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We are now in another part of Athens, in the house of Quince, a carpenter. He and his comrades--Snug, a joiner; Bottom, a weaver; Flute, a bellows mender; Snout, a tinker; and Starveling, a tailor--have gathered together to choose the parts in a play they\'ll be performing for the duke\'s wedding. They\'re a group of simple working people, not professional actors, and they\'re also a far cry from any traditional image of noble Athenian youth.
NOTE: Unlike the lovers, the rustics speak in prose, which is appropriate to their more mundane station in life. But like the lovers, the way they speak tells us a lot about who they are. They\'re not particularly literate people, so dramatic dialogue isn\'t very comfortable for them. Watch the way they try to impress or outdo each other, particularly Bottom, who feels he can undertake any part.
Quince asks if all the company is assembled to rehearse. Bottom says it would be better to call all the names individually, but he uses the word \"generally\" instead. This is one of Bottom\'s characteristic traits. He has more enthusiasm than knowledge and is a true ham. He loves to use big words even if he doesn\'t really understand them. He is infatuated with the sound and the flourish of them. But he approaches language with such relish and gusto that it\'s hard to fault him. He may not always be correct, but his heart is in the right place. Shakespeare knows enough about language to show us that a word\'s sound can often override its sense. Even when Bottom\'s wrong, he often sounds right to us (as he does to himself), so Shakespeare\'s joke is on us as well as on Bottom. Did you ever try to impress anyone by trying to use a larger word than you could handle? If you got away with it, were you or your listener the greater fool?
Bottom also recommends that Quince tell the name of the play first, and so we discover the piece to be presented is \"The most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.\" Its very title gives you a good indication of its contradictory nature: \"lamentable\" but a \"comedy.\" It might also indicate to you how little these actors really know about the theater. Obviously, this is going to be a chance for Shakespeare--a trained actor as well as playwright--to give us some inside jokes.
NOTE: The story of Pyramus and Thisby is not Shakespeare\'s invention; it was a stock Elizabethan plot. But notice how cleverly it fits into A Midsummer Night\'s Dream. The play within the play concerns two lovers frustrated by their parents\' interference. We have just seen a similar situation with Hermia, Lysander, and Egeus. Shakespeare will make great comic use of this traditional story line to comment on the actions of his own characters.
Bottom is the first up. When told that his part is to be Pyramus, Bottom wants to know if Pyramus is a lover or a tyrant. His appetite is large, and he is ready to bite into a big part and give it his full dramatic powers. The part, explains Quince, is that of a \"lover that kills himself, most gallant, for love.\" Quince recognizes Bottom\'s need for the large gesture. He adds the words \"most gallant\" like food for Bottom\'s appetite.
Bottom understands the depths of the dramatic task at hand and immediately begins pumping himself up for it. He sees that such a tragic figure will require great poignancy in order both to shed tears (as Pyramus) and to bring the audience to compassionate tears of their own. \"I will move storms,\" he assures his fellows. However, he adds, he could well play a tyrant if asked to do so--and then to prove it, he does so. Bottom is a one-man band. Though some readers have felt he is at times egotistical or overbearing, others note his eagerness to grab onto life and play it to the hilt. Certainly, Bottom doesn\'t let much pass him by. If he won\'t be able to play a tyrant in \"Pyramus and Thisby,\" he\'ll play it right now for us. He digs into his speech with total energy. The too-obvious alliteration (\"raging rocks,\" \"shivering shocks\") and high-blown poetic rhetoric don\'t matter. Their overly conscious style may be appropriate for a tyrant anyway. What does matter is Bottom\'s enthusiasm. He puts on these parts and takes them of with utter relish. He really enjoys being the center of attention. And he is thoroughly pleased with his own powers. After his speech--almost like coming out of a trance--he admits, \"This was lofty!\"
Next up is Francis Flute. His part is to be Thisby. Flute wonders naively--hopefully--if that\'s the part of a wandering knight. No such luck; Thisby is Pyramus\'s lady love. Flute protests: Can\'t he play someone else? He has a beard coming. (Mind you it\'s not here, but it\'s coming.) But that\'s his assigned part, and Quince assures him he can play it behind a mask, speaking \"small\" (softly).
NOTE: Did you know that all female roles in Elizabethan theater were played by boys or young men? Women were not allowed on the stage. The profession of acting was still seen as a socially inferior--if not immoral--occupation. Since that was the law, men performing as women was socially accepted at the time. However, Flute is disturbed at being assigned Thisby\'s role because he wants to imagine himself a man rather than a boy (not because he\'s worried about playing a woman), though we can certainly guess a good deal of jesting took place in Shakespeare\'s time around the issue.
If Flute is reluctant to play the part, someone else is always ready. That someone, of course, is Bottom, always within dramatic arm\'s reach. He offers to play the role, speaking in a \"monstrous little voice.\" As is often the case, Bottom combines inappropriate words (\"monstrous\" and \"little\") to convey his meaning, but the ingenuity and verve of this man, who can quickly swoop from raging tyrant to sweet Thisby is amazing.
Quince, a resourceful and commanding fellow, has things well in hand. Bottom must play Pyramus; Flute, Thisby; Starveling, Thisby\'s mother; Snout, Pyramus\'s father; and Quince himself, Thisby\'s father. (These parts mysteriously disappear in the final version of the play as it is performed. The players may have discovered that their talents or energy were more limited than at first surmised.) In addition, Snug will play the lion\'s part. Snug is a little worried. He asks Quince if the lion\'s part is already written so that he may study it now--he\'s a bit slow at learning. Quince explains handily that Snug can do the part extemporaneously, for it is \"nothing but roaring.\"
Sensing an opening in Snug\'s reluctance, Bottom makes his move. He\'s ready to play the lion, and if given the opportunity he will really roar. Quince warns that too realistic roaring would frighten the court ladies, and then they\'d all be in trouble. Bottom accommodates; in that case he will roar as gently as a dove or a nightingale. Does that make sense? It doesn\'t matter. His unquenchable zest is what matters to Bottom.
Quince holds to his position. Bottom must play only Pyramus. But Quince, as director, is no fool. He knows how to butter up his temperamental crew. He flatters Bottom by explaining how appropriate the part is for him--\"sweet-faced,\" \"proper,\" and \"gentlemanlike.\" Bottom is caught but not stopped. He wants to know what kind of beard he should wear and shows off his masterly weaver\'s knowledge of color by offering an inventory of possible beards.
Quince gives his final orders: they will meet the next night in the palace wood about a mile outside of town by--of course--\"moonlight.\" Quince will draw up a list of the stage properties needed. Bottom gets in a last lick. He repeats the pledge to meet, adding the comment that they will be able to rehearse \"most obscenely and courageously.\" He\'s used the wrong words again, loving the pure sound of his speech.
As he departs, he adds the line \"hold or cut bowstrings.\" This odd phrase has confused many readers. It\'s not entirely clear what the expression means, though it seems to be akin to our American \"fish or cut bait.\" Even more likely, he has just garbled some Elizabethan colloquial phrase.
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