"An' when I yell 'Dawn' at you o' mornin's, it'll be for you to hump yoreself an' git up to build the fires and rustle breakfast.

440 "Ne feard the burning waves of Phlegeton, Nor those same mournfull kingdomes, compassed With rustle horrour and fowle fashion; And deep digd vawtes*; and Tartar covered With bloodie night and darke confusion; 445 And iudgement seates, whose iudge is deadlie dred, A iudge that after death doth punish sore The faults which life hath trespassed before.