Rob. Thou speak'st aright;
I am that merrie wanderer of the night:
I iest to Oberon, and make him smile,
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likenesse of a silly foale,
And sometime lurke I in a Gossips bole,
In very likenesse of a roasted crab:
And when she drinkes, against her lips I bob,
And on her withered dewlop poure the Ale.
The wisest Aunt telling the saddest tale,
Sometime for three-foot stoole, mistaketh me,
Then slip I from her bum, downe topples she,
And tailour cries, and fals into a coffe.
And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe,
And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and sweare,
A merrier houre was neuer wasted there.
But roome Fairy, heere comes Oberon

Fair. And heere my Mistris:
Would that he were gone.
Enter the King of Fairies at one doore with his traine, and the
Queene at
another with hers.

Ob. Ill met by Moone-light.
Proud Tytania

Qu. What, iealous Oberon? Fairy skip hence.
I haue forsworne his bed and companie