Quic.
Fairies, black, gray, green, and white,
You moon-shine revellers, and shades of night,

You orphan-heirs of fixed destiny,
Attend your office, and your quality.
Crier hobgoblin, make the fairy o-yes.

Pist.
Elves, list your names; silence, you airy toys.
Cricket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap:
Where fires thou find'st unrak'd, and hearths unswept,
There pinch the maids as blew as bilbery.
Our radiant Queen hates slutt and sluttery.

Fal.
They're fairies, he that speaks to them shall die.
I'll wink and couch; no man their works must eye. [Lyes down upon his face.

Eva.
Where's Bede? go you, and where you find a maid
That ere she sleep hath thrice her prayers said,
Raise up the organs of her fantasie,
Sleep she as sound as careless infancy;
But those that sleep and think not on their sins,
Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides and shins.

Quic.
About, about;
Search Windsor castle, elves, within and out.
Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room,
That it may stand 'till the perpetual doom,
In state as wholsom, as in state 'tis fit;
Worthy the owner, and the owner it.
The several chairs of order look you scour,
With juice of balm and ev'ry precious flow'r;
Each fair instalment, coat and sev'ral crest,
With loyal blazon evermore be blest.
And nightly-medow-fairies, look you sing
Like to the Garter-compass in a ring:
Th' expressure that it bears, green let it be,
More fertile fresh than all the field to see;
And, Hony Soit Qui Mal-y-Pense write,
In emrold-tuffs, flow'rs purple, blue and white,

Like saphire-pearl, and rich embroidery,
Buckled below fair Knight-hood's bending knee;
Fairies use flow'rs for their charactery.
Away, disperse; but 'till 'tis one a clock
Our dance of custom round about the Oak
Of Herne the hunter, let us not forget.

Eva.
Lock hand in hand, your selves in order set:
And twenty glow-worms shall our lanthorns be
To guide our measure round about the tree.
But stay, I smell a man of middle earth.

Fal.

Heav'ns defend me from that Welch fairy, lest he transform me to a piece of cheese.

Pist.
Vild worm, thou wast o'er-look'd ev'n in thy birth.

Quic.
With tryal-fire touch me his finger end;
If he be chaste, the flame will back descend
And turn him to no pain; but if he start,
It is the flesh of a corrupted heart.

Pist.
A tryal, come. [They burn him with their tapers, and pinch him.

Eva.
Come, will this wood take fire?

Fal.
Oh, oh, oh:

Quic.
Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire;
About him, fairies, sing a scornful rhime.
And as you trip, still pinch him to your time.
The SONG.
  Fie on simple phantasie:
  Fie on lust and luxury:
  Lust is but a bloody fire,
  Kindled with unchaste desire,
  Fed in heart whose flames aspire,
As thoughts do blow them higher and higher.

  Pinch him, fairies, mutually;
  Pinch him for his villany:
Pinch him, and burn him, and turn him about,
'Till candles, and star-light, and moon-shine be out. [He offers to run out.

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