Henry IV., Act 1, Sc. 3.
ELVES.
Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves;
And ye that on the sand, with printless feet,
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him
When he comes back; you demi-puppets that
By moonshine do the green, sour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe bites not; and you whose pastime
Is to make midnight-mushrooms; that rejoice
To hear the solemn curfew, * * *