X. A mighty Lyon, lord of all the wood, Having his hunger throughly satisfide With pray of beasts and spoyle of living blood, Safe in his dreadles den him thought to hide: His sternesse was his prayse, his strength his pride, And all his glory in his cruell clawes.

To a wild fellow, that would weary her; A Cannibal, that feeds on the heads of Maids, Then flings their bones and bodies to the Devil, Would any man of discretion venture such a gristle, To the rude clawes of such a Cat-a-mountain?