[386] They wilfully themselves exile from light,
And must for aye consort with black-brow’d night.
Obe. But we are spirits of another sort:
[389] I with the morning’s love have oft made sport;
390 And, like a forester, the groves may tread,
Even till the eastern gate, all fiery-red,
[392] Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams,
[393] Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams.
[394] But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay:
395 We may effect this business yet ere day. [Exit.