“A lover that kills himself most gallantly for love,” answered Quince.
“That will ask some tears in the true performing of it,” said Bottom, swelling with self-importance. “If I do it, let the audience look to their eyes.”
The next character was Thisby, the heroine, and this was given to Flute, the bellows-mender, a thin, lanky youth with a squeaky voice.
“Nay, faith, let me not play a woman; I have a beard coming,” he said piteously.
“That’s all one; you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will,” said Quince.
“If I hide my face, let me play Thisby, too,” cried Bottom eagerly. “I’ll speak in a monstrous little voice. ‘Thisne, Thisne!’ ‘Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear! Thy Thisby dear, and lady dear!’”
“No, no! you must play Pyramus, and, Flute, you Thisby,” said Quince.
“Well, proceed,” said Bottom.
Quince went on with his list, and presently he called out the name of Snug, the joiner.
“You will play the lion’s part, Snug,” he said; “and now, I hope, there is the play fitted.”