Epi. I am bewitcht, Mine Eyes faile me; lead me to [the] King.
Clown. And tell we heard a Mermaide sing.
[Exeunt.
ANGEL SINGS.
Goe, fooles, and let your feares
Glow as your sins[174] and eares;
The good, how e're trod under,
Are Lawreld safe in thunder;
Though lockt up in a Den
One Angel frees you from an host of men.
The Angel descends as the King enters, who comes in with his Lords, Epidophorus and the Clowne.
King. Where is this piece of witchcraft?
Epi. 'Tis vanish'd, Sir,
Clown. 'Twas here, just at the Caves mouth, where shee lyes.
Anton. What manner of thing was it?