Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced.
Yet, should I try, [the uncontrolled worth]
[Of this pure cause] would kindle my rapt spirits
To such a flame of sacred vehemence 795
That dumb things would be moved to sympathize,
And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake,
Till all thy magic structures, reared so high,
Were shattered into heaps o’er thy false head.
Comus. She fables not. I feel that I do fear 800
Her words set off by some superior power;