In Shakespeare’s plays, and in most comedies we find humour in the representation of ludicrous characters.  Words, which would be dull enough in ordinary cases, become highly amusing when coming from men of peculiar views.  Sometimes people are represented as perpetually riding their hobby, or harping on one favourite subject.  We have an instance of this in Holophernes and his pedantry; and the conversation between the two gravediggers in Hamlet, is largely indebted for its relish to the contrast between the language of the men and their occupation.  In the same way, the ignorance and misrepresentations of rustics in play acting, which Shakespeare had probably often observed in the provinces—­gives zest to the exaggerated caricature in “Midsummer Night’s Dream.”—­

     Bottom. There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisbe
     that will never please.  First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill
     himself, which ladies cannot abide.  How answer you that?

     Snout. By’r lakin a parlous fear.

Starveling. I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is
done.

Bottom. Not a whit.  I have a device to make all well.  Write me a prologue, and let the prologue seem to say, we will not do harm with our swords, and that Pyramus is not killed indeed; and for the more better assurance, tell them that I, Pyramus, am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver; this will put them out of fear.

* * * * *

Snout. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion?

Sta. I fear it, I promise you.

Bottom. Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves to bring in—­God shield us! a lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wildfowl than your lion living, and we ought to look to it.

     Snout. Therefore another prologue must tell, he is not a lion.

Bottom. Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion’s neck; and he must himself speak through, saying thus, or to the same effect—­“Ladies,” or “Fair ladies, I would wish you,” or “I would request you,” or “I would entreat you not to fear, nor to tremble:  my life for yours.  If you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life:  no, I am no such thing.  I am a man as other men are,” and there then let him name his name and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner.

When the play comes on for performance and Snug the joiner roars “like any sucking dove,” the Duke Theseus remarks—­

     A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.

     Demetrius. The very best as a beast, my lord, that e’er I saw.

     Lysander. This lion is a very fox for his valour.

     Theseus. True, and a goose for his discretion.

     Demetrius. Not so, my lord, for his valour cannot carry his
     discretion, and the fox carries the goose.