41. The Beggar to Mab, the Fairy Queen
Please your Grace, from out your storeGive an alms to one that’s poor,That your mickle may have more.Black I’m grown for want of meat,Give me then an ant to eat,Or the cleft ear of a mouseOver-sour’d in drink of souce;Or, sweet lady, reach to meThe abdomen of a bee;Or commend a cricket’s hip,Or his huckson, to my scrip;Give for bread, a little bitOf a pease that ‘gins to chit,And my full thanks take for it.Flour of fuz-balls, that’s too goodFor a man in needy-hood;But the meal of mill-dust canWell content a craving man;Any orts the elves refuseWell will serve the beggar’s use.But if this may seem too muchFor an alms, then give me suchLittle bits that nestle thereIn the pris’ner’s pannier.So a blessing light uponYou, and mighty Oberon;That your plenty last till whenI return your alms again.