Titania awakes! to the voice of an (asinine) angel! (3.1.121-132) #MoonMad #SlowShakespeare

BOTTOM        The ousel cock so black of hue With orange-tawny bill, The throstle with his note so true, The wren with little quill. TITANIA         [Wakes.] What angel wakes me from my flowery bed? BOTTOM        The finch, the sparrow and the lark, The plainsong cuckoo gray, Whose note full many a man doth mark, And dares not answer nay. For indeed, who would set his wit to […]

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ENTER BOTTOM WITH AN ASS’S HEAD! (3.1.99-107) #MoonMad #SlowShakespeare

Enter BOTTOM with an ass’s head, PUCK following. BOTTOM        If I were, fair Thisbe, I were only thine. QUINCE          O monstrous! O strange! We are haunted. Pray, masters; fly, masters. Help! [Exeunt all except PUCK and BOTTOM.] PUCK  I’ll follow you; I’ll lead you about a round, Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier. Sometime a horse I’ll be, sometime a hound, A […]

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Flute/Thisbe: Iwillspeakmyspeechtrippinglyonthetongue; Quince: *facepalm* (3.1.88-98) #MoonMad #SlowShakespeare

FLUTE Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier, Most brisky juvenal, and eke most lovely jew, As true as truest horse that yet would never tire, I’ll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny’s tomb. QUINCE          Ninus’ tomb, man. Why, you must not speak that yet. That you answer to Pyramus. You speak all your part […]

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Pyramus: your breath smells nice! [Exit] Thisbe: is it my turn? Quince: YES! GO! (3.1.76-87) #MoonMad #SlowShakespeare

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, […]

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Quince: on with the rehearsal! Puck: what’s this then? ooooo I love a play! (3.1.67-75) #MoonMad #SlowShakespeare

QUINCE          If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down every mother’s son, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin. When you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake; and so every one according to his cue. PUCK  [aside] What hempen homespuns have we swaggering here, So near the cradle of the Fairy Queen? What, a play toward? I’ll […]

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