Then choosing out few wordes most horrible, xxxvii (Let none them read) thereof did verses frame, With which and other spelles like terrible, He bad awake blacke _Plutoes_ griesly Dame, And cursed heauen, and spake reprochfull shame Of highest God, the Lord of life and light; A bold bad man, that dar’d to call by name Great _Gorgon_, Prince of darknesse and dead night, At which _Cocytus_ quakes, and _Styx_ is put to flight. And forth he cald out of deepe darknesse dred xxxviii Legions of Sprights, the which like little flyes Fluttring about his euer damned hed, A-waite whereto their seruice he applyes, To aide his friends, or fray his enimies: Of those he chose out two, the falsest twoo, And fittest for to forge true-seeming lyes; The one of them he gaue a message too, The other by him selfe staide other worke to doo. He making speedy way through spersed ayre, xxxix And through the world of waters wide and deepe, To _Morpheus_ house doth hastily repaire. Amid the bowels of the earth full steepe, And low, where dawning day doth neuer peepe, His dwelling is; there _Tethys_ his wet bed Doth euer wash, and _Cynthia_ still doth steepe In siluer deaw his euer-drouping hed, Whiles sad Night ouer him her mantle black doth spred. Whose double gates he findeth locked fast, xl The one faire fram’d of burnisht Yuory, The other all with siluer ouercast; And wakefull dogges before them farre do lye, Watching to banish Care their enimy, Who oft is wont to trouble gentle Sleepe[52]. By them the Sprite doth passe in quietly, And vnto _Morpheus_ comes, whom drowned deepe In drowsie fit he findes: of nothing he takes keepe. And more, to lulle him in his slumber soft, xli A trickling streame from high rocke tumbling downe And euer-drizling[53] raine vpon the loft, Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a swowne: No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes, As still are wont t’annoy the walled towne, Might there be heard: but carelesse Quiet lyes, Wrapt in eternall silence farre from enemyes. The messenger approching to him spake, xlii But his wast[54] wordes returnd[55] to him in vaine: So sound he slept, that nought mought him awake. Then rudely he him thrust[56], and pusht with paine, Whereat he gan to stretch: but he againe Shooke him so hard, that forced him to speake. As one then in a dreame, whose dryer braine Is tost with troubled sights[57] and fancies weake, He mumbled soft, but would not all his silence breake.