Okean. But in due forethought with bold daring blent,
What mischief see'st thou lurking? Tell me this.
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Prom. Toil bootless, and simplicity full fond.
Okean. Let me, I pray, that sickness suffer, since
'Tis best being wise to have not wisdom's show.
Prom. Nay, but this error shall be deemed as mine.
Okean. Thy word then clearly sends me home at once.
Prom. Yea, lest thy pity for me make a foe....
Okean. What! of that new king on his mighty throne?