The Show Must Go On

(The stage is empty except for PANSY, who is still collapsed in the middle of the stage)

NEVILLE: Wow. She's been out a while, hasn't she?

HERMIONE: Don't be around when she wakes up.

DEAN: I like how you talk, Hermione.

HERMIONE: Shut up. And wipe the drool off your chin.

(Enter SEAMUS, GOYLE, COLIN, and NEVILLE. GOYLE is dragging CRABBE onstage behind him, thus effectively answering the question of which of them is stronger. As soon as he's onstage, COLIN flops into a sitting position and stares at his script, which is almost completely illegible from CRABBE's drawing)

GOYLE: Are we all met?

HARRY: No, you're all total strangers to each other.

SEAMUS: Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn-brake our tiring-house; and we will do it in action as we will do it before the duke.

HERMIONE: You're going to rehearse? Are you sure? That's such a radical concept, you might want to wati a while for it to sink in....

DEAN: I like it when you're sarcastic.

GOYLE: Peter Quince,--

SEAMUS: What sayest thou, bully Bottom?

HARRY: See? I told you so. Even Shakespeare agrees with me.

DRACO: He's a minion. They're supposed to act like that.

GOYLE: There are things in this comedy of Pyra-mus and Thizb that will never please. First, Pyra-mus must draw a swo-rd to kill himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?

NEVILLE: (edging towards backstage) Byrlakinaparlousfear?!

SNAPE: What was that you said about him getting better, Lockhart?

(There is a moment of silence while everyone looks at the prostrate form of PANSY)

DRACO: Oh, bloody hell. (imitates PANSY) I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done.

DEAN: (stares at DRACO) That is seriously scary.

HARRY: It's one of his talents.

DEAN: One of?

(HARRY blushes)

GOYLE: Not a whit: I have a device to make all well. Write me a... prolog-you; and let the... prolog-you seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords, and that Pyra-mus is not killed indeed; and, for the more better... ass-urance, tell them that I, Pyra-mus, am not Pyra-mus, but Bottom the weaver: this will put them out of fear.

SEAMUS: Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be written in eight and six.

GOYLE: No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight.

DRACO: sarcastically) Oh, yes, that will make it so much better.

DEAN: It won't?

DRACO: No. Eight and six is standard ballad meter. Eight and eight is idiotic.

HERMIONE: (curiously) How do you know that?

DRACO: (avoiding a direct answer) I know a lot of things.

NEVILLE: Willnottheladiesbeafeardofthelion?!

(Blank stares at PANSY's prostrate form. DRACO, offstage, crosses his arms, refusing to imitate PANSY anymore)

GOYLE: Masters, you ouggt-

HERMIONE: Ought!

GOYLE: Ought to con-sy-der with yourselves: to bring in--God shelled us!--a lion among ladies, is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living; and we ought to look to't.

NEVILLE: Thereforeanotherprologuemusttellheisnotalion?!

GOYLE: Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck: and he himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect,--'Ladies,'--or 'Fair-ladies--I would wish You,'--or 'I would request you,'--or 'I would entreat you,--not to fear, not 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 indeed let him name his name, and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner.

LOCKHART: Hm. Practice does make perfect, I suppose. Or nearly so.

SEAMUS: Well it shall be so. But there is two hard things; that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for, you know, Pyramus and Thisbe meet by moonlight.

HARRY: Yes. It's so much less tragic to meet at noon with a picnic lunch.

NEVILLE: Doththemoonshinethatnightweplayourplay?!

GOYLE: A calendar, a calendar! look in the all man ack; find out moon-shine, find out moon-shine.

DEAN: What, is he a werewolf?

HERMIONE: No, not quite.

SEAMUS: Yes, it doth shine that night.

GOYLE: Why, then may you leave a case mint of the great cham burr window, where we play, open, and the moon may shine in at the case mint.

SEAMUS: Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthorn, and say he comes to disfigure, or to present, the person of Moonshine. Then, there is another thing: we must have a wall in the great chamber; for Pyra-mus and Thizb says the story, did talk through the chink of a wall.

NEVILLE: You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom?

RON: Make Colin do it!

HARRY: No, Colin has to wear the dress and be Thisbe.

RON: He can't do both?

DRACO: Not without a hacksaw.

GOYLE: Some man or other must present Wall: and let him have some plaster, or some... loam, or some roog-cast about him, to sy-g niffy wall; and let him hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyra-mus and Thizb whisper.

GINNY: These people are complete idiots. What's the point?

RON: It's a comedy. They're probably supposed to be funny.

SEAMUS: 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.

(HARRY stalks onstage from behind, carrying his wand)

HARRY: What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here,
So near the cradle of the fairy queen?
What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor;
An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause.

HERMIONE: (looking ahead in her script, then starting to walk onstage) Oh no. No. This isn't funny, Harry.

DRACO: (catches her and keeps her back) Says you.

HERMIONE: You're supposed to be his friend!

DRACO: Operative words 'supposed to'.

RON: (looks puzzled) You're not talking about Harry, are you? (leafs through his script, then starts laughing) Go, Harry! Go!

SEAMUS: Speak, Pyramus. Thisbe, stand forth.

GOYLE: Thisbe, the flowers of odours savours sweet,--

SEAMUS: Odours, odours.

GOYLE: I said that! 'Mione? 'Mione? 'd I read it wrong?

(Exit GOYLE)

HARRY: A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here.

(Exit HARRY, following GOYLE)

HERMIONE: Greg! Look out!

RON: Spoilsport.

DEAN: I like it when you worry, Hermione.

COLIN: Do I have a line now?

SEAMUS: Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again.

COLIN: I do have a line! (flips through his script) Where? I can't read any of this! There's pictures all over it!

SEAMUS: 'Ninus' tomb,' man: why, you must not speak that
yet; that you answer to Pyramus: you speak all your
part at once, cues and all Pyramus enter: your cue
is past; it is, 'never tire.'

COLIN: Neville, where's my line?

(NEVILLE bolts offstage)

COLIN: I'm trying to be good, really! I don't want to be a tree!

(Re-enter HARRY, and GOYLE with his head transfigured to look like Professor Trelawney)

HERMIONE: I didn't have anything to do with that!

LOCKHART: I'm sure you didn't. (to SNAPE) Who is he supposed to be?

SNAPE: (amused) It's entirely appropriate, never fear.

LOCKHART: Oh, I wasn't. I just think I missed the joke.

GOYLE: If I were fair, Thizb, I were only thine.

SEAMUS: O monstrous! O strange! we are haunted. Pray, masters! fly, masters! Help!

(Exit SEAMUS, CRABBE, COLIN, and NEVILLE. PANSY continues to lie unconscious on the floor of the stage)

HARRY: 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 hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire;
And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn,
Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn.

(Exit HARRY, trying not to laugh)

GOYLE: Why do they run away? this is a knavery of them to make me afeard.

NEVILLE: (wailing) I'm not going back out there! I just got off!

SEAMUS: (to himself) Must not say anything... must not say anything... must keep mind out of... oh, the hell with it. (to NEVILLE) Hey! Invite me, next time!

GOYLE: I don' unnerstand. What's goin' on?

(Re-enter SEAMUS)

SEAMUS: Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art translated.

(Exit SEAMUS)

GOYLE: I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me; to fright me, if they could. But I will not stir from this place, do what they can: I will walk up and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid. (looks at script, then shakes his head) Don' wanna sing.

(PANSY wakes up and stares at GOYLE, starry-eyed. Her script is in CRABBE's hands, being drawn on)

PANSY: What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?

GINNY: Angel? Him?

GOYLE: (crosses his arms stubbornly) Not gonna sing.

PANSY: (somewhat dazed) Sing, please. I'd love to hear it.

RON: Harry, what precisely is that stuff you and Malfoy've been pouring on everyone?

HARRY: You heard the director. It's just water.

RON: (thinks for a moment) Water doesn't have a formula. Hermione?

HERMIONE: (shoving DEAN away from her]) Not right now! I'm busy!

GOYLE: Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that: and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little... comp-anny together now-a-days; the more the pity that some honest neeg bores will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occ-asion.

SEAMUS: Gleek? Is that anything like 'neeze'?

PANSY: (starry-eyed) Brains and beauty... do you have a girlfriend?

SNAPE: That was not water.

LOCKHART: No, this happened in the other play, too. Well, something like it.

GOYLE: Not so... neither: but if I had wit... enough to get out of this wood, I have... enough to serve mine own turn.

PANSY: No. I'm not going to let you leave. Someone help me keep him here!

(Enter SEAMUS, COLIN, NEVILLE, and CRABBE. CRABBE is following SEAMUS... or rather, he's following the green crayon SEAMUS is holding)

SEAMUS: Ready.

COLIN: Now I have a line?

NEVILLE: AndI?!

CRABBE: Huh?

SEAMUS: Where shall we go?

COLIN: (hopefully) I want to go home.

PANSY: (pointing at GOYLE) Keep him here, don't let him leave.

GINNY: Pansy and Goyle, sittin' in a tree-

RON: Ginny, stop there. Some things are just wrong.

SEAMUS: Hail, mortal!

NEVILLE: Hail!

CRABBE: Bunnies...

COLIN: [doubtfully] Hail?

GOYLE: I cry your worship's mercy, heer-tilly I beseech your worship's name.

HARRY: If he told you that, he'd have to kill you. Right, Neville?

(NEVILLE faints dead away)

HARRY: Or not.

GOYLE: I shall desire you of more ack-ain-tance, good Master Cobweb: if I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you. Your name, honest gentle man?

DRACO: Make bold with him even if you don't cut your finger, Goyle.

HARRY: Behave yourself.

DRACO: Make me.

SEAMUS: Peaseblossom.

(muffled snickers from offstage)

GINNY: Is that anything like Chrysanthemum?

RON: No. Peaseblossom is much sillier.

GOYLE: I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and to Master Peascod, your father. Good Master Peaseblossom, I shall desire you of more ack-ain-tance too. Your name, I beseech you, sir?

COLIN: (confused) I'm Colin, remember? You know me....

GOYLE: Good Master Mus-tard-seed, I know your patience well: that same cowardly, giant-like ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house: I promise you your kindred had made my eyes water ere now. I desire your more ack-ain-tance, good Master Mus-tard-seed.

COLIN: Huh?

PANSY: (fawning) I like your voice. Here, come with me.

GOYLE: (looks over his script) Um. Okay.

DRACO: I suppose you didn't get it wrong after all, did you, Granger?

HERMIONE: (finishing tying DEAN to a chair to keep him from following her) What was your first clue?