_The._ No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no 345 excuse. Never excuse; for when the players are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it had played Pyramus and hanged himself in Thisbe’s garter, it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably discharged. But, come, your Bergomask: let 350 your epilogue alone. [_A dance._ The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve: Lovers, to bed; ’tis almost fairy time. I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn, As much as we this night have overwatch’d. 355 This palpable-gross play hath well beguiled The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed. A fortnight hold we this solemnity, In nightly revels and new jollity. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ PUCK. _Puck._ Now the hungry lion roars, 360 And the wolf behowls the moon; Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, All with weary task fordone. Now the wasted brands do glow, Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, 365 Puts the wretch that lies in woe In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night, That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite, 370 In the church-way paths to glide: And we fairies, that do run By the triple Hecate’s team, From the presence of the sun, Following darkness like a dream, 375 Now are frolic: not a mouse Shall disturb this hallow’d house: I am sent with broom before, To sweep the dust behind the door. _Enter_ OBERON _and_ TITANIA _with their train_. _Obe._ Through the house give glimmering light, 380 By the dead and drowsy fire: Every elf and fairy sprite Hop as light as bird from brier; And this ditty, after me, Sing, and dance it trippingly. 385 _Tita._ First, rehearse your song by rote, To each word a warbling note: Hand in hand, with fairy grace, Will we sing, and bless this place. [_Song and dance._ _Obe._ Now, until the break of day, 390 Through this house each fairy stray. To the best bride-bed will we, Which by us shall blessed be; And the issue there create Ever shall be fortunate. 395 So shall all the couples three Ever true in loving be; And the blots of Nature’s hand Shall not in their issue stand; Never mole, hare lip, nor scar, 400 Nor mark prodigious, such as are Despised in nativity, Shall upon their children be. With this field-dew consecrate, Every fairy take his gait; 405 And each several chamber bless, Through this palace, with sweet peace, Ever shall in safety rest, And the owner of it blest. Trip away; make no stay; 410 Meet me all by break of day.