Not every man can make a coxcomb; yet there are coxcombs in all states and ranks of life: they are most noticed in high life, because every thing is most noticed there, but they no less exist in lower stations, where they usually exhibit equal force, and sometimes greater sprightliness. It would be hard indeed to suppose that high life had monopolized the ingredients of Coxcombism; a frivolous mind, a conceited disposition, a vain estimate of self, and a handsome person, are to be found, where the bon ton is unknown; and they often shew themselves, by a supposed merit, or imagined ability, in things not regularly attached to them, nor connected with their direct path of life, and their allotted circumstances of situation. If a military coxcomb would restrain himself to military affairs, he might be endured by men of sense, as supposed to be in his element: if a law coxcomb, were merely a coxcomb in law, little offence would ensue from his impertinence: but while such (and numerous others equally coxcombs though of different casts) quitting the line of their professions, seek to render themselves conspicuous in other departments, while they wish by vociferation or by obstinacy to lead, or to overbear, the opinions of better judges than themselves, or to display their self-supposed merit, in matters wherein no merit is expected from them, because foreign from their
professions, , let them learn a lesson from BOTTOM the weaver.
BOTTOM the weaver, was a personable man, a sweet singer, and a professed wit: so speak his brother players respecting him, when lamenting his supposed “transportation.”
“Quince. You have not a man in all Athens, able to discharge
PYRAMUS, but he.
Flute. No; he hath simply the best wit of any handy-craft man in Athens.
Quince. Yes, and the best person too: and he is a very paramour, for a sweet voice.
Flute. You must say, paragon: a paramour is, God bless us! a thing of nought.
O sweet bully BOTTOM! Thus hath he lost six-pence a-day during his life; he could not have ‘scaped six-pence a-day: an the duke had not given him six-pence a-day for playing PYRAMUS, I’ll be hang’d; he would have deserv’d it: six-pence a-day, in PYRAMUS, or nothing.”
Thus endowed, he assumes a consequence correspondent to his opinion of himself, and to others’ opinion of him: PETER QUINCE is hardly so much director, as he is, though PETER QUINCE be the manager in office. In the first act, the vivacity of his opinion outruns his means of judgment, and before he knows the nature of the characters in “the most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of PYRAMUS and THISBY,” he pronounces it , “a very good piece of work, and a merry;” with the same alacrity he answers, when called; “Ready; name what part I am for; and proceed” , the confidence expressed in this single sentence is admirable; and is heightened in its effect by his after enquiry “what is PYRAMUS? a lover? or a tyrant?” When told he is a lover and kills himself for love, he scruples not to foresee his notable discharge of this lover’s character; yet turns with glee to play “Ercles; a part to tear a cat in “-his conception of the lover’s part as “condoling” is highly humourous. “If I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms; I will condole in some measure.” Then, though fixed for PYRAMUS, he offers himself for THISBY, and the great representative of the great Ercles, wishes to speak in a “monstrous little voice, Thisne, Thisne, Oh Pyramus, my lover dear!” Veering again directly opposite, and delirous of undertaking the Lion, he proposes to “roar that it would do any man’s heart good to hear me; I will roar that I will make the DUKE say, let him roar again; let him roar again;” afterwards. “I will aggravate my voice so that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you an ’twere any nightingale.” The joke is augmented by his proposing to play these characters at once; let me play THISBE too:” “let me play the Lion too.” Conceited ambition has a thousand ways of shewing itself: PROTEUS must yield to BOTTOM; and of this BOTTOM is proud: the labours of the loom are forgotten, the warp, and the woos, and the shuttle, are erased from memory; and now, whatever be his merit or his diligence as a weaver, he looks forward to the applauses bestowed on the dying PYRAMUS. This part he undertakes: but the POET has thought proper previously to shew (extremely justly in my opinion) his openness to flattery; though it be gross, no matter, it coincides with his own conceptions of his own sweet self, and thus he maintains his character of a coxcomb.