OBERON

Why angry Scot, I visit thee for love: then what moves thee to wroath? I am. Why stoical Scot, do what thou darest to me, hear is my breast strike. Why pull man: but what twear out how then? Draw it out, now strike fool, canst thou not? Nay first tell me what thou wast from thy birth, what thou hast passed hitherto, why thou dwellest in a Tomb, & lea vest the world? and then I will release thee of these bonds, be before not. But why living in such reputation, didst thou leave to be a Courtier? To what life didst thou then betake thee? And why? Oberon King of Fairies, that loves thee because thou hatest the world, and to gratulate thee, I brought those And tiques to show thee some sport in dancing, which thou haste loved well. That would I feign see. Be quiet Bohan, I'll strike him dumb, and his brother too, their talk shall not hinder our gyg, fallen to it, dance I say ma ̄ . Nay for their sport I will give them this gift, to the Dwarf I give a quick wit, pretty of body, and awarrant his preferment to a Princes service, where by his wisdom he shall gain more love then continued ̄ mon. And to loggerhead your son, I give a wandering life, and promise he shall never lack: and avow that if in all distresses he call upon me to help him: now let them go. That will I see, led and isle follow thee. I tell thee Bohan, Oberon is king, Of quiet, pleasure, profit, and content, Of wealth, of honour, and of all the world, Tide to no place, yet all are tide to one, Live thou in this life, exiled from world and men, And I will show thee wonters ere we partly, Here see I good found actions in thy gyg, And means to paint the world's in constant ways But turn thine ene, see which for I can command. This shows thee Bohan what is worldly pomp. Simeranus, the proud Affirrian Queen, When Ninus died, did tene in her wars, Three millions of footmen to the fight, Five hundredth thousand horse, of armed chars, A hundredth thousand more yet in her pride Was hurt and conquered by S. Tanrobates. Then what is pomp? How should these crafts withdraw thee from the world! But look my Bohan, pomp allureth. Cirus of Persia, Mighty in life, within a marble graven, Was laid to rot, whom Alexander once Beheld in tombde, and weeping did confess Nothing in life could escape from wrethednesse: Why then boast men? Turn but thy head. Sike is the werld, but whilk is he I saw. Sesustris who was conqueror of the werld, Slain at the last, and stamped on by his slaves. The rising sun does call me hence away, Thanks for thy gyg, I may no longer stay: But if my train, did wake thee from thy rest, So shall they sing, thy lullaby to nest. Nor send more virtue in a country maid I tell the Bohan it does make me merry, To think the deeds the king means to perform. Believe me bonny Scot, these strange events, Are passing pleasing, may they end as well. Bohan be pleased, for do they what they will, Here is my hand, I'll save thy son from ill. Yea you Lady for his sport he made, Shall see when least he Hope's, I'll stand his friend, Or else he capers in a halters end. Thy friend Bohan My subjects.