I do wander everywhere, swifter than the moon is sphere.

And I serve the Fairy Queen To do her orbs upon the green.

Farewell.

Thou lobe of spirits, I'll be gone.

Our queen and all our elves come here anon.

And now they never meet in grove or green By fountain clear or spangled starlight sheen

But they do square that all their owls for fear creep into acorn cups and hide them there.

Either I mistake your shape and making quite, or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite called Robin Goodfellow.

Are not you he?

I am that merry wanderer of the night.

Then slip I from her bum,

Down topples she and Taylor cries and falls into a cough.

But room, fairy, here comes Oberon.

And here my mistress, were that he were gone.