1 FAIRY You spotted snakes with double tongue,
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen.
Newts and blindworms, do no wrong,
Come not near our Fairy Queen.
CHORUS Philomel, with melody,
Sing in our sweet lullaby,
Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby.
Never harm, nor spell, nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh.
So good night, with lullaby.
2 FAIRY Weaving spiders, come not here –
Hence, you long-legged spinners, hence.
Beetles black, approach not near,
Worm nor snail do no offence.
CHORUS Philomel, with melody,
Sing in our sweet lullaby,
Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby.
Never harm, nor spell, nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh.
So good night, with lullaby. ([Titania] sleeps.)
1 FAIRY Hence, away; now all is well.
One aloof stand sentinel. [Exeunt Fairies.] (2.2.9-30)
A sweet fairy song, naming all (or most…) of the usual suspects for scary dreams and nighttime troublemaking, you spotted snakes with double tongue (prescient to start with the possibility of lying, of deceit, and of concealment, as Oberon waits?) and then the thorny hedgehogs, who must be not seen: hedgehogs are always sinister in early modern contexts, in need of a good PR campaign from Mrs Tiggywinkle. Newts and blindworms, do no wrong, come not near our fairy queen. Nothing slithery or slimy, no reptiles! This is her BOWER, you’re BANNED. And the nightingale will sing the lullaby too, Philomel, with melody (an editor will invariably add a reference to Ovid’s Philomel, survivor of rape and mutilation, who takes a terrible revenge and becomes a bird; that dark history must have some purchase here, alas, it seems)—sing in our sweet lullaby: join in our song! add your beautiful voice! This is a protective charm as well as a lullaby, never harm, nor spell, nor charm, come our lovely lady nigh. Keep her safe as she sleeps! So goodnight, with lullaby. Weaving spiders, come not here—you’re not allowed either—hence, you long-legged spinners, hence. Get away! Beetles black, approach not near, worm nor snail, do no offence. No BUGS. Flowers and fairies and music only are allowed in Titania’s bower—and that it’s insects, mostly, being repelled is yet another reminder of the imagined size of the fairies; they’re not worried about lions and tigers and bears, or even foxes and badgers. The first fairy—perhaps the one who spoke with Puck—seems to be in charge: hence, away; now all is well. We’ve done all we can to sing Titania asleep and guarantee her quiet rest. Bedtime routine, done. One aloof stand sentinel, though; someone needs to stay behind, a wee way off, and keep watch.
The fairies were very likely played by children, rather than the boys; they can learn a song, which is repetitive, with an easy refrain, and perhaps a dance, and the first fairy (who might be one of the boys; there are three other boys needed, if Titania and Hippolyta are doubled) can take charge of them, directing them on and off stage, starting the song, and so on. It’s brilliantly economical company writing.
