Boh. What meaneth this?
Ober. Cyrus of Persia,
Mighty in life, within a marble grave
Was laid to rot; whom Alexander once
Beheld entomb'd, and weeping did confess,
Nothing in life could 'scape from wretchedness:
Why, then, boast men?
Boh. What reck I, then, of life,
Who make the grave my home, the earth my wife?
But mark me more.
3.
Boh. I can no more; my patience will not warp
To see these flatterers how they scorn and carp.
Ober. Turn but thy head.
Enter four Kings carrying crowns, Ladies presenting odours to Potentate enthroned, who suddenly is slain by his Servants and thrust out; and so they eat. [Exeunt.
Boh. Sike is the werld; but whilk is he I saw?
Ober. Sesostris, who was conqueror of the world,
Slain at the last and stamp'd on by his slaves.
Boh. How blest are peur men, then, that know their graves!
Now mark the sequel of my jig.
(4.)[260]
Boh. An he weel meet ends. The mirk and sable night
Doth leave the peering morn to pry abroad;
Thou nill me stay: hail, then, thou pride of kings!
I ken the world, and wot well worldly things.
Mark thou my jig, in mirkest terms that tells
The loath of sins and where corruption dwells.
Hail me ne mere with shows of guidly sights;
My grave is mine,—that rids me from despites.
(5.)
Boh. Accept my jig, guid king, and let me rest;
The grave with guid men is a gay-built nest.
Ober. The rising sun doth call me hence away;
Thanks for thy jig, I may no longer stay:
But if my train did wake thee from thy rest
So shall they sing thy lullaby to nest. [Exeunt.