BOTTOM Wilt thou at Ninny’s tomb meet me straightway?
FLUTE Tide life, tide death, I come without delay.
SNOUT Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so;
And being done, thus Wall away doth go.
[Exeunt Wall, Pyramus and Thisbe.]
THESEUS Now is the more use between the two neighbours.
DEMETRIUS No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful, to hear without warning.
HIPPOLYTA This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.
THESEUS The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.
HIPPOLYTA It must be your imagination, then, and not theirs.
THESEUS If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts, in a man and a lion. (5.1.201-216)
A rendezvous is arranged! Wilt thou at Ninny’s tomb meet me straightway? NINUS, can sometimes be heard offstage, a wailing wince of frustration from Quince who by now can’t even. But it doesn’t matter, Thisbe answers right on cue: tide life, tide death, I come without delay. Nothing will prevent me, not even death! I’ll be there! (Logic is questionable, commitment is impressive.) Snout is DONE, just a final couplet before he can retire with dignity: thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so; and being done, thus Wall away doth go. I’m out of here. A walking wall. Yeah, it was ALWAYS a STUPID idea, but what was I meant to do with this material?
Now is the more use between the two neighbours, observes Theseus, more use a Notorious Textual Crux (Moon vsed in Q, morall downe in F), but I quite like the suggestion that Theseus is observing, as one would, oh, that’s handy, no wall means they can pop in and out whenever they want. Demetrius spots an opportunity for a Witticism: no remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful, to hear without warning. Can’t be helped, can it, when the wall is so obliging: it’s heard everything and it hasn’t said a word! But it’s Hippolyta’s outburst which is more generative: this is the silliest stuff that ever I heard! It can be frustrated, incredulous—THIS is our wedding night entertainment??—or perhaps indulgent, I mean, it’s dreadful, but they’re trying so hard and they’re really sweet? Theseus is suddenly quite philosophical: the best in this kind—actors, plays, even the really good ones—are but shadows. They’re all just reflections, imitations, not the real thing, and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them. The most skilled actors can only do so much, and the terrible ones, well, they can’t do much at all—the rest is up to us, to fill in the gaps with our own imaginations. Hippolyta isn’t convinced, oh, so this is our—your—fault then? it must be your imagination, then, and not theirs, because I’m really not feeling it. Imagine harder, is that it? Imagine better? Well, yes. And Theseus points out that if we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves—if we respond to what they think they’re doing, what they meant to be doing, their CONCEPT (idea or fore-conceit…) they may pass for excellent men. (There’s a little anticipation of Hamlet’s admonition of Polonius here: treat the actors well, try to see what they’re doing, the bigger picture, even if the execution falls short.) But also: they think they’re brilliant, let’s humour them by imagining that they really are.
On with the show, though: here come two noble beasts, in a man and a lion. It’s worked! The lion is quite clearly Not A Lion, he is a man as well. It’s SNUG!
