_Mer._ Fear not. This vial shall restore her sight. _Arth._ Oh might I hope,--and what's impossible To Merlin's art?--to be myself the bearer, That with the light of heaven she may discern Her lover first! _Mer._ 'Tis wond'rous hazardous; Yet I foresee the event, 'tis fortunate. I'll bear ye safe, and bring ye back unharmed: Then lose not precious time, but follow me. [_Exeunt_, MERLIN _leading_ ARTHUR. SCENE II.--_A Deep Wood._ _Enter_ PHILIDEL. _Phil._ I left all safe behind; For, in the hindmost quarter of the wood, My former lord, grim Osmond, walks the round, Calls o'er the names, and schools the tardy sprites. His absence gives me more security. At every walk I passed, I drew a spell; So that, if any fiend, abhorring heaven, There sets his foot, it roots him to the ground. Now could I but discover Emmeline, My task were fairly done. [_Walking about, and prying betwixt the Trees._ _Enter_ GRIMBALD _rushing out: He seizes_ PHILIDEL, _and binds him in a Chain_. _Grim._ O rebel, have I caught thee! _Phil._ Ah me! what hard mishap! _Grim._ What just revenge!-- Thou miscreant elf, thou renegado scout, So clean, so furbished, so renewed in white, The livery of our foes; I see thee through: What mak'st thou here? thou trim apostate, speak. Thou shak'st for fear, I feel thy false heart pant. _Phil._ Ah mighty Grimbald, Who would not fear, when seized in thy strong gripe! But hear me, Oh renowned, Oh worthy fiend, The favourite of our chief! _Grim._ Away with fulsome flattery, The food of fools; thou knowest where last we met, When, but for thee, the Christian had been swallowed In quaking bogs, and living sent to hell. _Phil._ Ay, then I was seduced by Merlin's art, And half persuaded by his soothing tales, To hope for heaven; as if eternal doom Could be reversed, and undecreed for me; But I am now set right. _Grim._ Oh, still thou think'st to fly a fool to mark. _Phil._ I fled from Merlin, free as air that bore me, To unfold to Osmond all his deep designs. _Grim._ I believe nothing: Oh thou fond impostor, When wert thou last in hell? Is not thy name Forgot, and blotted from the infernal roll? But since thou sayest, thy errand was to Osmond, To Osmond shalt thou go: march, know thy driver. _Phil._ [_Kneeling._] Oh spare me, Grimbald, and I'll be thy slave, Tempt hermits for thee, in their holy cells, And virgins, in their dreams. _Grim._ Canst thou, a devil, hope to cheat a devil? A spy! why, that's a name abhorred in hell. Haste, forward, forward, or I'll goad thee on With iron spurs. _Phil._ But use me kindly then. Pull not so hard, to hurt my airy limbs; I'll follow thee unforced: look, there's thy way.