Book II, 90: On the Eccho

An Eccho's nothing, but a forc'd rebound,
Or airy repercussion of a Sound,
Proceeding from some hollow place, well knowne
To have to Bulk, no Beeing of her owne:
It is no Substance; nothing, but a Noise;
An empty sound; the picture of a voyce:
Such is my Courtly Friend, At my request,
Hee'l breath his service from his hollow brest,
And Eccho-like for every word that's blowne
Into his eares, returnes me two, for one;
But when they come to th'Test, alas they'r found
More light then Ayre, meere shadowes of a Sound;
Ile trust my God; His bounty still afords
As many deedes, as my false Friends do words.