athens, a group of "Mechanicals" meet up to practice a play they plan to perform at Theseus and Hippolyta's upcoming wedding. Individually, they are Peter Quince the carpenter, Snug the joiner, Bottom the weaver, Flute the bellows mender, Snout the tinker, and Starveling the tailor. Quince is the brains of the operation, and he'll lead the Mechanicals as they rehearse and then perform the chosen play, The most lamentable comedy and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisbe. Brain Snack: Pyramus and Thisbe is a story from Roman mythology about two young lovers who die tragically after running off to elope. Sound familiar? It's one of the major literary sources for Romeo and Juliet, which Shakespeare wrote around the same time as A Midsummer Night's Dream. Shakespeare got the story of Pyramus and Thisbe from Book 4 of Ovid's Metamorphoses. Bottom, who is definitely not the brains of the operation, announces that it sounds like a happy piece of work for the wedding night. We're guessing that Bottom missed the whole "cruel death" part. Quince proceeds to assign each man his role. Bottom is to be "Pyramus," the male lead. Bottom asks if Pyramus is a lover or a tyrant. Quince responds that Pyramus is a lover who dies for love. Bottom promises to bring the audience to tears, though he thinks he'd be better at playing a tyrant. He's also sure he could put on a good Hercules. Bottom delivers some really bad poetry to prove the point. Quince keeps reading down the role assignments. Flute will be "Thisbe." Unfortunately, Thisbe is not the wandering knight Flute had hoped, but a woman in love . Flute claims he can't do this role because he's sure his beard will grow in soon. Anyway, Quince points out that the peach fuzz is irrelevant; Flute will play Thisbe in a mask. Deal with it. Bottom heartily volunteers to play Thisbe, too, and claims he can make his voice tiny, womanly, and beautiful. Quince continues to assign the roles: Starveling will be Thisbe's mother and Quince, her father. Snout will play Pyramus's father, and Snug will play the part of the lion, which is nothing but roaring. After hearing about the roaring, Bottom offers to play the lion, too, as he can roar quite fearsomely. Still, the terrifying noises might upset the ladies, so Bottom volunteers to roar as gently as a dove. Quince cuts off all of this nonsense: Bottom must play Pyramus because he's the prettiest and most gentlemanly of the group. Then there's a long discussion about what kind of beard Bottom should have for the role. Bottom wonders if he should wear a "French-crown-colour beard" . Quince takes this opportunity to crack a dirty joke about there being so many bald "French crowns" in the world. After this little exchange, Quince tells his crew to memorize their lines and meet in the woods tomorrow night. Since it's private and shielded from the Athenian court, it's the perfect rehearsal spot. Bottom confirms the plans, as well as his commitment to act obscenely , and the craftsmen depart. Brain Snack: When Shakespeare wrote A Midsummer Night's Dream, craftsmen didn't usually run around putting on plays like this. Back in early medieval England, though, guilds of craftsmen got together each year and put on plays for the Corpus Christi festival. So, Shakespeare's "Mechanicals" are a shout-out to the craftsmen who moonlighted as amateur actors each year.

