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NYMPHIDIA.
Now Proserpine with Mab is goneUnto the place where Oberon.And proud Pigwiggen, one to one, Both to be slain were likely:And there themselves they closely hide;Because they would not be espy'd;For Proserpine meant to decide The matter very quickly.
And suddenly unites the poke,Which out of it sent such a smoke,As ready was them all to choke, So grievous was the pother:So that the knights each other lost,And stood as still as any post,Tom Thum nor Tomalin could boast Themselves of any other.
But, when the mist 'gan somewhat cease,Proserpina commandeth peace,And that a while they should release Each other of their peril:Which here, quoth she, I do proclaimTo all, in dreadful Plutos name,That, as ye will eschew his blame, You let me hear the quarrel.
