d talk
through the chink of a wall.

Snug. You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom?

Bot. Some man or other must present wall; and let him have some
plaster, or some loome, or some rough-cast, about him, to signify
wall: Or let him hold his fingers thus, and through the cranny shall
Pyramus and Thisby whisper.

Quin. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down every
mother's son, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin; and when
you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake, and so every one
according to his cue.

Enter Puck.

Puck. What hempen homespuns have we swaggering
here, so near the cradle of the Fairy Queen?
What, a play tow'rd; I'll be an auditor;
An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause.

Quin. Speak, Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth.

Pyr. Thisby, the flower of odious savours sweet.

Quin. Odours, odours.

Pyr. Odours savours sweet;
So doth thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear:
But hark, a voice! Stay thou but here a while,
And by-and-by I will to thee appear,

Puck. A stranger Pyramus than e'er play'd here!
[Aside.
Now for a storm to drive these patches hence.
[He waves his wand.] Thunder and Lightning.

Quin. O monstrous! O strange! We are haunted:
Pray masters, fly masters, help!

[Exeunt Clowns.

Puck. I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round,
Thro' bog, thro' bush, thro' brake, thro' briar;
Sometimes a horse I'll be, sometimes a hound,
A hog, a headless bear, sometimes a fire,
And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn,
Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn.

[Exit.

Enter Bottom.

Bot. Why do they let a little thunder frighten them away? 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.

[Sings.

AIR.

The ousel-cock, so black of hue,
With orange-tawny bill,
The throstle, with his note so true,
The wren with little quill.

Queen. What angel wakes me from my flow'ry bed?

Bot. (Sings.) The finch, the sparrow, and the lark,
The plain-song cuckow grey,
Whose note full many a man doth mark,
And dares not answer nay.

Queen. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again,
Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note;
So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape,
On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee.

Bot. Methinks, mistress, you should have little rea