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Snout. Here, Peter Quince.

Quin. You, Pyramus’ father; myself, Thisby’s father; Snug the joiner, you the lion’s part. And I hope here is a play fitted.

Snug. Have you the lion’s part written? Pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study.

Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.

Bot. Let me play the lion too. I will roar, that I will do any man’s heart good to hear me. I will roar, that I will make the Duke say, “Let him roar again; let him roar again.”

Quin. And you should do it too terribly, you would fright the Duchess and the ladies, that they would shrike; and that were enough to hang us all.

All. That would hang us, every mother’s son.

Bot. I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us; but I will aggravate my voice so that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you and ’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.