A self-penned item from Linley's anthology of settings for Shakespeare's stage.

Lyrics: William Shakespeare

Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf beholds the moon;
While the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
While the scritch-owl, scritching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night
That the graves, all gaping wide,
Ev'ry one lets forth his sprite,
In the churchway paths to glide.
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate's team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness as a dream.
Now we frolic, not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow'd house.
I am sent with broom before
To sweep the dust behind the door.