A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Is everyone here?

You should call their names generally, one person at a time, in the order in which their names appear on this piece of paper.

This is a list of the names of all the men in Athens who are good enough to act in the play we’re going to perform for the duke and duchess on their wedding night.

First, Peter Quince, tell us what the play is about, then read the names of the actors, and then shut up.

All right. Our play is called A Very Tragic Comedy About the Horrible Deaths of Pyramus and Thisbe.

Let me tell you, it’s a great piece of work, and very—funny.—Now, Peter Quince, call the names of the actors on the list. Men, gather around him.

Answer when I call your name.—Nick Bottom, the weaver?

Here. Tell me which part I’m going to play, then go on.

You, Nick Bottom, have been cast as Pyramus.

What’s Pyramus? A lover or a tyrant?

A lover who kills himself very nobly for love.

I’ll have to cry to make my performance believable. And as soon as I start crying, oh boy, the audience had better watch out, because they’ll start crying too. I’ll make tears pour out of their eyes like rainstorms. I’ll moan very believably.—Name the other actors.—But I’m really in the mood to play a tyrant. I could do a great job with Hercules, or any other part that requires ranting and raving. I would rant and rave really well. Like this, listen.

The raging rocks

And shivering shocks

Will break the locks

Of prison gates.

And the sun-god’s car

Will shine from far

Away, and make and mar

Foolish fate.

Oh, that was truly inspired!—Now tell us who the other actors are.—By the way, my performance just now was in the style of Hercules, the tyrant style. A lover would have to be weepier, of course.

Francis Flute, the bellows-repairman?

Here, Peter Quince.

Flute, you’ll be playing the role of Thisbe.

Who’s Thisbe? A knight on a quest?

Thisbe is the lady Pyramus is in love with.

No, come on, don’t make me play a woman. I’m growing a beard.

That doesn’t matter. You’ll wear a mask, and you can make your voice as high as you want to.

In that case, if I can wear a mask, let me play Thisbe too! I’ll be Pyramus first: “Thisne, Thisne!”—And then in falsetto: “Ah, Pyramus, my dear lover! I’m your dear Thisbe, your dear lady!”

No, no. Bottom, you’re Pyramus.—And Flute, you’re Thisbe.

All right. Go on.

Robin Starveling, the tailor?

Here, Peter Quince.

Robin Starveling, you’re going to play Thisbe’s mother.—Tom Snout, the handyman.

Here, Peter Quince.

You’ll be Pyramus’ father—I’ll play Thisbe’s father myself—Snug, the cabinetmaker, you’ll play the part of the lion.—So that’s everyone. I hope this play is well cast now.

Do you have the lion’s part written down? If you do, please give it to me, because I need to start learning the lines. It takes me a long time to learn things.

You can improvise the whole thing. It’s just roaring.

Let me play the lion too. I’ll roar so well that it’ll be an inspiration to anyone who hears me. I’ll roar so well that the duke will say, “Let him roar again. Let him roar again.”

If you roar too ferociously, you’ll scare the duchess and the other ladies and make them scream. And that would get us all executed.

Yeah, that would get every single one of us executed.

Well, my friends, you’ve got to admit that if you scare the living daylights out of the ladies, they’d have no choice but to execute us. But I’ll soften my voice—you know, aggravate it, so to speak—so that I’ll roar as gently as a baby dove. I’ll roar like a sweet, peaceful nightingale.

You can’t play any part except Pyramus. Because Pyramus is a good-looking man, the most handsome man that you could find on a summer’s day, a lovely gentlemanly man. So you’re the only one who could play Pyramus.

Well then, I’ll do it. What kind of beard should I wear for the part?

Whatever kind you want, I guess.

I’ll play the part wearing either a straw-colored beard, or a sandy beard, or a red beard, or one of those bright yellow beards that’s the color of a French coin.

Some French people don’t have beards at all, because syphilis has made all their hair fall out, so you might have to play the part clean-shaven.—But gentlemen, here are your scripts, and I beg you to please learn them by tomorrow night. Meet me in the duke’s forest a mile outside of town. It’s best to rehearse there, because if we do it here in the city, we’ll be bothered by crowds of people and everyone will know the plot of our play. Meanwhile, I’ll make a list of props that we’ll need for the play. Now make sure you show up, all of you. Don’t leave me in the lurch.

We’ll be there, and there we’ll rehearse courageously and wonderfully, truly obscenely. Work hard, know your lines. Goodbye.

We’ll meet at the giant oak tree in the duke’s forest.

Got it? Be there, or don’t show your face again.