[Care] Fools! Fools! Fools! When will ye learn that me ye cannot slay? Year after year ye burn me in this grove, lifting your puny shouts of triumph to the stars. When again, ye turn your faces to the marketplace, do ye not find me waiting, as of old? Fools! Fools! Fools to dream ye conquer Care! [Various Men] Say thou, mocking spirit, it is not all a dream. We know thou waiteth for us, when this, our sylvan holiday has ended. We shall meet thee and fight thee as of old and some of us prevail against thee and some thou shalt destroy. But this too, we know, year after year within this happy Grove, our fellowship bans thee for a space. Thine malevolence which would pursue us here has lost its power under these friendly trees. So we burn thee once again this night. And, with the flames that eat thine effigy, we shall read the sign, midsummer sets us free! [Care] Ye shall burn me once again!? [Laughter] Not with these flames, which hither ye have brought from regions where I reign, ye fools and priests. I spit upon your fire!