Page.

Come, come; we'll couch i' the castle-ditch till we see the light of our fairies. Remember, son Slender, my daughter ^note.

Slen.

Ay, forsooth; I have spoke with her, and we have a nay-word how to know one another: I come to her

in white, and cry, ‘mum;’ she cries ‘budget;’ and by that we know one another.

Shal.

That's good too: but what needs either your ‘mum’ or her ‘budget?’ the white will decipher her well enough. It hath struck ten o'clock.

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The night is dark; light and spirits will become it well. Heaven prosper our sport! No man means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns. Let's away; follow me.