The wonted roar was up amidst the Woods,
        And fill'd the Air with barbarous dissonance,
        At which I ceas't, and listen'd them a while,
        Till an unusuall stop of sudden silence
        Gave respit to the drowsie frighted steeds
        That draw the litter of close-curtain'd sleep.
        At last a soft and solemn breathing sound
        Rose like a steam of rich distill'd Perfumes,
        And stole upon the Air, that even Silence
        Was took e're she was ware, and wish't she might
        Deny her nature, and be never more
        Still to be so displac't. I was all eare,
        And took in strains that might create a soul
        Under the ribs of Death, but O ere long
        Too well I did perceive it was the voice
        Of my most honour'd Lady, your dear sister.
        Amaz'd I stood, harrow'd with grief and fear,
        And O poor hapless Nightingale thought I,
        How sweet thou sing'st, how neer the deadly snare!
        Then down the Lawns I ran with headlong hast
        Through paths, and turnings oft'n trod by day,
        Till guided by mine ear I found the place
        Where that damn'd wisard hid in sly disguise
        (For so by certain signes I knew) had met
        Already, ere my best speed could praevent,
        The aidless innocent Lady his wish't prey,
        Who gently ask't if he had seen such two,
        Supposing him som neighbour villager;
        Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guess't
        Ye were the two she mean't, with that I sprung
        Into swift flight, till I had found you here,
        But furder know I not.  2.Bro.  O night and shades,
        How are ye joyn'd with hell in triple knot
        Against th' unarmed weakness of one Virgin
        Alone, and helpless! Is this the confidence
        You gave me Brother?  Eld. Bro.  Yes, and keep it still,
        Lean on it safely, not a period
        Shall be unsaid for me: against the threats
        Of malice or of sorcery, or that power
        Which erring men call Chance, this I hold firm,
        Vertue may be assail'd, but never hurt,
        Surpriz'd by unjust force, but not enthrall'd,
        Yea even that which mischief meant most harm,
        Shall in the happy trial prove most glory.
        But evil on it self shall back recoyl,
        And mix no more with goodness, when at last
        Gather'd like scum, and setl'd to it self
        It shall be in eternal restless change
        Self-fed, and self-consum'd, if this fail,
        The pillar'd firmament is rott'nness,
        And earths base built on stubble. But com let's on.
        Against th' opposing will and arm of Heav'n
        May never this just sword be lifted up,
        But for that damn'd magician, let him be girt
        With all the greisly legions that troop
        Under the sooty flag of Acheron,
        Harpyies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms
        'Twixt Africa and Inde, Ile find him out,
        And force him to restore his purchase back,
        Or drag him by the curls, to a foul death,
        Curs'd as his life.
          Spir. Alas good ventrous youth,
        I love thy courage yet, and bold Emprise,
        But here thy sword can do thee little stead,
        Farr other arms, and other weapons must
        Be those that quell the might of hellish charms,
        He with his bare wand can unthred thy joynts,
        And crumble all thy sinews.
          Eld. Bro. Why prethee Shepherd
        How durst thou then thy self approach so neer
        As to make this relation?
          Spir. Care and utmost shifts
        How to secure the Lady from surprisal,
        Brought to my mind a certain Shepherd Lad
        Of small regard to see to, yet well skill'd
        In every vertuous plant and healing herb
        That spreds her verdant leaf to th' morning ray,
        He lov'd me well, and oft would beg me sing,
        Which when I did, he on the tender grass
        Would sit, and hearken even to extasie,
        And in requitall ope his leather'n scrip,
        And shew me simples of a thousand names
        Telling their strange and vigorous faculties;
        Amongst the rest a small unsightly root,
        But of divine effect, he cull'd me out;
        The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it,
        But in another Countrey, as he said,
        Bore a bright golden flowre, but not in this soyl:
        Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swayn
        Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon,
        And yet more med'cinal is it then that Moly
        That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave;
        He call'd it Haemony, and gave it me,
        And bad me keep it as of sov'ran use
        'Gainst all inchantments, mildew blast, or damp
        Or gastly furies apparition;
        I purs't it up, but little reck'ning made,
        Till now that this extremity compell'd,
        But now I find it true; for by this means
        I knew the foul inchanter though disguis'd,