By the Whirlwindes hollow sound,
    By the Thunders dreadfull stound,
    Yells of Spirits vnder ground,
      I chardge thee not to feare vs: 
    By the Shreech-owles dismall note,
    By the Blacke Night-Rauens throate, 430
    I charge thee Hob to teare thy Coate
      With thornes if thou come neere vs,

    Her Spell thus spoke she stept aside,
    And in a Chincke her selfe doth hide,
    To see there of what would betyde,
      For shee doth onely minde him: 
    When presently shee Puck espies,
    And well she markt his gloating eyes,
    How vnder euery leafe he spies,
      In seeking still to finde them. 440

    But once the Circle got within,
    The Charmes to worke doe straight begin,
    And he was caught as in a Gin;
      For as he thus was busie,
    A paine he in his Head-peece feeles,
    Against a stubbed Tree he reeles,
    And vp went poore Hobgoblins heeles,
      Alas his braine was dizzie.

    At length vpon his feete he gets,
    Hobgoblin fumes, Hobgoblin frets, 450
    And as againe he forward sets,
      And through the Bushes scrambles;
    A Stump doth trip him in his pace,
    Down comes poore Hob vpon his face,
    And lamentably tore his case,
      Amongst the Bryers and Brambles.

    A plague vpon Queene Mab, quoth hee,
    And all her Maydes where ere they be,
    I thinke the Deuill guided me,
      To seeke her so prouoked. 460
    Where stumbling at a piece of Wood,
    He fell into a dich of mudd,
    Where to the very Chin he stood,
      In danger to be choked.

    Now worse than e’re he was before: 
    Poore Puck doth yell, poore Puck doth rore;
    That wak’d Queene Mab who doubted sore
      Some Treason had been wrought her: 
    Vntill Nimphidia told the Queene
    What she had done, what she had seene, 470
    Who then had well-neere crack’d her spleene
      With very extreame laughter.

    But leaue we Hob to clamber out: 
    Queene Mab and all her Fayrie rout,
    And come againe to haue about
      With Oberon yet madding: 
    And with Pigwiggen now distrought,
    Who much was troubled in his thought,
    That he so long the Queene had sought,
      And through the Fields was gadding. 480

    And as he runnes he still doth crie,
    King Oberon I thee defie,
    And dare thee here in Armes to trie,
      For my deare Ladies honour: 
    For that she is a Queene right good,
    In whose defence Ile shed my blood,
    And that thou in this iealous mood
      Hast lay’d this slander on her.