_Orl_. So pray you tourne me then into an hospytall, I have a straunge disease. But, gratyous Sir, Littill thought I, when I departed hence And conquerd you all Spayne, to tourne diseasd. _Char_. Be patyent, and Ile undertake the cuer. _Orl_. Oh I should shame your physsycke, though indeede Tys the kyngs evyll I am trobled with, But such a rare kyngs evyll that I feare My chyldrens chyldren wilbe taynted with't. _Rei_.--A touches hym most bouldlye. _Oli_.--Even to the quycke of hys last maryadge. _Orl_. Beleive't, my sycknes is like the disease Which runns styll in a blood, nay more extreame, For frends and kyndred bothe must feele my cursse: But what good man can well escape a cursse When Emperours, that should be absolute, Will take advyse from everye shyftinge sycophant? _Gan_. Mallyce and factyon could have sayd no more. _Orl_. Are you then guyltie of advyse, my lorde? _Gan_. Sir, if the kynge accuse me I submytt. _Char_. I must accuse you bothe, but punnyshe one, You, _Ganelon_, I meane: there dothe belonge Unto your fault muche more then banishment. I heare discharge you of all offyces, Honors and tyttells or whatere exceeds The slender name of a pore gentyllman. Besyds I fyne you out of your estate At fortye thousand crownes, and never hence To see the courte, but live thence banyshed. Nephewe, this may suffyce you; if't be light Ile lay more burthens on hym.--Come, best frende. _Orl_. Sir, I desyer no mans miserye. [_Ex. Cha., Turp_. _Gan_. Then welcome once agayne my libertie! Nowe, my sweete frend, may I discourse with thee And utter my dystractyon; only nowe Can I retayne thee fullye in my bossome. Before I was devyded in my selfe, The emperour and the state did clayme a parte; But all my frendshypp nowe is undisturbd And onlye thou shalt have what manye had, My best imployments and my whole desyers. _Rich_. You are a juell fytter for the State, And I feare what will followe. Sure th'emperoure, Has loosend everye pearle about hys crowne In loosinge you, the glorye of hys kingdome. _Gan_. No, no, he shall complayne that wantinge me He wants his refudge, and my glorye then Shalbe to scorne hys favors whylst my thoughts Onlye take pleasure in a perfytt frende, Which is your selfe, that onlye ... to me ... ... enoughe to caper ... ... ... _Orl_. What meanes he by theise frantycke sygnes of myrthe? Cossen _Reinaldo_, cossen _Oliver_, Why does he growe thus guyddie? _Gan_. What says the emperours nephewe? does he grudge That I should take a pore content in shame? Your envye will discredite you, my lorde. Gentyllmen, have you not hearde of _Aesopps_ dogge That once lay snarlinge in the oxes maunger? _Orl. Rei. Oli_. What then? _Gan_. He was an arrant peevyshe curre, Nothynge but so; and I protest syncerlye I would have hangd that dogge (had he beene myne) Althoughe a lyonnesse had beene hys dame. _Orl_. Your dogs comparysons a saucye foole.