Now it is the time of night,
That the graves, all gaping wide,
370 Every one lets forth his sprite,
[371] In the church-way paths to glide:
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate’s team,
From the presence of the sun,
375 Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic: not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow’d house: