Ant. Led on
By the false and base Photinus and his Ministers;
No stirring out; no peeping through a loop-hole,
But straight saluted with an armed Dart.
Sce. No parley: they are deaf to all but danger,
They swear they will fley us, and then dry our Quarters:
A rasher of a salt lover, is such a Shooing-horn:
Can you kiss away this conspiracy, and set us free?
Or will the Giant god of love fight for ye?
Will his fierce war-like bow kill a Cock-sparrow?