Page.

Come, come; we'll couch i'th' Castle-ditch, 'till we see the light of our Fairies. Remember, Son Slender, my Daughter.

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 a-Clock.

Page.

The Night is dark, Light and Spirits will become it well; Heav'n prosper our Sport. No Man means evil but the Devil, and we shall know him by his Horns. Let's away; follow me.