Or hast thyself his slumber broke?
Or made privy to the same?
THO. No; but happily I him spied,
Where in a bush he did him hide,
With wings of purple and blue;
And, were not that my sheep would stray,
The privy marks I would bewray,
Whereby by chance I him knew.
WIL. Thomalin, have no care forthy;
Myself will have a double eye,