A very man, who had no cloven feete;
Though William, still of little faith, doth doubt
Tis Robin, or some sprite that walkes about:
Strike him, quoth hee, and it will turne to ayre;
Crosse your selves thrice and strike it: Strike that dare,
Thought I, for sure this massy forrester
In stroakes will prove the better conjurer.
But twas a gentle keeper, one that knew
Humanity, and manners where they grew;
And rode along soe farr till he could say,