Diog. I care not; for I have a nightingale to sing[944] her selfe.
Syl. Sing, sirha! 30
Tryco singeth.
Song.[945]
What[946] bird so sings yet so dos wayle?
O 'tis the ravish'd[947] nightingale.
"Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu," shee cryes;
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick song,[948] who is't now we heare? 35
None but the larke so shrill and cleare.