Cipr. Which I will be told to know—
For as one ris’n from darkness tow’rd the light,
A veil seems clearing from before my sight—
She is a sorcerer, and of the kind
That old Lisandro died suspected of?—
Oh cunning doctor, to outwit yourself,
Outwitted as you have been, and shall be
By him who if your devilish magic fail’d
To teach its purposed mischief,
Thus on his teacher turns it back in full