_Did_.--True, except a man searche the Idyotts hospytall. _Char_. Thou never shalt goe from me. _Fue_. O yes, by all meanes. Shall my master say I ranne away like a rascall? No, you shall give me leave to take my leave. That ceremonye performd, I'm yours tyll doomes day. _Char_. I cannot live without thee. _Fue_. Ile not stay a day at furthest. _Char_. I darre denye thee nothynge. Kysse & goe: Thynke how I languyshe for thee. _Fue_. And I will condole in recyprocall kyndnes. _Char_. Bishopp, attend my dearest. _Tur_. Greate Sir, I was toe impudent even nowe To trooble you with my token; good Sir, please To give it me agayne: a meaner man Shall serve my humble messadge. _Fue_. Bishopp, I doe voutsafe it; theres thy ringe. [_Gives him the ringe_. _Tur_.--And you agayne a basse most scurvye thynge. [_Exe. Turp., Fue_. _Enter La Busse_. _Char_. Howe nowe, _La Busse_? What newse from _Ganelon_? _Bus_. Suche as can come from sorrowe: he is all Wretchednes and mysfortune, and in me Speaks to your sacred goodnes to be pleasd Voutsafe to call your fayre dove to your fyst (Mercye I meane) that may abate the stroake Of your sharpe eagle justyce, and you will Be wrytt the best of prynces. _Char_. Come, no more: Your fathers sentence is irrevocable. _Bus_. Yet, gratyous Sir, sende hym hys honors backe And for those fewe pore howers he hathe to breathe Let hym injoy those deare companyons. _Char_. You are the good sonne of an evyll man And I comend your vertue, but thys suyte Is past all restytution: to thys prynce I've given all your father governed. _Rich_. Which, royall sir? _Char_. Cossen, no more; I know your modesty. ... ... ... your languadge; hees my foe That next solycytts me for _Ganelon_. _Bus_. O doe not make me, sir, be impyous, For shoulde your breathe crushe me to attomyes, Yet whylst my memorye can call hym father I must invocke you for hym. _Char_. Which to prevent Take my last resolutyon, & from it Swearve not in thyne alleagance: when thou shalt Meete me uppon a way was never usd By horse nor man, and thou thy selfe dost ryde On neyther horsse, mare, asse, & yet thy beast An usuall thynge for burthen, thou thy selfe Neyther uncloathd nor naked, & shalt brynge Thy greatest frend & greatest enemye Coopld for thy companyons; then I vowe To doe thy father honor, but tyll then My mallyce hangs about hym.--Come, coossen, attend us. [_Exe. Char., Rich_. _Bus_. Then dye, pore _Ganelon_. When I shall meete The kynge on no hye way, when I shall ryde Uppon no beast & yet a beast of burthen, Be neyther nakt nor cloathed, in my hande My greatest frende & greatest enemye; And but then get his favor. There is no sphynxe That can absolve thys ryddell: well, tys decreed Ile breake my brayne but Ile performe the deede. _Did_. Sir, would it were in me to helpe your fortune.