O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies midwife; and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman;
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's noses as they sleep:
Her waggon-spokes are made of long spinner' legs:
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;
The traces, of the smallest spider's web;
The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams;
Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film:
Her waggoneer, a small grey-coated gnat,
Not half so big as a little round worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid:
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
O'er Courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight;
O'er lawyers fingers, who straight dream on fees;
O'er ladies' lips; who straight on kisses dream,-
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breath with sweet meats tainted are.
Sometime she gallops ore a courtiers nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit:
And sometime comes she with tithe pigs tale,
Tickling a parsons nose as a lies asleep,
Then he dreams of another benefice.
Sometime she driveth ore a soldier’s neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, Ambuscados, Spanish Blades:
Of healths five fathom deep, and then anon
Drums in his ears, at which he starts and wakes;
And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two,
And sleeps again: This is that very Mab
That plats the manes of horses in the night:
And bakes the Elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs,
Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes,
This is the hag, when Maids lie on their backs,
That presses them, and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage:
This is she...