.
.
Now the hungry lion roars

Now the hungry lion roars,
     And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
     All with weary task fordone,
Now the wasted brands do glow,
     Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
     In remembrance of a shroud.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
     That the graves, all gaping wide
Every one lets forth its sprite,
     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,
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.
                  (A Midsummer Night's Dream, V, 1)

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