Those that Hobgoblin call you and sweet Puck,
You do their work and they shall have good luck.
Are not you he?
Puck.
Thou speak'st aright;
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
I jest to Oberon, and make him smile,
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal;
And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl,