BOTTOM Masters, I am to discourse wonders; but ask me not what. For if I tell you, I am not true Athenian. I will tell you everything right as it fell out.
QUINCE Let us hear, sweet Bottom.
BOTTOM Not a word of me. All that I will tell you is that the duke hath dined. Get your apparel together: good strings to your beards, new ribands to your pumps. Meet presently at the palace, every man look o’er his part; for the short and the long is, our play is preferred. In any case let Thisbe have clean linen; and let not him that plays the Lion pare his nails, for they shall hang out for the Lion’s claws. And most dear actors, eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not doubt but to hear them say, it is a sweet comedy. No more words. Away, go away. (Exeunt.) (4.2.28-43)
Masters, I am to discourse wonders, promises Bottom, you’re not going to BELIEVE what I have to tell you—but ask me not what. Not yet. For if I tell you, I am not true Athenian. If I told you, I’d have to kill you—but what kind of a mate do you take me for? I will tell you everything right as it fell out. I will. I will. Just not now. It doesn’t matter that Bottom’s contradicting himself, all that matters is that he’s back! (And he’s not sure what just happened either.) Let us hear, sweet Bottom! Quince is keen to know, obviously, but Bottom is adamant: not a word of me. But—all casual, like—all that I will tell you is that the duke hath dined. The wedding reception’s through to its next stage! Get your apparel together, all your costumes, bits and pieces, yessssss! Good strings to your beards (Bottom is the one obsessed with beards… it’s difficult to imagine who else might need a false beard, but they are strongly associated with acting in general, and perhaps there’s an in-joke, about beards falling off mid performance.) And new ribands to your pumps: put on your dancing shoes, and make sure that your shoe-ties are in good shape (ribands here might, just, be decorative rather than functional; because shoes were at roughly eye-height on the stage for those in the yard, highly decorated shoes seem to have been a bit of a thing).
Meet presently at the palace—we need to get there asap!—every man look o’er his part—run your lines, lads!—for the short and the long is, our play is preferred! We’ve made the shortlist! YESSSSS! (Bottom seems to think that they’re definitely on; this isn’t quite the case, but it doesn’t matter.) In any case, let Thisbe have clean linen—a nice clean smock, and the rest—and let not him that plays the Lion pare his nails, for they shall hang out for the Lion’s claws. No manicure for Snug; this is mostly a reminder of the comedy around the play’s realism: will the ladies be afeard of the lion and the killing? He’s got to be just realistic enough, it seems. And most dear actors, eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not doubt but to hear them say, it is a sweet comedy. Watch yourselves! (Flute and Snug hadn’t even imagined that this might be a concern; another thing to worry about!) No more words. Away, go away: we’re ON! let’s GO!
