“A plague upon Queen Mab!” quoth he,
  “And all her maids where’er they be: 
  I think the devil guided me,
      To seek her so provoked!”
  Where stumbling at a piece of wood,
  He fell into a ditch of mud,
  Where to the very chin he stood,
      In danger to be choked.

  Now worse than e’er he was before,
  Poor Puck doth yell, poor Puck doth roar,
  That waked Queen Mab, who doubted sore
      Some treason had been wrought her: 
  Until Nymphidia told the Queen,
  What she had done, what she had seen,
  Who then had well-near cracked her spleen
      With very extreme laughter.

  But leave we Hob to clamber out,
  Queen Mab and all her Fairy rout,
  And come again to have a bout
      With Oberon yet madding: 
  And with Pigwiggen now distraught,
  Who much was troubled in his thought,
  That he so long the Queen had sought,
      And through the fields was gadding.

  And as he runs he still doth cry,
  “King Oberon, I thee defy,
  And dare thee here in arms to try,
      For my dear lady’s honour: 
  For that she is a Queen right good,
  In whose defence I’ll shed my blood,
  And that thou in this jealous mood
      Hast laid this slander on her.”

  And quickly arms him for the field,
  A little cockle-shell his shield,
  Which he could very bravely wield,
      Yet could it not be pierced: 
  His spear a bent[14] both stiff and strong,
  And well-near of two inches long: 
  The pile was of a horse-fly’s tongue,
      Whose sharpness nought reversed.

  And puts him on a coat of mail,
  Which was of a fish’s scale,
  That when his foe should him assail,
      No point should be prevailing: 
  His rapier was a hornet’s sting: 
  It was a very dangerous thing,
  For if he chanced to hurt the King,
      It would be long in healing.

  His helmet was a beetle’s head,
  Most horrible and full of dread,
  That able was to strike one dead,
      Yet did it well become him;
  And for a plume a horse’s hair
  Which, being tossed with the air,
  Had force to strike his foe with fear,
      And turn his weapon from him.

  Himself he on an earwig set,
  Yet scarce he on his back could get,
  So oft and high he did curvet,
      Ere he himself could settle: 
  He made him turn, and stop, and bound,
  To gallop, and to trot the round,
  He scarce could stand on any ground,
      He was so full of mettle.

  When soon he met with Tomalin,
  One that a valiant knight had bin,
  And to King Oberon of kin;
      Quoth he, “Thou manly Fairy,
  Tell Oberon I come prepared,
  Then bid him stand upon his guard;
  This hand his baseness shall reward,
      Let him be ne’er so wary.