Little Top Circus & Medicine Show
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve; Lovers, to bed; ’tis almost fairy time. I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn, as much as we this night have overwatch’d. This palpable-gross play hath well beguil’d the heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed. A fortnight hold we this solemnity, in nightly revels, and new jollity.