Enter Puck.
Puck.
[360] Now the hungry lion roars,
[361] And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
[363] All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
[365] Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud.