Titania. When pouts the wife, and frets the man, This cure is best in Nature, Him to the Arctic circle ban, And her to the Equator. Orchestra. [_Tutti. Fortissimo_] Snout of fly, and nose of gnat, Lead on the band before us! Frog and cricket, cat and bat, Join merry in the chorus! Solo. A soap-bell for a doodle-sack,[*3] The merry waters troubling! Hear the snecke-snicke-snack, From its snub-nose bubbling! Embryo-Spirit. Legs of spider, paunch of toad, And wings, if you would know it; Nor fish, nor fowl, but on the road Perhaps to be a poet! A Pair of Dancers. With many a nimble pace and spring, Through honey-dew and vapour, Trips o'er the ground the little thing, But higher cannot caper. Inquisitive Traveller. Do I see a real thing, Or is it all delusion? Oberon, the fairy king, Amid this wild confusion. Orthodox. Though neither tail nor claws are his, 'Tis true beyond all cavil, As devils were the gods of Greece, He too must be a devil. Northern Artist. 'Tis but a sketch, I must admit; But what I can't unravel To-night, I'll know, with larger wit, From my Italian travel. Purist. Alas! that I should see it too! Here we a riot rare have! Of all the crew, there are but two That powder on their hair have. Young Witch. Powder and petticoat for grey And wrinkled hags are fitting; But I my lusty limbs display, Upon a he-goat sitting. Matron. To speak with such a shameless pack We have nor will nor leisure; Soon may your flesh rot on your back, And we look on with pleasure! Leader of the Orchestra. Snout of fly, and nose of gnat, Sting not the naked beauty! Frog and cricket, cat and bat, Attend ye to your duty! Weathercock. [_to the one side_] A goodly company! as sure As I stand on the steeple; With brides and bridegrooms swarms the moor, The hopefulest of people! Weathercock. [_to the other side_] And opes not suddenly the ground, To swallow one and all up, Then, with a jerk, I'll veer me round, And straight to hell I'll gallop. Xenien. We insects keep them all in awe, With sharpest scissors shear we! Old Nick, our worthy Squire Papa, Here to salute appear we. Hennings. See! how in merry circles they Sit gossiping together; The graceless crew have hearts, they say, As good as any other. Musagetes. This witch and wizard crew to lead, My willing fancy chooses; More hopeful field is here indeed, Than when I lead the Muses. Ci-devant Genius of the Age. The Brocken has a good broad back, Like the High-Dutch Parnassus; The Jury here no man can pack, Or with proud silence pass us. Inquisitive Traveller. Say, who is he so stiff that goes, That stately-stalking stranger? He snuffs for Jesuits with sharp nose, And cries--the Church in danger!