Maud, Puck.
Hath he forsook me?
Puck. At your beck, Madam.
Maud. O Puck, my Goblin! I have lost my Belt,
The strong Thief, Robin Out-law forc'd it from me.
Puck. They are other Clouds and blacker threat you,
Dame;
You must be wary, and pull in your Sails,
And yield unto the Weather of the Tempest.
You think your power's infinite as your malice;
And would do all your anger prompts you to:
But you must wait occasions, and obey them:
Sail in an Egg-shell, make a straw your Mast,
A cobweb all your Cloth, and pass unseen,
Till you have scap'd the Rocks that are about you.
Maud. What Rock's about me?
Puc. I do love, Madam,
To shew you all your dangers, when you are past 'em.
Come, follow me, I'll once more be your Pilot,
And you shall thank me.
Maud. Lucky, my lov'd Goblin!
Where are you gaang, now? [Lorel meets her.
Lor. Unto my Tree,
To see my Maistress. Maud. Gang thy gait, and try
Thy turns, with better luck, or hang thy sel'.