3rd B.—Now the charm begins to brew;
Sisters, sisters, add thereto
Scraps of Lethbridge’s old speeches
Mix’d with leather from his breeches,
Rinsings of old Bexley’s brains,
Thickened (if you’ll take the pains)
With that pulp which rags create,
In their middle, nympha state,
Ere, like insects frail and sunny,
Forth they wing abroad as money.