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 screech owl, screeching loud, puts the wretch that lies in woe in remembrance of a shroud. now it is the time of night that the graves all gaping wide, every one lets forth his 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.
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