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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.

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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.