ou an 'twere any nightingale.

Quin. 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.

Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play it
in?

Quin. Why what you will.

Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw-colour'd beard,
your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your
French-crown-colour'd beard, your perfect yellow.

Quin. 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
intreat 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 we will rehearse; for if we meet in the city, we
shall be dog'd with company, and our devices known. In the mean time
I will draw a bill of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you
fail me not.

Bot. We will meet, and there we may rehearse more obscenely and
courageously. Take pains, be perfect, adieu.

Quin. At the Duke's oak we meet.

Bot. But hold ye, hold ye, neighbours; are your voices in order, and
your tunes ready? For if we miss our musical pitch, we shall be all
'sham'd and abandon'd.

Quin. Ay, ay! Nothing goes down so well as a little of your sol,
fa, and long quaver; therefore let us be in our airs--and for better
assurance I have got the pitch pipe.

Bot. Stand round, stand round! We'll rehearse our eplog--Clear up
your pipes, and every man in his turn take up his stanza-verse--Are
you all ready?

All. Ay, ay!--Sound the pitch-pipe, Peter Quince.

[Quince blows.

Bot. Now make your reverency and begin.

SONG--for Epilogue;

By Quince, Bottom, Snug, Flute, Starveling, Snout.

Quin. Most noble Duke, to us be kind;
Be you and all your courtiers blind,
That you may not our errors find,
But smile upon our sport.
For we are simple actors all,
Some fat, some lean, some short, some tall;
Our pride is great, our merit small;
Will that, pray, do at court?

II.

Starv. O would the Duke and Dutchess smile,
The court would do the same awhile,
But call us after, low and vile,
And that way make their sport:
Nay, would you still more pastime make,
And at poor we your purses shake,
Whate'er you give, we'll gladly take,