_Ba._ Shuld I be brief & true, thẽ thus my _Dicke_, All Englands grounds yeelds not a blyther Lasse. Nor _Europ_ can art her for her gifts, 610 Of vertue, honour, beautie, and the rest: But our fṏd king not knowing sin in lust, Makes loue by endlesse meanes and precious gifts, And men that see it dare not sayt my friend, But wee may wish that it were otherwise: But I rid thee to view the picture still, For by the persons sights there hangs som ill. _Ba._ Oh good sir _Bartram_, you suspect I loue, Then were I mad, hee whom I neuer sawe, But how so ere, I feare not entisings, 620 Desire will giue no place vnto a king: Ile see her whom the world admires so much, That I may say with them, there liues none such. _Bar._ Be Gad and sal, both see and talke with her, And when th’ hast done, what ere her beautie be, Ile wartant thee her vertues may compare, With the proudest she that waits vpon your Queen. _Eu._ My Ladie intreats your Worship in to supper. _Ba._ Guid bony _Dick_, my wife will tel thee more, Was neuer no man in her booke before: 630 Be Gad shees blyth, faire lewely, bony, &c. _Exeunt._ _Enter ~Bohan~ and the fairy king after the first act, to _II. Chor._ them a rownd of Fairies, or some prittie dance._ _Boh._ Be Gad gramersis little king for this, This sport is better in my exile life, Then euer the deceitfuil werld could yeeld. _Ober._ I tell thee _Bohan_, _Oberon_ is king, Of quiet, pleasure, profit, and content, Of wealth, of honor, and of all the world, 640 Tide to no place, yet all are tide to one, Liue thou in this life, exilde from world and men, And I will shew thee wonters ere we part, _Boh._ Then marke my stay, and the strange doubts, That follow flatterers, lust and lawlesse will, And then say I haue reason to forsake theworld, And all that are within the same. Gow shrowd vs in our harbor where weele see, The pride of folly, as it ought to be. _Exeunt._ 650 _After the first act._ _Ober._ Here see I good fond actions in thy gyg, And meanes to paint the worldes in constant waies But turne thine ene, see which for I can commaund. _Enter two battailes strongly fighting, the one ~Simi Ranus~, the other, ~Staurobates~, she flies, and her Crowne is taken, and she hurt._ _Boh._ What gars this din of mirk and balefull harme, Where euery weane is all betaint with bloud? _Ober._ This shewes thee _Bohan_ what is worldly pompe. 660 _Simeranus_, the proud Assirrian Queene, When _Ninus_ died, did tene in her warres, Three millions of footemen to the fight, Fiue hundreth thousand horse, of armed chars, A hundreth thousand more yet in her pride Was hurt and conquered by _S. Taurobates_. Then what is pompe?