405 Fer. The ditty does remember my drown’d father.
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth [owes]:—I hear it now above me.
[Pros.] The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,
And say what thou seest yond.
Mir.
What is’t? a spirit?
410 Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form. But ’tis a spirit.
Pros. No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses