Did ne’re before to me smell half so strong:
My panting heart (I almost stew’d to death)
Did beat so fast I could not draw my breath.
Now comes the worst, the noise approach’d more near,
All things combin’d for to increase our fear.
Mounting the stairs Old Nick was drunk I think,
To break his Bottle, and to spill his drink:
The ratling Flask tumbling the stairs amain,
Did make us think the Devil shook his Chain.
But now th’ appearance of the Morning-light,