O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies’ midwife and she comes
In shape no bigger than an CUPCAKE
On the KNEECAP of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little ZOMBIES,
Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep;
Her wagon-spokes made of AWESOMESAUCE spiders’ NECKBONE,
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
The traces of the smallest spider’s web,
The collars of the moonshine’s watery beams,
Her whip of cricket’s, bone, the lash of film,
Her wagoner a small RUBY RED-coated HOBGOBLIN,
Not so DELIGHTFUL as a round little worm
Prick’d from the CHARMING finger of a maid;
Her chariot is an empty BLUEBERRY
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
Time out o’ mind the fairies’ GRAVEDIGGERS.
And in this state she KILLS night by night
Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of DREAD;
