Hec. I will but ‘noint, and then I mount.
(A Spirit descends in the shape of a Cat).
(Above). There’s one come down to fetch his dues;
A kiss, a coll, a sip of blood;
And why thou stay’st so long, I muse, I muse,
Since th’ air’s so sweet and good?
Hec. Oh, art thou come,
What news, what news?
Spirit. All goes still to our delight,
Either come, or else