PUCK (scornfully)
As if I were a laggard, more than they!—
Why, in an instant, I could reach the moon;
Thrice, in an hour, could girdle the round earth,
And with more time, should I accomplish less?
Here are the Lilies, here the rose-buds moss’d
And Linden flowers, that I was bid collect;
And spices rich from Ceylon's gorgeous Isle.
See, with what lavish hand I scatter round
All sweets that grow upon the utmost shores
Of Asia, or of burning Africa,
Or in deep vallies, hid from human ken.—
Ye will trip gaily over them, and spice
The air, at every step with frankincense.—
And yonder too—for our sweet Fairy Queen
I've spread a dainty couch of downy plumes.
Azure, and green and gold, stripp’d from the wings
Of Butterflies.
FIRST FAIRY.
Of Butterflies. A right brave Spirit thou!
