When, but for thee, the Christian had been swallowed
In quaking bogs, and living sent to hell.
Phil. Ay, then I was seduced by Merlin's art,
And half persuaded by his soothing tales,
To hope for heaven; as if eternal doom
Could be reversed, and undecreed for me;
But I am now set right.
Grim. Oh, still thou think'st to fly a fool to mark.
Phil. I fled from Merlin, free as air that bore me,
To unfold to Osmond all his deep designs.