Celio. He smiles; our number does not anger him. List; he will tell us now unheard-of news. Torello. Felice, Bruno! are you by? Felice. We are here. Whisper softly, or you may break the spell. Torello. Who are those that talk and sing? Felice. I hear no talking and singing. The charm is acting: these voices which we cannot hear herald the approach of your deliverer. Torello. I hope so; but perhaps it is my imagination. Have you really heard nothing? There were first several who spoke, and Eulalie's voice among them, and then an angel sang. O, that some one would come! It is horribly cold standing here. Bruno. Patience, patience. Scipio. Patience, sir, is a great virtue. Torello. But love is a greater; for were I not in love, I would have no patience. 1st Fairy. The pleasance of our starry residence, In human, bald speech inenarrable, Transcends your dreams of Arcady and Eden. Yet every year we all descend to earth, Because our memories are steeped in joy, Which was our ancient mundane element When men were heroes and the world was young, And life was laughter, love, and noble spleen:-- Alas, for you, poor actors! in Heaven's sight Ye play an after-piece abjectly low!-- Also, because there are--how few they be!-- Who love true riches and despise the false, We leave our unimagined paradise Upon the first night that fair Pleiad, May, Begins her soft ascendance o'er the year, And bringing summer with us, visit earth. Even now I see our elfin nation come, Descending like a shower of frosty snow For lightness, and for loveliness like Iris Speeding in rainbow colours through night's gloom. Look how the lightning or the light doth pass: So have the fairies travelled from their star; They left a minute since, and here they are. Enter Oberon, Titania, Puck, and the Fairies. The Fairies dance and sing. Song. Weave the dance and sing the song; Subterranean depths prolong The rainy patter of our feet; Heights of air are rendered sweet By our singing. Let us sing, Breathing softly, fairily, Swelling sweetly, airily, Till earth and sky our echo ring. Rustling leaves chime with our song; Fairy bells its close prolong, Ding-dong, ding-dong. Philomel, sing loud and high, Leader of our minstrelsy; No owl hoot, or raven cry; All glad sounds join harmony, And let no faintest discord sigh. Crickets chirrup merrily, And grasshoppers cheerily, Till our echo thrill the sky. Rustling leaves chime with our song: Fairy bells its close prolong, Ding-dong, ding-dong.