This Lethe water, you must know, The memory destroyeth so, That of our weal, or of our woe, It all remembrance blotted, Of it nor can you ever think: For they no sooner took this drink, But nought into their brains could sink, Of what had them besotted. King Oberon forgotten had That he for jealousy ran mad; But of his queen was wond’rous glad, And ask’d how they came thither. Pigwiggen likewise doth forget That he Queen Mab had ever met, Or that they were so hard beset When they were found together. Nor either of ’em both had thought That e’er they had each other fought, Much less that they a combat sought, But such a dream were loathing. Tom Thumb had got a little sup, And Tomalin scarce kiss’d the cup, Yet had their brains so sure lockt up, That they remember’d nothing. Queen Mab and her light maids the while Amongst themselves do closely smile, To see the king caught with this wile, With one another jesting: And to the Fairy Court they went, With mickle joy and merriment, Which thing was done with good intent; And thus I left them feasting. MICHAEL DRAYTON. PRINCE BRIGHTKIN. SCENE: _A Forest in Fairyland_. DAWN. _First Fairy._ Fairies and Elves! Shadows of night Pale and grow thin, Branches are stirr’d; Rouse up yourselves; Sing to the light, Fairies, begin,— Hark, there’s a bird! _Second._ For dreams are now fading, Old thoughts in new morning; Dull spectres and goblins To dungeon must fly. The starry night changeth, Its low stars are setting, Its lofty stars dwindle And hide in the sky. _First._ Fairies, awake! Light on the hills! Blossom and grass Tremble with dew; Gambols the snake, Merry bird shrills, Honey-bees pass, Morning is new. _Second._ Pure joy of the cloudlets, All rippled in crimson! Afar over world’s edge The night-fear is roll’d; O look how the Great One Uplifts himself kingly; At once the wide morning Is flooded with gold! _First._ Fairies, arouse! Mix with your song Harplet and pipe, Thrilling and clear. Swarm on the boughs! Chant in a throng! Morning is ripe, Waiting to hear.