Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/188

168 Orsabrin. Now the good gods preserve my senses right,

For they were never in more danger!

I' th' name of doubt, what could this be?

Sure, 'twas a conjurer I dealt withal;

And, while I thought him busy at his prayers,

'Twas at his circle, levying this regiment.

Here they are again!

Samorat. Friend—Stranger—Noble youth

Orsabrin. Here, here!

Samorat. Shift, shift the place,

The wood is dangerous: as you love safety,

Follow me.

Philatel. Th' have left the place;

And yet I cannot find the body anywhere.

Maybe, he did not kill him then,

But he recover 'd strength, and reach'd the town.

It may be not too. O, that this hour

Could be call'd back again! But 'tis too late;

And time must cure the wound that's given by fate.

Orsabrin. I' th' shape of lions too, sometimes, and bears?

Samorat. Often, sir.

Orsabrin. Pray, unriddle.

Samorat. The wiser sort

Do think them thieves, which but assume these forms

To rob more powerfully.

Orsabrin. Why does not then

The state set out some forces, and suppress them?

Samorat. It often has, sir, but without success.

Orsabrin. How so?

Samorat. During the time those levies are abroad,

Not one of them appears. There have been,

That have attempted under ground; but of those,

As of the dead, there has been no return.

Orsabrin. Strange!

Samorat. The common people think them

A race of honest and familiar devils;

For they do hurt to none, unless resisted.