I think the devil will not have me damned, lest the
oil that's in me should set hell on fire; he would
else cross me thus.
Enter SIR HUGH EVANS, disguised as before; PISTOL, as Hobgoblin; MISTRESS QUICKLY, ANNE PAGE,
and others, as Fairies, with tapers
Fairies, black, grey, green, and white,
You moonshine revellers and shades of night,
You orphan heirs of
Attend your office and your quality.
Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy oyes.
Elves, list your names; silence, you airy toys.
Cricket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap:
thou find'st unraked and hearths unswept,
There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry:
Our radiant queen
hates sluts and sluttery.
They are fairies; he that speaks to them shall die:
I'll wink and couch: no man their works must eye.
Lies down upon his face
SIR HUGH EVANS
Where's Bede? Go you, and where you find a maid
That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said,
up the organs of her fantasy;
Sleep she as sound as careless infancy:
But those as sleep and think not
on their sins,
Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides and shins.
Search Windsor Castle, elves, within and out:
Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred
That it may stand till the perpetual doom,
In state as wholesome as in state 'tis fit,
Worthy the owner,
and the owner it.
The several chairs of order look you scour
With juice of balm and every precious flower:
fair instalment, coat, and several crest,
With loyal blazon, evermore be blest!
And nightly, meadow-fairies,
look you sing,
Like to the Garter's compass, in a ring:
The expressure that it bears, green let it be,
fertile-fresh than all the field to see;
And 'Honi soit qui mal y pense' write
In emerald tufts, flowers purple,
blue and white;
Let sapphire, pearl and rich embroidery,
Buckled below fair knighthood's bending knee:
use flowers for their charactery.
Away; disperse: but till 'tis one o'clock,
Our dance of custom round about
Of Herne the hunter, let us not forget.
SIR HUGH EVANS
Pray you, lock hand in hand; yourselves in order set
And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be,
guide our measure round about the tree.
But, stay; I smell a man of middle-earth.
Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy, lest he
transform me to a piece of cheese!
Vile worm, thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth.
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