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Whose spreading branches shade her chamber walls; So do not I; for when 'tis dark o'nights Goblins howl there, and ghosts rise thro' the ground. I hear them many a time when I'm a bed, And hide beneath the cloaths my cow'ring head, O! is it not a frightful thing, my lord, To sleep alone i' the dark?

Bas. Poor harmless child! thy prate is wondrous sweet.

1st Mask. What dost thou here, thou little truant boy? Come play thy part with us.