Chorus258
Enter Bohan and Oberon; to them a round of Fairies, or some pretty dance.
Boh. Be Gad, gramercies, little king, for this;
This sport is better in my exile life
Than ever the deceitful werld could yield.
Ober. I tell thee, Bohan, Oberon is king
Of quiet, pleasure, profit, and content,
Of wealth, of honour, and of all the world;
Tied to no place,—yet all are tied to one.
Live thou this life, exil’d from world and men,
And I will show thee wonders ere we part.
Boh. Then mark my story, and the strange doubts
That follow flatterers, lust, and lawless will,
And then say I have reason to forsake
The world and all that are within the same.
Go shroud us in our harbour, where we’ll see
The pride of folly, as it ought to be. [Exeunt.
After the first Act.