Osm. What a half-devil is he!
His errand was to draw the lowland damps,
And noisome vapours, from the foggy fens;
Then breathe the baleful stench, with all his force,
Full on the faces of our christened foes.
Grim. Accordingly he drained those marshy grounds,
And bagged them in a blue pestiferous cloud;
Which when he should have blown, the frighted elf
Espied the red-cross banners of their host,
And said, he durst not add to his damnation.