What God or Feend, or spirit of the earth,
Or Monster turned to a manly shape,
Or of what mould or mettel he be made,
What star or state soever governe him,
Let us put on our meet incountring minces,
And in detesting such a divelish Thiefe,
In love of honor and defence of right,
Be arm'd against the hate of such a foe,
Whether from earth, or hell, or heaven he grow.
