_Puck._ The king doth keep his revels here to-night: Take heed the queen come not within his sight; For Oberon is passing fell and wrath, 20 Because that she as her attendant hath A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king; She never had so sweet a changeling: And jealous Oberon would have the child Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild; 25 But she perforce withholds the loved boy, Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy: And now they never meet in grove or green, By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen, But they do square, that all their elves for fear 30 Creep into acorn-cups and hide them there. _Fai._ Either I mistake your shape and making quite, Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite Call’d Robin Goodfellow: are not you he That frights the maidens of the villagery; 35 Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern, And bootless make the breathless housewife churn; And sometime make the drink to bear no barm; Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm? Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, 40 You do their work, and they shall have good luck: Are not you he? _Puck._ Thou speak’st aright; I am that merry wanderer of the night. I jest to Oberon, and make him smile, When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, 45 Neighing in likeness of a filly foal: And sometime lurk I in a gossip’s bowl, In very likeness of a roasted crab; And when she drinks, against her lips I bob And on her wither’d dewlap pour the ale. 50 The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me; Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, And ‘tailor’ cries, and falls into a cough; And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh; 55 And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear A merrier hour was never wasted there. But, room, fairy! here comes Oberon. _Fai._ And here my mistress. Would that he were gone! _Enter, from one side_, OBERON, _with his train; from the other_, TITANIA, _with hers_. _Obe._ Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania. 60 _Tita._ What, jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip hence: I have forsworn his bed and company. _Obe._ Tarry, rash wanton: am not I thy lord? _Tita._ Then I must be thy lady: but I know When thou hast stolen away from fairy land, 65 And in the shape of Corin sat all day, Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here, Come from the farthest steppe of India? But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, 70 Your buskin’d mistress and your warrior love, To Theseus must be wedded, and you come To give their bed joy and prosperity.