Or guilefull spright wandring in empty aire,
Both which fraile men do oftentimes mistake,
Sends to my doubtfull eares these speaches rare,
And ruefull[101] plaints[102], me bidding guiltlesse[103] bloud to spare?
Then groning deepe, Nor damned Ghost, (quoth he,) xxxiii
Nor guilefull sprite to thee these wordes doth speake,
But once a man Fradubio, now a tree,
Wretched man, wretched tree; whose nature weake,
A cruell witch her cursed will to wreake,
Hath thus transformd, and plast in open plaines,