Are we all met?
Are we all here?
Everyone here?
everyone here?
Pat, pat; and here’s a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal.
This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn brake our
tiring-house; and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the
Duke.
Exactly right, and here's a wonderfully convenient place for our rehearsal. This green grass will be our stage, this hawthorn bush will be our dressing room, and we'll perform it exactly as we will before the Duke.
Perfect timing, and look—this is ideal. This grass is our stage, this bush is where we change, and we're gonna do it just like we will for the Duke.
perfect spot grass is stage bush is dressing room let's do this
Peter Quince?
Peter Quince?
Quince?
quince?
What sayest thou, bully Bottom?
What do you say, my good Bottom?
What's up, buddy?
what do you need
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?
SNOUT
By’r lakin, a parlous fear.
There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisbe that will never please. First, Pyramus has to draw a sword to kill himself, which the ladies cannot bear. How do we answer that?
Okay, so this Pyramus and Thisbe thing—there's some stuff that's gonna freak people out. Like, Pyramus kills himself with a sword. The ladies aren't gonna like seeing that. So what do we do?
the ladies will hate when he kills himself sword and all how do we fix it
I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done.
I think we need to leave out the killing entirely, when we're done with it.
Yeah, maybe we just cut that part out.
maybe just no killing
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.
Not at all—I have a solution to make everything work well. Write me a prologue, and have the prologue say that we won't hurt anyone with our swords, and that Pyramus isn't actually killed. And to make them feel even safer, tell them that I, Pyramus, am not really Pyramus but Bottom the weaver. That will put them at ease.
Nah, I got this. Write a prologue—have someone come out and say we're not gonna actually hurt anybody, that it's all fake, and nobody dies. And here's the thing—tell them I'm not Pyramus, I'm Bottom the weaver. Problem solved.
i have a solution write a prologue say no one dies say i'm really bottom the ladies will chill
Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be written in eight
and six.
Good, we'll have such a prologue, and it will be written in eight-and-six meter.
Cool, we'll do that prologue, written in eight-and-six.
we'll write it eight and six
No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight.
SNOUT
Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion?
No, make it longer—let it be eight-and-eight.
Actually, make it longer—eight-and-eight.
make it longer eight and eight
I fear it, I promise you.
I'm afraid of it, I promise you.
Yeah, that lion's gonna be a problem.
i'm scared of the lion
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.
SNOUT
Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion.
Friends, you should consider carefully: bringing a lion among ladies is a most terrifying thing. There is no more fearful wild animal than a lion alive, and we must be careful. Therefore another prologue must tell them he is not a lion.
Look, think about it—having a real lion around women is crazy dangerous. Lions are the scariest animals alive, so we gotta be careful. We need another prologue that says the lion's not actually a lion.
a real lion is scary wildest animal we need to say it's not real another prologue
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.
No, you must name his name, and half his face must show through the lion's neck. He must speak through it, saying something like: 'Ladies, my dear ladies, I would ask you, or I would beg you, do not be afraid, do not tremble. My life for yours. If you think I'm coming at you as a lion, it would be a pity of my life. No, I'm no such thing—I'm a man like other men are.' And then let him name his name and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner.
Actually, he's gotta show his face through the lion's neck, and then talk through the costume, right? Like, he'd say, 'Ladies, don't be scared. Don't be afraid. My life for yours. If you think I'm a real lion, you're wrong. I'm a guy, I'm a regular man.' Then he tells them his real name—Snug the joiner.
his face shows he talks through the lion 'don't be scared' 'i'm just a guy' 'i'm snug the joiner'
Well, it shall be so. But there is two hard things: that is, to bring
the moonlight into a chamber, for you know, Pyramus and Thisbe meet by
moonlight.
SNOUT
Doth the moon shine that night we play our play?
Okay, so that's settled. But there are two other big problems: we need to get moonlight into the room where we're playing, because in the story, Pyramus and Thisbe meet by moonlight.
Alright, that's good. But here's the thing—we've got two more problems. We need moonlight in the room where we're doing the show, because Pyramus and Thisbe meet at night under the moon.
ok good but we have problems we need moonlight they meet at night
A calendar, a calendar! Look in the almanack; find out moonshine, find
out moonshine.
Get a calendar, get a calendar! Look in the almanac—find out when moonshine happens, find moonshine.
Get a calendar! Look in the almanac! Find when there's gonna be a moon! Figure it out!
get the calendar look in the almanac when is the moon
Yes, it doth shine that night.
Yes, there will be moonlight that night.
There's a full moon that night.
moon's 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.
Well then, you can just leave a window open—the window of the great chamber where we're performing—and the moon will shine in through the window.
Perfect—just leave a window open in the room, and the moon comes in through it. Easy.
leave window open moon shines in solve
Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lantern, and
say he comes to disfigure or to present the person of Moonshine. Then
there is another thing: we must have a wall in the great chamber; for
Pyramus and Thisbe, says the story, did talk through the chink of a
wall.
SNOUT
You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom?
Yes, or else someone could come in with a bush of thorns and a lantern and say he's there to represent Moonshine. But wait—there's another thing: we need to have a wall in the great chamber, because in the story, Pyramus and Thisbe talked through a crack in a wall. But you can never bring in an actual wall. What do you say, Bottom?
Sure, or somebody comes out with a bush and a lantern and says they're the moon. But here's the problem—we need a wall. Pyramus and Thisbe talk through a crack in the wall, right? But you can't literally bring a wall into a room. Bottom, you got a solution?
or bring lantern and bush it's the moon but we need a wall can't fit a real wall what now
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.
Someone must be the Wall. Let him put some plaster or clay or rough coating on himself to show he's a wall, and let him hold his fingers like this, and through that crack, Pyramus and Thisbe can whisper to each other.
Someone plays the Wall. They get some plaster or clay on them to look like a wall, right? And they hold their fingers apart like this, and Pyramus and Thisbe whisper through the crack between the fingers.
an actor is the wall he gets plaster on fingers apart they whisper through
If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down, every mother’s son,
and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin: when you have spoken your
speech, enter into that brake; and so everyone according to his cue.
If that can be done, then everything is solved. Come on, everyone sit down, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you start. When you finish your speech, exit into the bush, and everyone else come in at your cues.
If we can do that, we're good. Alright everyone, sit down and let's run through it. Bottom, you're Pyramus—go first. Say your part, then exit into the bush, and everyone else enters when it's their turn.
if that works we're good sit down let's run it bottom start exit to bush everyone else on cue
What hempen homespuns have we swaggering here,
So near the cradle of the Fairy Queen?
What, a play toward? I’ll be an auditor;
An actor too perhaps, if I see cause.
What are these rough-dressed men doing here, so close to the Fairy Queen's resting place? What, a play starting? I'll be an audience member. Maybe I'll be an actor too, if I feel like it.
What are these scruffy guys doing out here near where the Fairy Queen sleeps? They're doing a play? Cool, I'll watch. Maybe I'll get involved.
mortals in rough clothes near the queen they're doing a play i'll watch i'll join in
Speak, Pyramus.—Thisbe, stand forth.
Speak, Pyramus. Thisbe, stand forth.
Go, Pyramus. Thisbe, come on.
pyramus go thisbe come on
_Thisbe, the flowers of odious savours sweet_
_Thisbe, the flowers of bad smells are sweet_
_Thisbe, these flowers smell really bad_
flowers smell bad
Odours, odours.
Odors, odors.
Odors—the word is odors.
odors
_. . . odours savours sweet.
So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisbe dear.
But hark, a voice! Stay thou but here awhile,
And by and by I will to thee appear._
... odors, sweet smells. So is your breath, my dearest Thisbe. But wait, I hear a voice! Stay here for a moment, and I'll come back to you soon.
... sweet smells. Your breath smells sweet like that too, my dear Thisbe. But wait—I hear something. Just stay here and I'll be back.
odors sweet your breath sweet i hear a voice wait here
When Bottom acquires the donkey's head, the obvious reading is that he has been made literally into an ass — his foolishness externalized. But the play complicates this. Bottom is not made more foolish by the transformation; he is, if anything, calmer and more philosophically clear-headed than anyone else in the forest. He makes good conversation with fairies. He asks for oats and hay with practical wisdom. He notes correctly that reason and love don't mix. He treats his attendants with courtesy. The donkey's head is not a judgment on Bottom's intelligence — it is a cosmic joke at the expense of perception itself. Titania loves him not despite the donkey's head but without registering the donkey's head. Her enchanted eyes see through it to something real. And what they see — warmth, cheerfulness, genuine friendliness, unflappable contentment — is actually there. The play uses Bottom's transformation to ask: what is it we actually love, when we love someone?
A stranger Pyramus than e’er played here!
A stranger Pyramus than has ever acted here!
Never seen a Pyramus like that before!
what a pyramus
Must I speak now?
Do I speak now?
Am I supposed to go?
my turn?
Ay, marry, must you, For you must understand he goes but to see a noise
that he heard, and is to come again.
Yes, of course—because he's leaving to go hear that sound and will come back.
Yeah, he's gonna check out that noise and come back, so you're next.
yes he's leaving comes back later
_Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue,
Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier,
Most brisky juvenal, and eke most lovely Jew,
As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire,
I’ll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny’s tomb._
_Most bright Pyramus, most pale white in color, with red like a rose on a beautiful branch, most lively young man, and also lovely, true as the truest horse that never tires, I'll meet you, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb._
_Most shining Pyramus, white as milk, red as a rose on a thorny branch, such a lively young guy, and so nice, true as a horse that never gets tired, I'll meet you at Ninny's tomb._
most bright pyramus white as milk red rose true horse ninny's tomb
Ninus’ tomb, man! Why, you must not speak that yet. That you answer to
Pyramus. You speak all your part at once, cues, and all.—Pyramus enter!
Your cue is past; it is ‘never tire.’
Ninus' tomb, not Ninny's! And you're not supposed to speak now—he hasn't given you your cue yet. You said your whole part all at once. Pyramus, enter! Your cue was 'never tire.'
It's Ninus' tomb, not Ninny's! And don't say all your lines at once. Wait for your cue. Pyramus, come on! Your line was 'never tire.'
ninus not ninny wait for your cue don't say it all pyramus enter now
O, _As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire._
Oh, _as the truest horse, that yet would never tire._
Oh, _true as a horse that never gets tired._
true horse never tires
_If I were fair, Thisbe, I were only thine._
_If I were beautiful, Thisbe, I would be only yours._
_If I were good-looking, Thisbe, you'd be my only one._
if i were pretty you'd be mine
O monstrous! O strange! We are haunted. Pray, masters, fly, masters!
Help!
Oh, this is monstrous! Oh, how strange! We're haunted. Please, everyone, run! Run away! Help!
Oh no! That's insane! We're being haunted! Run! Everyone get out of here!
that's not normal we're haunted run help
I’ll follow you. I’ll lead you about a round,
Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier;
Sometime a horse I’ll be, sometime a hound,
A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire;
And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn,
Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn.
I'll follow you and lead you around in circles through bog, through bush, through bramble, through thorns. Sometimes I'll be a horse, sometimes a dog, a pig, a headless bear, sometimes fire. And I'll neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn, like all those creatures, at every turn.
I'll chase you! I'll lead you around in circles through mud, bushes, thorns, everything. One second I'm a horse, next second a dog, then a pig, a bear with no head, then fire. Neigh, bark, grunt, roar, burn—whatever animal fits.
i'll chase you round and round bog bush bramble i'll be horse dog pig headless bear fire neigh bark grunt roar burn
Why do they run away? This is a knavery of them to make me afeard.
Why are they running away? This is their trick to scare me.
Why'd they run? They're trying to mess with me.
why'd they bail trying to scare me
What do you see? You see an ass-head of your own, do you?
What do you see? You see a donkey head of your own, do you?
What are you looking at? You see your own ass, or something?
what you looking at you see your own ass
Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! Thou art translated.
Bless you, Bottom! God bless you! You've been transformed.
Oh my god, Bottom! You've... you've changed. You're transformed.
bottom you're transformed what happened
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.
I understand their trick. They're trying to make a fool of me, to scare me if they could. But I won't move from this spot, no matter what they do. I'll walk around here and sing, so they can hear that I'm not afraid.
I know what they're doing—trying to make me look like an idiot, trying to freak me out. But I'm not moving. I'm gonna stay right here and sing so they know I'm not scared.
i know their game trying to scare me i'm not moving i'll sing so they know i'm brave
The mechanicals' rehearsal scene is Shakespeare's most direct engagement with the nature of theatrical representation. Their debates — how to bring moonlight into a hall, how to signify a wall, how to prevent the lion from frightening the ladies — are not just comic bumbling. They are asking genuine questions about how theater works. Bottom's instinct to break the fourth wall (have Pyramus announce that he's not Pyramus but Bottom the weaver) anticipates the theatrical theory of Bertolt Brecht by three hundred years. Quince's staging of the play-within-the-play mirrors the way A Midsummer Night's Dream itself works: both rely on audiences willing to accept that a clearing is a stage, that a man is a fairy, that stage conventions represent reality. When the mechanicals fail theatrically in Act 5, they expose the conventions by not following them — which only works because we have already agreed to follow them ourselves.
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?
The finch, the sparrow, and the lark, the simple cuckoo in gray, whose song many men know and don't dare say no to. For who would match his wit against such a foolish bird? Who would tell a bird it's lying when it keeps saying 'cuckoo'?
The finch, the sparrow and the lark, the gray cuckoo with its simple song that everybody knows but nobody dares argue with. Who's gonna tell a cuckoo bird it's wrong? Who's that brave?
finch sparrow lark gray cuckoo sings plain everyone knows it no one argues
I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again.
Mine ear is much enamour’d of thy note.
So is mine eye enthrallèd to thy shape;
And thy fair virtue’s force perforce doth move me,
On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee.
Please, kind mortal, sing again. My ear is very much in love with your voice. My eye is equally caught by your shape. And your good qualities move me by force—at first sight, to say it, to swear it—I love you.
Please, sing again, sweet human. I can't stop listening to your voice. And your looks—I'm trapped by them. Your goodness pulls me—I have to tell you, I swear—I love you.
sing again please your voice i can't look away you're good i love you i swear
Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that. And yet, to
say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays.
The more the pity that some honest neighbours will not make them
friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion.
I think, mistress, you shouldn't have much reason for that. And yet, to be truthful, reason and love aren't close companions these days. It's a shame that some honest people won't make them friends. By the way, I can spit a little too.
I mean, lady, you don't really have a good reason for that. But honestly, reason and love don't hang out together anymore anyway. Be a shame if they were friends, but they're not. Oh, and I can also spit a little.
you don't know me but yeah reason and love don't go together anyway i can spit too
Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.
You're as wise as you are beautiful.
You're as smart as you are handsome.
you're wise and beautiful
Not so, neither; but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I
have enough to serve mine own turn.
Not really—but if I had the wit to get out of this woods, I'd have enough to take care of myself.
Not really—but if I had enough brains to get out of this forest, I'd be doing okay.
not wise just need to get out of this woods
Out of this wood do not desire to go.
Thou shalt remain here whether thou wilt or no.
I am a spirit of no common rate.
The summer still doth tend upon my state;
And I do love thee: therefore, go with me.
I’ll give thee fairies to attend on thee;
And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep,
And sing, while thou on pressèd flowers dost sleep.
And I will purge thy mortal grossness so
That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.—
Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed!
Don't desire to leave this wood. You're going to stay here whether you want to or not. I'm a spirit of unusual power. Summer still waits on my command, and I love you, so come with me. I'll give you fairies to wait on you and bring you jewels from the ocean, and they'll sing while you sleep on pressed flowers. And I'll make you so light and spiritual that you'll move like an airy spirit. Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! Mustardseed!
Don't even think about leaving this forest. You're staying here, like it or not. I'm not just any spirit—I'm powerful. The whole summer answers to me, and I love you, so you're coming with me. I'll give you fairies to serve you, and they'll bring you jewels from deep underwater and sing while you sleep on flowers. I'll make you so light you'll move like a ghost. Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! Mustardseed!
don't leave you're staying i'm powerful summer's mine i love you come with me fairies will serve you jewels from ocean singing flowers to sleep on
Ready.
Ready.
Ready.
ready
And I.
And I.
Here.
here
And I.
And I.
Yes.
yes
And I.
And I.
Present.
present
Where shall we go?
Where should we go?
Where are we going?
where to
Be kind and courteous to this gentleman;
Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes;
Feed him with apricocks and dewberries,
With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries;
The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees,
And for night-tapers, crop their waxen thighs,
And light them at the fiery glow-worm’s eyes,
To have my love to bed and to arise;
And pluck the wings from painted butterflies,
To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.
Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.
Be kind and courteous to this gentleman. Dance in his sight and play before his eyes. Feed him with apricots and blackberries, purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries. Steal honey from the bumblebees' sacs, and for night lights, crop their waxy thighs and light them from the firefly's glow to light my love to bed and wake him. And pluck wings from painted butterflies to fan away the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes. Nod to him, elves, and be courteous to him.
Be nice and polite to this man. Dance where he can see you, play in front of him. Give him apricots and berries, purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries. Steal honey from bees for him, and for lamps at night, take the wax from their legs and light it with firefly glow so he can go to bed and wake up. Pull wings off butterflies to fan the moonlight away from his eyes while he sleeps. Bow to him, you guys, and be respectful.
be nice to him dance for him feed him fruit honey from bees wax for lamps firefly light butterfly wings fan his eyes bow to him
Hail, mortal!
Hello, mortal!
Hello, man!
hail mortal
Hail!
Hello!
Hey!
hail
Hail!
Hello!
Hey!
hail
Hail!
Hello!
Hello!
hail
I cry your worships mercy, heartily.—I beseech your worship’s name.
I beg your mercy, I'm very grateful. I ask your worships—what is your name?
Thank you, I appreciate it. Hey, what's your name, your worship?
thanks what's your name
Cobweb.
Cobweb.
Cobweb.
cobweb
I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb. If I cut
my finger, I shall make bold with you.—Your name, honest gentleman?
I'd like to get to know you better, good Master Cobweb. If I cut my finger, I'll definitely use you. Your name, honest gentleman?
Nice to meet you, Master Cobweb. If I get a cut, I'm coming to you. What about you—what's your name?
nice to meet you if i cut myself i'll use you what's your name
Peaseblossom.
Peaseblossom.
Peaseblossom.
peaseblossom
I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and to Master
Peascod, your father. Good Master Peaseblossom, I shall desire you of
more acquaintance too.—Your name, I beseech you, sir?
I ask you to give my regards to your mother, Squash, and to your father, Master Peascod. Good Master Peaseblossom, I'd like to get to know you better too. Your name, I beg you, sir?
Tell your mom Squash and your dad Peascod I said hi. Good Master Peaseblossom, let's be friends too. And you—what's your name?
hi to your mom squash and dad peascod let's be friends your name
Mustardseed.
Mustardseed.
Mustardseed.
mustardseed
Good Master 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 hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you
of more acquaintance, good Master Mustardseed.
Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well. That same cowardly giant-like ox-beef has eaten many a gentleman from your family. I promise you, your relatives have made me cry before. I'd like to get to know you better, good Master Mustardseed.
Master Mustardseed, I know what you deal with. That ox-beef—the giant cowardly kind—has eaten plenty of your family. Your relatives have made me tear up. Let's be friends, Master Mustardseed.
master mustardseed i know your pain ox-beef eats your family they made me cry let's be friends
Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower.
The moon, methinks, looks with a watery eye,
And when she weeps, weeps every little flower,
Lamenting some enforced chastity.
Tie up my love’s tongue, bring him silently.
Come, wait on him and lead him to my bower. The moon, I think, looks with a tearful eye, and when she weeps, every flower weeps too, mourning some forced loss of virginity. Silence his tongue, bring him to me without speaking.
Come on, serve him and take him to my place. The moon looks sad to me, and when she cries, all the flowers cry too, sad about something lost. Keep him quiet and bring him to me.
come serve him take him to my bower moon's crying flowers crying keep him quiet bring him to me
The Reckoning
The scene everyone remembers. The mechanicals' practical concerns about theatrical representation are genuinely funny — and also raise real questions about how theater works. Can you bring a lion into a throne room? Can you fit moonlight into a stage? Bottom's proposed solutions (have the actor announce he's not really a lion; carry a lantern for the moon; have a man stand with his hands as a wall) are ridiculous and also, theatrically, how it's actually done. Then Puck transforms him, and Shakespeare gives us one of his most famous comic images: the most confident man in the play, with the head of a donkey, singing cheerfully to prove he's not afraid. And then Titania — the most beautiful and proud character in the play — wakes and declares passionate love for this creature. The match is not wrong in the way it seems: there is something genuinely warm and grounded about Bottom that even enchantment can detect.
If this happened today…
A community theater group is rehearsing a show in a park at night. They're debating whether the lion costume will scare the audience and how to represent the moon onstage. Their star actor wanders off — and when he comes back, he's somehow wearing a realistic donkey head that he doesn't know about. His castmates run screaming. He sings to himself to stay calm. The most powerful and elegant woman in the county wakes up from a nap nearby, sees him, and declares she's desperately in love with him.