QUINCE Speak, Pyramus. Thisbe, stand forth.
BOTTOM Thisbe, the flowers of odious savours sweet.
QUINCE Odours, odours.
BOTTOM … odours savours sweet.
So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisbe dear.
But hark, a voice. Stay thou but here a while,
And by and by I will to thee appear. (Exit.)
PUCK [aside] A stranger Pyramus than ere played here. [Exit.]
FLUTE Must I speak now?
QUINCE Ay, marry, must you. For you must understand he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again. (3.1.76-87)
This is it, this is it Peter Quince! Speak, Pyramus. Thisbe, stand forth. Ready! Aaaannnnd: go! (Quince can mouth along with his lines, he doesn’t need the script, he knows and feels every word.) Thisbe, the flowers of odious savours sweet—it doesn’t make sense, really, the verb is so delayed—but it’s the mispronunciation that Quince hears—odours, odours—odours savours sweet, repeats Bottom, as perhaps it begins to dawn on Quince that this is what it’s going to be like… So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisbe dear. SUCH an odd opening for a play, not so much in medias res as in medias os*, never mind a strange remark to a beloved, gosh your breath smells nice? like flowers! No time for more such sweet nothings, though: but hark, a voice. (Does Quince, mouthing, do a hand-behind-ear gesture, mirrored by Bottom?) Stay thou but here a while, and by and by I will to thee appear. Just wait here a minute and I’ll be right back! Puck’s seen enough, or else enough to have worked out what he’s going to do next, and neatly completes the couplet: a stranger Pyramus than ere played here. I’ve never seen it done like that before! (And ‘Pyramus’, you’re about to get much, much stranger…)
Flute’s desperately nervous, or else mutinous: must I speak now? is it my turn, even though there’s no one here for me to speak to anymore, my lines that I have learned so hard? Ay, marry, must you. (Another point where Quince is confronted with his actors’ lack of sophistication and initiative.) For you must understand he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again. It’s creating suspense! Go!
*tragedies in particular traditionally begin in medias res, literally in the middle of the thing, the matter, the story rather than at the beginning; os is the Latin for mouth. It’s a very small joke. By me.
