_Fid._ O Lord, sir, will you answer this? [_Exit._
_Org._ Faith, my lord, some old witch, I think.
_Mel._ O, that my lord would but conceit[162] my tale! Then would I speak and hope to find redress.
_Orl._ Fair Polixena, the pride of Ilion Fear not Achilles' over-madding boy; Pyrrhus shall not, etc.--[163] Souns, Orgalio, why sufferest thou this old trot to come so nigh me?
_Org._ Come, come, stand by, your breath stinks.
_Orl._ What! be all the Trojans fled? Then give me some drink.
_Mel._ Here, Palatine, drink; and ever be thou better for this draught.
_Orl._ What's here? The paltry bottle that Darius quaff'd? [_He drinks, and she charms him with her wand, and he lies down to sleep._ Else would I set my mouth to Tigris' streams, And drink up overflowing Euphrates. My eyes are heavy, and I needs must sleep.
[MELISSA _strikes with her wand, and the_ Satyrs _enter with music; and play round about him; which done, they stay; he awakes and speaks._
What shows are these, that fill mine eyes With view of such regard as heaven admires To see my slumbering dreams! Skies are fulfill'd with lamps of lasting joy, That boast the pride of haught Latona's son; He lighteneth all the candles of the night. Mnemosyne hath kiss'd the kingly Jove, And entertain'd a feast within my brains, Making her daughters'[164] solace on my brow. Methinks, I feel how Cynthia tunes conceits Of sad repeat, and melloweth those desires Which frenzy scarce had ripen'd in my head. Ate, I'll kiss thy restless cheek a while, And suffer fruitless passion bide control. [_Lies down again._
_Mel. O vos Silvani, Satyri, Faunique, deæque,_ _Nymphæ, Hamadryades, Dryades, Parcæque potentes!_ _O vos qui colitis lacusque locosque profundos,_ _Infernasque domus et nigra palatia Ditis!_ _Tuque Demogorgon, qui noctis fata gubernas,_ _Qui regis infernum solium, cælumque, solumque!_ _Exaudite preces, filiasque auferte micantes;_ _In caput Orlandi celestes spargite lymphas,_ _Spargite, quis misere revocetur rapta per umbras_ _Orlandi infelix anima._ [_Then let the music play before him, and so go forth._
_Orl._ What sights, what shows, what fearful shapes are these? More dreadful than appear'd to Hecuba, When fall of Troy was figur'd in her sleep! Juno, methought, sent down from heaven by Jove, Came swiftly sweeping through the gloomy air; And calling Iris, sent her straight abroad To summon Fauns, the Satyrs, and the Nymphs, The Dryads, and all the demigods, To secret council; [and, their] parle past,[165] She gave them vials full of heavenly dew. With that, mounted upon her parti-coloured coach, Being drawn with peacocks proudly through the air, She flew with Iris to the sphere of Jove. What fearful thoughts arise upon this show! What desert grove is this! How thus disguis'd? Where is Orgalio?