_Fal._ The Windsor bell hath struck twelve; the minute draws on. Now, the hot-blooded gods assist me! Remember, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy Europa; love set on thy horns. O powerful love! that, in some respects, makes a beast a man; in some other, a man a beast. You 5 were also, Jupiter, a swan for the love of Leda. O omnipotent Love! how near the god drew to the complexion of a goose!--A fault done first in the form of a beast;--O Jove, a beastly fault! And then another fault in the semblance of a fowl;--think on’t, Jove; a foul fault! When gods have 10 hot backs, what shall poor men do? For me, I am here a Windsor stag; and the fattest, I think, i’ the forest. Send me a cool rut-time, Jove, or who can blame me to piss my tallow?--Who comes here? my doe? _Enter MISTRESS FORD and MISTRESS PAGE._ _Mrs Ford._ Sir John! art thou there, my deer? my 15 male deer? _Fal._ My doe with the black scut! Let the sky rain potatoes; let it thunder to the tune of Green Sleeves, hail kissing-comfits, and snow eringoes; let there come a tempest of provocation, I will shelter me here. 20 _Mrs Ford._ Mistress Page is come with me, sweetheart. _Fal._ Divide me like a bribe buck, each a haunch: I will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for the fellow of this walk, and my horns I bequeath your husbands. Am I a woodman, ha? Speak I like Herne the hunter? 25 Why, now is Cupid a child of conscience; he makes restitution. As I am a true spirit, welcome! [_Noise within._ _Mrs Page._ Alas, what noise? _Mrs Ford._ Heaven forgive our sins! _Fal._ What should this be? 30 _Mrs Ford._} Away, away! [_They run off._ _Mrs Page._} _Fal._ I think the devil will not have me damned, lest the oil that’s in me should set hell on fire; he would never else cross me thus. _Enter SIR HUGH EVANS, disguised as before; PISTOL, as Hobgoblin; MISTRESS QUICKLY, ANNE PAGE, and others, as Fairies, with tapers._ _Quick._ Fairies, black, grey, green, and white, 35 You moonshine revellers, and shades of night, You orphan heirs of fixed destiny, Attend your office and your quality. Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy oyes. _Pist._ Elves, list your names; silence, you airy toys. 40 Cricket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap: Where fires thou find’st unraked and hearths unswept, There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry: Our radiant queen hates sluts and sluttery. _Fal._ They are fairies; he that speaks to them shall die: 45 I’ll wink and couch: no man their works must eye. [_Lies down upon his face._