JOCASTUS

Be wary Mopsus, learn of me to scorn The mortals; choose a better match: go love Some Fairy Lady! Princely Oberon Shall stand thy friend: and beauteous Mab his Queen Give thee a Maid of Honour. In Fairy land they can: I have herd they chirp Very good Greek and Latin. —It cannot choose but strangely please his highness! A rare devise, a Masque to entertain His Grace of Fairy with. And Antimasque of fleas, which I have taught To dance Currantoes on a spiders thread. So! and why not rather Your Geese & Woodcocks? Mortal hold thy tongue, Thou dost not know the mystery. —And then a jig of Pismires Is excellent. I marry will it. Not to the Fairy land? Rather empty, Because they have sent so much out, as if Their brains were sunk into their beards: King Oberon Has never a beard, yet for his wit I am sure He might have been a Giant. Who comes here? They are, I never saw their Graces Eat such a meal before. They're rid a hunting. Neither, a brace of snails of the first head. I knew him well, a little dapper youth, They call him Periwinkle. Is't not a brave sighed Dorylas? can the mortals Caper so nimbly! Does not King Oberon bear a stately presence? Mab is a beauteous Empress. I do think There will be of Iocastus brood in Fairy. Do not good brother, And I'll woo Thestylis for thee. Canst thou love Mopsus, mortal? Why then be wise, And love him quickly! True distracted Mortal: Thestylis, I say love him he's a fool. A Royal jointure all in Fairy land. Dorylas knows it, A curious Park. Beside a house made all of mother of Pearl; And Ivory Teniscourt. A Saphire dary-roome. Chambers of Agate. The jacks are gold. Then there be walks Curious orchards. Above all the fishponds! every pond is full, Abundance. What divine noise fraught with immortal harmony Salutes mine ear? Darest thou schreetch-owle With thy rude croaking interrupt their music; Whose melody hath made the spheres to lay Their heavenly lutes aside, only to listen To their more charming notes? Prince Oberon? I herd his Graces name. Gracious Prince, The fellow is a fool, and not yet purged From his mortality. Villain th'hast undone me: His Grace is much incensed. It's right, Your Graces humble servant must acknowledge it. Your good Grace is welcome To any thing I have: Nay, Gentlemen Pray do not you spare neither: What say these mighty peers, great Oberon? What say they now? Traitor, for so Prince Oberon deigns to call thee, Stir not, nor mutter. Would? mutterest thou? Still mutterest thou? Yet mutterest thou? Now Noble Lords begi When it shall please your honours. How should I say I do? Ti ti ta tie my Noble Lords. Tititatie to your Lordship's for this excellent music Still mutterest thou? Your Grace is pleased To honour your poor leigeman. Farewell unto your Grace and eke to you, Tititatie my Noble Lords farewell. Divinely Augured; For this I'll make thee Augur to his grace. I'll have't no more a sheep-bell; I am Knight Of the Mellisonant Tingle tangle. Ignorant mortal, Thou dost not understand the terms of honour. As mine, th'Hesperian fruit are crabbs to mine, Hence came the Knighthood, hence. We know it. I'll have they so. For what? I'll have any thing, His grace will not deny me, oh sweet orchard. But shall we not see Claius sacrificed? But how deserved he death? And not offend? And I'll go fetch the youngsters of the town, The mortal Fairies, and the lasses brown, To bring spiced cakes, and ale, to dance and play, Queen Mab her self shall keep it holiday. See, blind mortal, see, With what a port, what grace, what majesty This princely Oberon comes, your Grace is welcome. Does your grace take me for a woman then? Bromius, what shall I do? I am no woman! If geelding of me will preserve your grace, With all my heart. I and shall, Beauteous Queen Mab may lose her longing else. An't please your grace I am your Knight Iocastus. Cannot your Grace distil me to a woman. With all my heart; never let me move But I am up to ears in love. But what if I do marry thee? Sweet Moly! pray let Bromius have some Moly too, He'll make a very pretty waiting maid. Sweet Oberon, I am content. And Thestylis a jointure make. Your mistress sirrah. Our grace has said it, and it shall be so. We have enough beside in Fairy land. You Thestylis shall be our maid of honour. Come Princely Oberon, I long to taste this Moly: pray bestow The Knighthood of the Mellisonant Tingle tangle, Upon our brother Mopsus, we will raise All of our house to honours. I always thought I was born to be a Queen. Am I deceived and cheated, gulled and fooled? My lands, my livings, and my orchard gone? I am beholding to your liberality. I shall grow wiser. Brother, aread, what means his graces favour? I did not think there had been such delight In any mortal Morrice, they do caper Like quarter Fairies at the least: by my Knighthood, And by this sweet Mellisonant Tingle tangle, The ensign of my glory, you shall be Of Oberons Revels. Surely mortal, Thou art not fit for any office there.