An I may hide my face, let me play Thisbe too! (I.ii.)
Have you the lion’s part written? Pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study. (I.ii.)
I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us. But I will aggravate my voice so that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove. I will roar you an ’t were any nightingale. (I.ii.)
We will meet, and there we may rehearse most obscenely and courageously. Take pains. Be perfect. Adieu. (I.ii.)