FAIRY  The cowslips tall her pensioners be.

In their gold coats, spots you see:

Those be rubies, fairy favours;

In those freckles live their savours.

I must go seek some dew drops here,

And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.

Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I’ll be gone.

Our queen and all her elves come here anon.         (2.1.10-17)

The magic intensifies, so subtly, so cleverly, picture this, now this, now this: the cowslips tall her pensioners be; first, that the cowslips, those leggy cones of bell-shaped yellow flowers, are tall—a human scale for a little thing—and they are the (still unnamed) fairy queen’s pensioners, her men-at-arms, gorgeous bodyguards, like the yeomen at the Tower of London. Can you picture them, both the cowslips and the guardsmen? Good, well, then, you’ll know that in their gold coats (rich cloth-of-gold) spots you see; their petals are dotted with orange-red inside (five a piece, as it happens), and those be rubies, fairy favours, gifts and marks of favour from the queen, they’re medals, decorations, jewels, not just spots, and in those freckles, live their savours. The rubies and cloth of gold recede, the spotted petals have homely freckles once more, but that’s where their perfume comes from. Picture, look, smell, breathe deep. Yes. I must go seek some dew drops here, and hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear. The cowslips become men once again, gallants who are being adorned with a single pearl earring each, sexy bodyguards indeed—and the fairy is tiny, reaching up on tiptoe to undertake that delicate, flirty mission, hiding a dewdrop in a flower, hanging a jewel from an ear. There’s a world of magic in the grass, on the forest floor, if only you know how to look… Then an assertive touch: farewell, thou lob of spirits, I’ll be gone: I’m out of here, hobgoblin, mate (lob suggests a different, lower class of fairy): our queen and all her elves come here anon. She’s coming, with her train; she’s nearly here!