Ger. Look to your shanks,
Your breech is safe enough; the wolf's a fern-brake.
Boor. But see, see, see! there is a serpent in it!
'T has eyes as broad as platters; it spits fire!
Now it creeps tow'rds us; help me and say my prayers!
'T hath swallowed me almost; my breath is stopt:
I cannot speak! Do I speak, mistress?—tell me.
Ger. Why thou strange timorous sot, canst thou perceive
Anything i' th' bush but a poor glowworm.
Boor. It may be 'tis but a glowworm now; but 'twill
Grow to a fire-drake presently.
Ger. Come then from it!
I have a precious guide of you, and courteous,
That gives me leave to lead myself the way thus. [Holla.
Boor. It thunders; you hear that now?
Ger. I hear one holla.
Boor. 'Tis thunder! thunder! see a flash of lightning
Are you not blasted, mistress? Pull your mask off;
'T has play'd the barber with me here: I have lost
My beard, my beard! Pray God you be not shaven;
'T will spoil your marriage, mistress.
Ger. What strange wonders fear fancies in a coward!
Boor. Now the earth opens!