_Boh._ Ah say, what's thou? _Ober._ Thy friend, Bohan. _Boh._ What wot I or reck I that? whay, guid man, I reck no friend nor ay reck no foe; als ene to me. Git thee ganging, and trouble not may whayet,[241] or ays gar[242] thee recon me nene of thay friend, by the Mary mass, sall I! _Ober._ Why, angry Scot, I visit thee for love; then what moves thee to wrath? _Boh._ The de'il a whit reck I thy love; for I know too well that true love took her flight twenty winter sence to heaven, whither till ay can, weel I wot, ay sal ne'er find love: an thou lovest me, leave me to myself. But what were those puppets that hopped and skipped about me year whayle?[243] _Ober._ My subjects. _Boh._ Thay subjects! whay, art thou a king? _Ober._ I am. _Boh._ The de'il thou art! whay, thou lookest not so big as the King of Clubs, nor so sharp as the King of Spades, nor so fain as the King a Daymonds: be the mass, ay take thee to be the king of false hearts; therefore I rid[244] thee away, or ayse so curry your kingdom that you's be glad to run to save your life. _Ober._ Why, stoical Scot, do what thou darest to me: here is my breast, strike. _Boh._ Thou wilt not threap[245] me, this whinyard[246] has gard many better men to lope then thou! [_Tries to draw his sword._] But how now! Gos sayds, what, will't not out? Whay, thou witch, thou de'il! Gad's fute, may whinyard! _Ober._ Why, pull, man: but what an 'twere out, how then? _Boh._ This, then,--thou weart best be gone first; for ay'l so lop thy limbs that thou's go with half a knave's carcass to the de'il. _Ober._ Draw it out: now strike, fool, canst thou not? _Boh._ Bread ay gad, what de'il is in me? Whay, tell me, thou skipjack, what art thou? _Ober._ Nay, first tell me what thou wast from thy birth, what thou hast passed hitherto, why thou dwellest in a tomb and leavest the world; and then I will release thee of these bonds; before, not. _Boh._ And not before! then needs must, needs sall. I was born a gentleman of the best blood in all Scotland, except the king. When time brought me to age, and death took my parents, I became a courtier; where, though ay list not praise myself, ay engraved the memory of Bohan on the skin-coat of some of them, and revelled with the proudest. _Ober._ But why, living in such reputation, didst thou leave to be a courtier? _Boh._ Because my pride was vanity, my expense loss, my reward fair words and large promises, and my hopes spilt; for that after many years' service one outran me; and what the de'il should I then do there? No, no; flattering knaves, that can cog and prate fastest, speed best in the court. _Ober._ To what life didst thou then betake thee?