She never had so sweet a changeling.And jealous Oberon would have the childKnight of his train, to trace the forests wild.But she perforce withholds the lovèd boy,Crowns him with flowers and makes him all her joy.
Over hill, over dale, thorough bush, thorough brier, over park, over pale, thorough flood, thorough fire. I do wander everywhere, swifter than the moon's sphere; and I serve the Fairy queen, to dew her orbs upon the green.
Are not you heThat frights the maidens of the villag’ry,Skim milk, and sometimes labor in the quern,And bootless make the breathless housewife churn,And sometime make the drink to bear no barm,
I do wander everywhere,Swifter than the moon's sphere;And I serve the Fairy QueenTo dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;In their gold coats spots you see,Those be rubies, fairy favors;In those freckles live their savors
The King doth keep his revels here tonight.Take heed the Queen come not within his sight,For Oberon is passing fell and wrathBecause that she, as her attendant, hathA lovely boy stolen from an Indian king.
Either I mistake your shape and making quite,Or else you are that shrewd and knavish spriteCalled Robin Goodfellow
I am that merry wanderer of the night.I jest to Oberon and make him smileWhen I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,Neighing in likeness of a filly foal.