Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then
read the names of the actors; and so grow on to a point.

Quin. Marry, our play is the most lamentable comedy, and most cruel
death of Pyramus and Thisby.

Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry. Now, good
Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scrowl. Masters, spread
yourselves.

Quin. Answer as I call you. Nick Bottom the weaver!

Bot. Ready: Name what part I am for, and proceed.

Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus.

Bot. What is Pyramus, a lover, or a tyrant?

Quin. A lover that kills himself most gallantly for love.

Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it: If I
do it let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms; I will
condole in some measure. To the rest; yet, my chief humour is for a
tyrant; I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in. "To
make all split the raging rocks and shivering shocks shall break the
locks of prison-gates, and Phibbus carr shall shine from far, and make
and mar the foolish fates!" This was lofty. Now name the rest of
the players. This is Ercles vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is more
condoling.