PUCK  And we fairies, that do run

By the triple Hecate’s team

From the presence of the sun,

Following darkness like a dream,

Now are frolic. Not a mouse

Shall disturb this hallowed house.

I am sent with broom before,

To sweep the dust behind the door.            (5.1.373-380)

It’s FAIRY TIME, not just time for bed, or for ghosts: and we fairies, that do run by the triple Hecate’s team from the presence of the sun—we accompany the moon goddess (Cynthia, one of Hecate’s three aspects; Diana and Hecate are the others), and her chariot is drawn across the sky by DRAGONS—we flee the sun, always chasing after night, following darkness like a dream—a dream, a dream that is now coming to an end (but not quite yet, not quite yet)—we fairies, WE now are frolic; this is our time, and we’re making the most of it, running riot, having fun. But nothing’s out of control, and nothing bad will happen: not a mouse shall disturb this hallowed house. (A small ordinary thing, the opposite of a dragon.) Everything’s safe, everyone can sleep easy. This place is sacred, and we will watch over it. I am sent with broom before, to sweep the dust behind the door: it’s a reminder that Puck is a household spirit, here to clean up, to make things neat and tidy for the new day. It’s homely and at the same time, wonderful, making the darkened house a place at once familiar and strange; uncanny. It’s the final invocation, and creation, of night in the play. (And in the long playhouse afternoon, the shadows are lengthening; if the play were performed as a wedding entertainment, the candles and torches are burning low.) Almost time to sleep; nearly time to wake.