Exit.
Now looke and tell mee wher's the lad become.
Boy. The boy is vanisht, and I can see nothing in his stead
But a white horse readie sadled and bridled.
Dickis. And thats the horse we must bestride,
On which both thou and I must ride,
Thou boy before and I behinde,
The earth we tread not, but the winde,
For we must progresse through the aire,
And I will bring thee to such fare
As thou ne're saw'st, up and away,
For now no longer we can stay.
She catches him up, and turning round.
Boy. Help, help.
Exit."
* * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
"Rob. What place is this? it looks like an old barne: ile peep in at some cranny or other, and try if I can see what they are doing. Such a bevy of beldames did I never behold; and cramming like so many Cormorants: Marry choke you with a mischiefe.