ARIEL Aye, An English make-believe of antic elves And merry wives, to douse the lustful fire Of old John Falstaff, lured to Windsor Forest.— Our Master deems thou hast learned art enough To laugh at apings of it.
CALIBAN [Still amazed, but curious.] Laugh?
ARIEL Aye, list!
[Caliban stands on one side, with arms folded and listens.]
To Windsor’s magic oak now turn: There—his fatty bulk in guise Of the hornèd hunter Herne— Big Sir John in ambush lies Where the counterfeited fays Troop along the forest ways: How his lust will cease to burn For the Merry Wives—now gaze Yonder by the oak, and learn!
[Ariel raises his staff. Parting, the Cloudy Curtains disclose
THE NINTH INNER SCENE
The gigantic trunk of an oak rises in moonlight, surrounded by the glimmering purple of the obscure forest.
Trooping from the left, enter the disguised Fairies, following their leader Sir Hugh Evans.]