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 Little bits that nestle there In the prisoner's panier. So a blessing light upon You and mighty Oberon: That your plenty last till when I return your alms again. Mickle, much. Souce, salt-pickle. Huckson, huckle-bone. Chit, sprout. Orts, scraps of food.

Prisoner's panier, the basket which poor prisoners used to hang out of the gaol windows for alms in money or kind.

Let's be jocund while we may, All things have an ending day; And when once the work is done, Fates revolve no flax they've spun.

Revolve, i.e., bring back.

Here a pretty baby lies Sung asleep with lullabies; Pray be silent, and not stir Th' easy earth that covers her.

If Nature do deny Colours, let Art supply.