Available for reuse, according to the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported.
[18], 303, [1], 46, 49-100, [2], 69-232, [2], 79-80, [26], 76, 79-82, 80-98, [2], 109-156, 257-993 [i.e. 399], [1] p.; fol.
Numbering peculiarities: 1st count: p.50 misnumbered 58; p.59 misnumbered 51; p.86 misnumbered 88; p.153 misnumbered 151; p.161 misnumbered] 163; p.164 misnumbered 162; p. 165 misnumbered 163; p. 189 misnumbered 187; p. 249 misnumbered 251; p.250 misnumbered 252; p. 265 misnumbered 273 -- 2nd count: p.37 misnumbered 39 in some copies; p.89 misnumbered 91; p. 90 misnumbered 92 -- 3rd count: p.165-166 numbered 167 and 168 respectively; p. 216 numbered 218 -- 5th count: p. 279 misnumbered 259; p. 282 misnumbered 280; p.308 misnumbered 38; p. 379 misnumbered 389; p. 399 misnumbered 993.
The signatures varies between sources, with the most commonly cited being Hinman's and West's: 1. Hinman: πA⁶ (πA1+1) [πB²], ²A-2B⁶ 2C² a-g⁶ χgg⁸ h-v⁶ x⁴ χ1.2 [para.]-2[para.]⁶ 3[para]¹ aa-ff⁶ gg² Gg⁶ hh⁶ kk-bbb⁶; 2. West: πA⁶ (πA1+1, πA5+1.2)²A-2B⁶ 2C² a-g⁶ ²g⁸ h-v⁶ x⁴ 'gg3.4' (±'gg3') [para.]-2[para.]⁶ 3[para]¹ 2a-2f⁶ 2g² 2G⁶ 2h⁶ 2k-2v⁶ x⁶ 2y-3b⁶.
Mis-signed leaves: a3 mis-signed Aa3; ³gg1 mis-signed Gg; nn1-nn2 mis-signed Nn and Nn2 and oo1 mis-signed Oo.
"The life and death of King Iohn" begins new pagination on leaf a1 recto; "The tragedy of Coriolanus" begins new pagination on leaf aa1 recto.
Predominantly printed in double columns.
Text within simple lined frame.
Colophon reads: "Printed at the charges of W. Iaggard, Ed. Blount, I. Smithweeke, and W. Aspley. 1623.".
Editors’ dedication signed: Iohn Heminge. Henry Condell.
Two MS verses on first endpaper verso: 1. 9 lines of verse by an unknown author, first line reads "An active swain to make a leap was seen". 2. A copy of Ben Jonson’s printed "To the Reader"; MS note on t.p. (mutilated) appears to read "Honest [Shakes]peare". Minor annotations on leaf 2n4 (Macbeth). All in an early English hand, presumably added after leaving the Library.
Seventeenth-century (1624) English (Oxford) smooth calf. Bound for the Bodleian Library by William Wildgoose, with evidence of two cloth ties, red sprinkled edge. Formerly chained, with evidence of chain staple at the head of the upper cover. Remains of paper label at the head of the spine. Enclosed in 20th century book box by Maltby of Oxford. See S. Gibson in Original Bodleian Copy of First Folio, p. 12-13. One of four items sent out on 17th February 1624 for binding by Wildgoose containing printed waste from a copy of Cicero’s "De Officiis, et al." [Deventer: Richard Pafraet, between 1480 and 1485] as paste-downs. For more information on this work see: Bod. Inc. Cat., C-322.
For further details on the printing of this item see Hinman, Charleton. The printing and proof-reading of the First Folio of Shakespeare: Oxford, 1963.
Acquired by the Bodleian in 1623, presumably in sheets. It
was sent out to
After leaving the Bodleian this copy entered
the collection of
For a full discussion of this copy and the digital version see http://shakespeare.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/ and West and Rasmussen (2011), 31.
The private URIs with the prefix 'FFimg' should be replaced with the URL pointing to the Bodleian's First Folio website.
Is all our company heere?
You were best to call them generally, man by
man, according to the scrip.
Here is the scrowle of euery mans name, which
is thought fit through all Athens, to play in our Enter
lude before the Duke and the Dutches, on his wedding
day at night.
First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats
on: then read the names of the Actors: and so grow on
to a point.
Marry our play is the most lamentable Come
dy, and most cruell death of Pyramus and Thisbie.
A very good peece of worke I assure you, and a
merry. Now good Peter Quince, call forth your Actors
by the scrowle. Masters spread your selues.
Answere as I call you. Nick Bottome the
Weauer.
Ready; name what part I am for, and
proceed.
You Nicke Bottome are set downe for Py
ramus.
What is Pyramus, a louer, or a tyrant?
A Louer that kills himselfe most gallantly for
loue.
That will aske some teares in the true perfor
ming of it: if I do it, let the audience looke to their eies:
I will mooue stormes; I will condole in some measure.
To the rest yet, my chiefe humour is for a tyrant. I could
play Ercles rarely, or a part to teare a Cat in, to make all
split the raging Rocks; and shiuering shocks shall break
the locks of prison gates, and Phibbus carre shall shine
from farre, and make and marre the foolish Fates. This
was lofty. Now name the rest of the Players. This
is Ercles vaine, a tyrants vaine: a louer is more condo
ling.
Francis Flute the Bellowes‑mender.
Heere Peter Quince.
You must take Thisbie on you.
What is Thisbie, a wandring Knight?
It is the Lady that Pyramus must loue.
Nay faith, let not mee play a woman, I haue a
beard comming.
That's all one, you shall play it in a Maske, and
you may speake as small as you will.
And I may hide my face, let me play Thisbie too:
Ile speake in a monstrous little voyce; Thisne, Thisne, ah
Pyramus my louer deare, thy Thisbie deare, and Lady
deare.
No no, you must play Pyramus, and Flute, you
Thisby.
Well, proceed.
Robin Starueling the Taylor.
Heere Peter Quince.
Robin Starueling, you must play Thisbies
mother?
Tom Snowt, the Tinker.
Heere Peter Quince.
You, Pyramus father; my self, Thisbies father;
Snugge the Ioyner, you the Lyons part: and I hope there
is a play fitted.
Haue you the Lions part written? pray you if
be, giue it me, for I am slow of studie.
You may doe it extemporie, for it is nothing
but roaring.
Let mee play the Lyon too, I will roare that I
will doe any mans heart good to heare me. I will roare,
that I will make the Duke say, Let him roare againe, let
him roare againe.
If you should doe it too terribly, you would
fright the Dutchesse and the Ladies, that they would
shrike, and that were enough to hang vs all.
That would hang vs euery mothers sonne.
I graunt you friends, if that you should
fright the Ladies out of their Wittes, they would
haue no more discretion but to hang vs: but I will ag
grauate my voyce so, that I will roare you as gently as
any sucking Doue; I will roare and 'twere any Nightin
gale.
You can play no part but Piramus, for Pira
mus is a sweet‑fac'd man, a proper man as one shall see in
a summers day; a most louely Gentleman‑like man, ther
fore you must needs play Piramus.
Well, I will vndertake it. What beard were I
best to play it in?
Why, what you will.
I will discharge it, in either your straw‑colour
beard, your orange tawnie beard, your purple in graine
beard, or your French‑crowne colour'd beard, your per
fect yellow.
Some of your French Crownes haue no haire
at all, and then you will play bare‑fac'd. But masters here
are your parts, and I am to intreat you, request you, and
desire you, to con them by too morrow night: and meet
me in the palace wood, a mile without the Towne, by
Moone‑light, there we will rehearse: for if we meete in
the Citie, we shalbe dog'd with company, and our deui
ses knowne. In the meane time, I wil draw a bil of pro
perties, such as our play wants. I pray you faile me not.
We will meete, and there we may rehearse
more obscenely and couragiously. Take paines, be per
fect, adieu.
At the Dukes oake we meete.
Enough, hold or cut bow‑strings.
Are we all met?
Pat, pat, and here's a maruailous conuenient
place for our rehearsall. This greene plot shall be our
stage, this hauthorne brake our tyring house, and we will
do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke.
Peter quince?
What saist thou, bully Bottome?
There are things in this Comedy of Piramusand
Thisby, that will neuer please. First, Piramus must draw a
sword to kill himselfe; which the Ladies cannot abide.
How answere you that?
Berlaken, a parlous feare.
I beleeue we must leaue the killing out, when
all is done.
Not a whit, I haue a deuice to make all well.
Write me a Prologue, and let the Prologue seeme to say,
we will do no harme with our swords, and that Pyramus
is not kill'd indeede: and for the more better assurance,
tell them, that I Piramus am not Piramus, but Bottome the
Weauer; this will put them out of feare.
Well, we will haue such a Prologue, and it shall
be written in eight and sixe.
No, make it two more, let it be written in eight
and eight.
Will not the Ladies be afear'd of the Lyon?
I feare it, I promise you.
Masters, you ought to consider with your selues, to
bring in (God shield vs) a Lyon among Ladies, is a most
dreadfull thing. For there is not a more fearefull wilde
foule then your Lyon liuing: and wee ought to looke
to it.
Therefore another Prologue must tell he is not
a Lyon.
Nay, you must name his name, and halfe his face
must be seene through the Lyons necke, and he himselfe
must speake through, saying thus, or to the same defect;
Ladies, or faire Ladies, I would wish you, or I would
request you, or I would entreat you, not to feare, not to
tremble: my life for yours. If you thinke I come hither
as a Lyon, it were pitty of my life. No, I am no such
thing, I am a man as other men are; and there indeed let
him name his name, and tell him plainly hee is Snug the
ioyner.
Well, it shall be so; but there is two hard
things, that is, to bring the Moone‑light into a cham
ber: for you know Piramus and Thisby meete by Moone‑
light.
Doth the Moone shine that night wee play our
play?
A Calender, a Calender, looke in the Almanack,
finde out Moone‑shine, finde out Moone‑shine.
Yes, it doth shine that night.
Why then may you leaue a casement of the great
chamber window (where we play) open, and the Moone
may shine in at the casement.
I, or else one must come in with a bush of thorns
and a lanthorne, and say he comes to disfigure, or to pre
sent the person of Moone‑shine. Then there is another
thing, we must haue a wall in the great Chamber; for Pi
ramus and
You can neuer bring in a wall. What say you
Bottome?
Some man or other must present wall, and let
him haue some Plaster, or some Lome, or some rough
cast about him, to signifie wall; or let him hold his fin
gers thus; and through that cranny, shall Piramus and
Thisby whisper.
If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit
downe euery mothers sonne, and rehearse your parts.
Piramus, you begin; when you haue spoken your speech,
enter into that Brake, and so euery one according to his
cue.
Speake Piramus: Thisby stand forth.
Odours, odours.
Must I speake now?
I marry must you. For you must vnderstand he
goes but to see a noyse that he heard, and is to come a
gaine.
Ninus toombe man: why, you must not speake
that yet; that you answere to Piramus: you speake all
your part at once, cues and all. Piramus enter, your cue is
past; it is neuer tyre.
O monstrous. O strange. We are hanted; pray
masters, flye masters, helpe.
Why do they run away? This is a knauery of
them to make me afeard.
O Bottom, thou art chang'd; What doe I see on
thee?
What do you see? You see an Asse‑head of your
owne, do you?
Blesse thee Bottome, blesse thee; thou art transla
ted.
I see their knauery; this is to make an asse of me,
to fright me if they could; but I will not stirre from
this place, do what they can. I will walke vp and downe
here, and I will sing that they shall heare I am not a
fraid.
For indeede, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird?
Who would giue a bird the lye, though he cry Cuckow,
neuer so?
Me‑thinkes mistresse, you should haue little
reason for that: and yet to say the truth, reason and
loue keepe little company together, now‑adayes.
The more the pittie, that some honest neighbours will
not make them friends. Nay, I can gleeke vpon occa
sion.
Not so neither: but if I had wit enough to get
out of this wood, I haue enough to serue mine owne
turne.
Ready; and I, and I, and I, Where shall we go?
Haile mortall, haile.
Haile.
Haile.
I cry your worships mercy hartily; I beseech
your worships name.
Cobweb.
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?
I pray you commend mee to mistresse Squash,
your mother, and to master Peascod your father. Good
master Pease‑blossome, I shal desire of you more acquain
tance to. Your name I beseech you sir?
Mustard‑seede.
Pease‑blossome.
Good master Mustard seede, I know your pati
ence well: that same cowardly gyant‑like Oxe beefe
hath deuoured many a gentleman of your house. I pro
mise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere
now. I desire you more acquaintance, good Master
Mustard‑seede.
Vp and downe, vp and downe, I will leade
them vp and downe: I am fear'd in field and towne.
Goblin, lead them vp and downe: here comes one.
Where's Pease blossome?
Ready.
Scratch my head, Pease‑blossome. Wher's Moun
sieuer Cobweb.
Ready.
Mounsieur Cobweb, good Mounsier get your
weapons in your hand, & kill me a red hipt humble‑Bee,
on the top of a thistle; and good Mounsieur bring mee
the hony bag. Doe not fret your selfe too much in the
action, Mounsieur; and good Mounsieur haue a care the
hony bag breake not, I would be loth to haue yo
flowne with a hony‑bag signiour. Where's Mounsieur
Mustardseed?
Ready.
Giue me your neafe, Mounsieur Mustardseed.
Pray you leaue your courtesie good Mounsieur.
What's your will?
Nothing good Mounsieur, but to help Caualery
Cobweb to scratch. I must to the Barbers Mounsieur, for
me‑thinkes I am maruellous hairy about the face. And I
am such a tender asse, if my haire do but tickle me, I must
scratch.
What, wilt thou heare some musicke, my sweet
loue.
I haue a reasonable good eare in musicke. Let
vs haue the tongs and the bones.
Truly a pecke of Prouender; I could munch
your good dry Oates. Me‑thinkes I haue a great desire
to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweete hay hath no fel
low.
I had rather haue a handfull or two of dried
pease. But I pray you let none of your people stirre me, I
haue an exposition of sleepe come vpon me.
When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer.
My next is, most faire Piramus. Hey ho. Peter Quince?
Flute the bellowes‑mender? Snout the tinker? Starue
ling? Gods my life! Stolne hence, and left me asleepe: I
Haue you sent to Bottomes house? Is he come
home yet?
He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt hee is
transported.
If he come not, then the play is mar'd. It goes
not forward, doth it?
It is not possible: you haue not a man in all
Athens, able to discharge Piramus but he.
No, hee hath simply the best wit of any handy
craft man in Athens.
Yea, and the best person too, and hee is a very
Paramour, for a sweet voyce.
You must say, Paragon. A Paramour is (God
blesse vs) a thing of nought.
Masters, the Duke is comming from the Tem
ple, and there is two or three Lords & Ladies more mar
ried. If our sport had gone forward, we had all bin made
men.
O sweet bully Bottome: thus hath he lost sixe
pence a day, during his life; he could not haue scaped six
pence a day. And the Duke had not giuen him sixpence
a day for playing Piramus, Ile be hang'd. He would haue
deserued it. Sixpence a day in Piramus, or nothing.
Where are these Lads? Where are these hearts?
Bottome, ô most couragious day! O most hap
pie houre!
Masters, I am to discourse wonders; but ask me
not what. For if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I
will tell you euery thing as it fell out.
Let vs heare, sweet Bottome.
Not a word of me: all that I will tell you, is, that
the Duke hath dined. Get your apparell together, good
strings to your beards, new ribbands to your pumps,
meete presently at the Palace, euery man looke ore his
part: for the short and the long is, our play is preferred:
In any case let Thisby haue cleane linnen: and let not him
that playes the Lion, paire his nailes, for they shall hang
out for the Lions clawes. And most deare Actors, eate
no Onions, nor Garlicke; for wee are to vtter sweete
breath, and I doe not doubt but to heare them say, it is a
sweet Comedy. No more words: away, go away.
Merry and tragicall? Tedious, and briefe? That
is, hot ice, and wondrous strange snow. How shall wee
finde the concord of this discord?
He hath rid his Prologue, like a rough Colt: he
knowes not the stop. A good morall my Lord. It is not
enough to speake, but to speake true.
Indeed hee hath plaid on his Prologue, like a
childe on a Recorder, a sound, but not in gouernment.
His speech was like a tangled chaine: nothing
impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?
No wonder, my Lord: one Lion may, when
many Asses doe.
Would you desire Lime and Haire to speake
better?
It is the vvittiest partition, that euer I heard
discourse, my Lord.
The vvall me‑thinkes being sensible, should
curse againe.
Now is the morall downe betweene the two
Neighbors.
No remedie my Lord, when Wals are so wil
full, to heare without vvarning.
This is the silliest stuffe that ere I heard.
The best in this kind are but shadowes, and the
worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.
It must be your imagination then, & not theirs.
If wee imagine no worse of them then they of
themselues, they may passe for excellent men. Here com
two noble beasts, in a man and a Lion.
A verie gentle beast, and of good conscience.
The verie best at a beast, my Lord, yt ere I saw.
This Lion is a verie Fox for his valor.
True, and a Goose for his discretion.
Not so my Lord: for his valor cannot carrie
his discretion, and the Fox carries the Goose.
His discretion I am sure cannot carrie his valor:
for the Goose carries not the Fox. It is well; leaue it to
his discretion, and let vs hearken to the Moone.
He should haue worne the hornes on his head.
Hee is no crescent, and his hornes are inuisible,
within the circumference.
This lanthorne doth the horned Moone pre
sent: My selfe, the man i'th Moone doth seeme to be.
This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man
should be put into the Lanthorne. How is it els the man
i'th Moone?
I am vvearie of this Moone; vvould he would
change.
It appeares by his smal light of discretion, that
he is in the wane: but yet in courtesie, in all reason, vve
must stay the time.
Proceed Moone.
All that I haue to say, is to tell you, that the
Lanthorne is the Moone; I, the man in the Moone; this
thorne bush, my thorne bush; and this dog, my dog.
Why all these should be in the Lanthorne: for
they are in
the Moone. But silence, heere comes Thisby.
Well roar'd Lion.
Well run Thisby.
Wel mouz'd Lion.
And then came Piramus.
And so the Lion vanisht.
No Die, but an ace for him; for he is but one.
Lesse then an ace man. For he is dead, he is no
thing.
With the helpe of a Surgeon, he might yet reco
uer, and proue an Asse.
Me thinkes shee should not vse a long one for
such a Piramus: I hope she will be breefe.
A Moth wil turne the ballance, which Piramus
which Thisby is the better.
She hath spyed him already, with those sweete
And thus she meanes, videlicit.
Moone‑shine & Lion are left to burie the dead.
I, and Wall too.
No, I assure you, the wall is downe, that parted
their Fathers. Will it please you to see the Epilogue, or
to heare a Bergomask dance, betweene two of our com
pany?
No Epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs
no excuse. Neuer excuse; for when the plaiers are all
dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if hee that
writ it had plaid Piramus, and hung himselfe in Thisbies
garter, it would haue beene a fine Tragedy: and so it is
truely, and very notably discharg'd. But come, your
Burgomaske; let your Epilogue alone.