PEASEBLOSSOM        Hail, mortal.

COBWEB                                Hail.

MOTH                                                 Hail.

MUSTARDSEED                                             Hail.

BOTTOM        I cry your worships mercy, heartily. I beseech your worship’s name.

COBWEB        Cobweb.

BOTTOM        I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb. If I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you. Your name, honest gentleman?

PEASEBLOSSOM        Peaseblossom.

BOTTOM        I pray you commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and to Master Peascod, your father. Good Master Peaseblossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too. (3.1.169-180)

Again, this little sequence is very carefully written for child actors, who just have to say single words in sequence and then give their names when asked. Peaseblossom (whom I’m positing was played by one of the boys, not a child) starts them off: Hail, mortal! And then the others pipe up in turn: hail! hail! hail! It’s nicely archaic, respectful, courteous indeed (and an echo of the schoolroom, or the Bible, translating ave! or salve!). Bottom is sensible of the register in which he’s being addressed, and responds in kind: I cry your worships mercy, heartily; he’s being very polite, if not entirely coherent. Thank you, kind fairies, thank you. I beseech your worship’s name: and who are you, Mr Fairy sir? Cobweb!That is my name! (And it can be delivered in any tone, shouted, whispered, even necessitating a prod and squeaked.) I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb; I look forward to getting to know you better, replies Bottom, exactly as one would, encouraging a solemn child, taking them seriously. Then he tries a small joke: If I cut my finger I shall make bold with you. (Cobwebs were sometimes used as sticking plasters, or to stop the bleeding from small wounds.) And your name, honest gentleman? Who are you? PEASEBLOSSOM! Another little joke, but with equal courteous solemnity: I pray you commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and to Master Peascod, your father. Please say hello to your parents for me, the peas as they hang on the vine. (And there’s a contrast here between the homely, familiar peas, at all stages of their lifecycle, flower, unripe, and ripe, and the apricots, figs, grapes, and mulberries that Titania has just invoked: these are still, it seems, English fairies.) Good Master Peaseblossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too. I look forward to getting to know you better also!