_Goe, fooles, and let your feares
Glow as your sins[174] and eares;
The good, how e're trod under,
Are Lawreld safe in thunder;
Though lockt up in a Den
One Angel frees you from an host of men_.
_The Angel descends as the King enters, who comes
in with his Lords, Epidophorus and the Clowne_.
_King_. Where is this piece of witchcraft?
_Epi_. 'Tis vanish'd, Sir,
_Clown_. 'Twas here, just at the Caves mouth, where shee lyes.
_Anton_. What manner of thing was it?
_Epi_. An admirable face, and when it sung
All the Clouds danc't methought above our heads,
_Clown_. And all the ground under my heeles quak't like a Bogge.
_King_. Deluded slaves! these are turn'd Christians, too.
_Epi_. The prisoners in my Iayle will not say so.
_Clown_. Turnd Christians! it has ever beene my profession to fang[175]
and clutch and to squeeze: I was first a Varlet[176], then a Bumbaily,
now an under Iailor. Turn'd Christian!
_King_. Breake up the Iron passage of the Cave
And if the sorceresse live teare her in pieces.
_The Angel ascends agen_.
_Epi_. See, 'tis come agen.
_King_. It staggers me.
_Omnes_. Amazement! looke to the King.