_Char_. Come, y'are ingenyous, And I confes th'ast conquerd, thoughe I knowe Thy father houlds as much unworthynes As may excusse tyrranye in a prynce: Yet for thys goodnes & thys industrye, Th'example of the sweetest disposytion, For all th'offences yet reveald unto me I freelye pardon hym. _Bus_. And you are good And like your selfe, a verye god[103] in pyttie. _Ber_. And from thys mercye I will new create In me a spyrrytt full of humblenes. _Enter La Fue in gallantrye_. _Fue_. Roame there & uncover, gentyllmen. I that am myne owne gentyllman usher am the best gentyllman in _Fraunce_ at thys present. Give place & avoyde these. _Bus_. What meanes the peasant? syrha, are you madd? _Fue_. Yes, and I were halfe nakt as you are. Roame I say!--O my sweete harte, I will [_Offers to kisse Charli_.] kysse thy whyte lipps in the syght of thys whole assemblye. _Char_. Avaunte, I say! what meanes thys lunatycke. _Tur_. Pore sott howe hees deceyvd! th'inchauntments vanyshed.-- Syrha learne better manners. _Fue_. How! syrha to my greatnes! I am not in case to carrye your tokens. Ould man, you had better manners when last I lefte you.--Come, sweete love, I will love thee without more intreatye. Let us withdrawe & in pryvate rumynat our selves together. _Char_. Is there no whypps for knaves are impudent? Thys sawcynes will make your skynne [to] smarte. _Fue_. Away, away! Y'are an ould man & should be wyse. I tell you I was not in love with you tyll you doated on me; to drawe me into a fooles paradysse[104] & there leave me is not an honest man's parte nor a good chrystyans. _Char_. What kynde of madnes call you thys? for shame! Shall I be torturd with hym? _Tur_. Tys but a rude grosse weaknes, which anon Ile shoe at full unto your majestie. _Fue_. Come, sweete _Charles_, I knowe thou lovest me, & love will creepe where it cannot goe. Come, letts condole together. _Char_. Yes, if I like your example. Goe presentlye And give him fortye lashes: make hym bleede Soundlye, away with hym! _Fue_. Howe, howe, how! fortye lashes! so I shall bleede to deathe. Call you that soundlye? Foote! I am sicke with thought on't. _Char_. Away with hym! And if a prate, see that you dooble them: Away! _Fue_. Well I will never trust the wooeinge of a great man whylst I live agayne: & they be as false to weomen as to men they have sweete eeles to hould by. _Char_. Yet has a leave to prate? _Tur_. Away with hym, --But on your lives give hym no punyshment. [_Ex. Fue. & guard_. _Char_. I have not seene a madnes of thys nature: But let him smarte for't.--_Eudon_, give comand That _Ganelon_ attend me presentlye. But, stay-- What sollemp sound is thys? I am prevented. [_Dead marche_.]--_Funeral sounde. Enter Orlando, Reinaldo leading Ganelon, Oliver, Didier; two herses, one with Eldegr. & Gab., the other Richard_. The cause of thys?