_Boh._ Bread ay gad, what deele is in me, whay tell mee thou skipiack what art thou? _Ober._ Nay first tell me what thou wast from thy birth, what 40 thou hast past hitherto, why thou dwellest in a Tombe, & leauest the world? and then I will release thee of these bonds, before not. _Boh._ And not before, then needs must needs sal: I was borne a gentleman of the best bloud in all _Scotland_, except the king, when time brought me to age, and death tooke my parents, I became a Courtier, where though ay list not praise my selfe, ay engraued the memory of _Boughon_ on the skin-coate of some of them, and reueld with the proudest. _Ober._ But why liuing in such reputation, didst thou leaue to 50 be a Courtier? _Boh._ Because my pride was vanitie, my expence losse, my reward faire words and large promises, & my hopes spilt, for that after many yeares seruice, one outran me, and what the deele should I then do there. No no, flattering knaues that can cog and prate fastest, speede best in the Court. _Ober._ To what life didst thou then betake thee? _Boh._ I then chang’d the Court for the countrey, and the wars for a wife: but I found the craft of swaines more vile, then the knauery of courtiers: the charge of children more heauie then 60 seruants, and wiues tongues worse then the warres it selfe: and therefore I gaue ore that, & went to the Citie to dwell, & there I kept a great house with smal cheer, but all was nere the neere. _Ober._ And why? _Boh._ because in seeking friends, I found table guests to eate me, & my meat, my wiues gossops to bewray the secrets of my heart, kindred to betray the effect of my life, which when I noted, the court ill, the country worse, and the citie worst of all, in good time my wife died: ay wood she had died twentie winter sooner by the masse, leauing my two sonnes to the world, and 70 shutting my selfe into this Tombe, where if I dye, I am sure I am safe from wilde beasts, but whilest I liue, cannot be free frṏ ill companie. Besides, now I am sure gif all my friends faile me, I sall haue a graue of mine owne prouiding: this is all. Now what art thou? _Ober._ _Oberon_ King of Fayries, that loues thee because thou hatest the world, and to gratulate thee, I brought those Antiques to shew thee some sport in daunsing, which thou haste loued well. _Bohan._ Ha, ha, ha, thinkest thou those puppits can please 80 me? whay I haue two sonnes, that with one scottish gigge shall breake the necke of thy Antiques. _Ober._ That would I faine see. _Boha._ Why thou shalt, howe boyes. _Enter Slipper and Nano._ Haud your clacks lads, trattle not for thy life, but gather vppe your legges and daunce me forthwith a gigge worth the sight. _Slip._ Why I must talk on Idy fort, wherefore was my tongue made. _Boha._ Prattle an thou darst ene word more, and ais dab this 90 whiniard in thy wembe.