But I in mee am chang’d, I am alive and dead.
My feete are turn’d to rootes, my heart becommeth lead,
No witchcraft is so ill, as which mans minde destroyeth.
14 Yet Witches may repent, thou art farre worse than they:
Alas, that I am forst such evill of thee to say:
I say thou art a Divel though cloathd in Angels shining:
For thy face tempts my soule to leave the heavens for thee,
And thy words of refuse doo powre even hell on mee:
Who tempts, and tempting plagues are Divels in true defining.
15 You then ungrateful theefe, you murthering Tirant you,