Nay, now thou ’rt perfect mad, said he, with scorn,
And full of foul derision quit the place.
The skie did rattle with his wings ytorn
Like to rent silk. But I in the mean space
Sent after him this message by the wind
Be ’t so I ’m mad, yet sure I am thou ’rt blind.
By this the out-stretch’d shadows of the trees
Pointed me home-ward, and with one consent
Foretold the dayes descent. So straight I rise
Gathering my limbs from off the green pavement