Then out the people yaule an hundred parts,
Some roare, some whine, some creak like wheels of Carts,
Such Notes that Gamut never yet did know,
Nor numerous keys of Harpsicalls in a row
Their Heights and Depths could ever comprehend,
Now below double Ae some descend.
’Bove Ela squealing now ten notes some flie;
Straight then as if they knew they were too high,
With head-long haste downe staires againe they tumble;
Discords and Concords O how thick they jumble!