So dear to heav'n is saintly chastity, That when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, And in clear dream and solemn vision Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear, Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape.

One sip of this will bathe the drooping spirits in delight, beyond the bliss of dreams.

Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose.

I was all ear, And took in strains that might create a soul Under the ribs of death.

The spirits perverse with easy intercourse pass to and fro, to tempt or punish mortals.

Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth.

Believe and be confirmed.