_Orl_. No; what advauntage? the emperour's eares are glewed Gaynst althyngs but hys passyons. _Did_. Great Sir, no; The vyolence of hys passyon notwithstandinge, Havinge hys deathe-slayne mistres in hys armes, He heares all causes criminall as if She did but slumber by hym. _Oli_. Tys an offerd meanes To bringe your foe in hatred with the emperour Revyve your hopes. _Orl_. As cordyalls doe call backe A dyinge man from hys aproachynge peace To make h[im suffer] still the mysseryes Of hys allmost past sycknes. I reffuse it, And by my suffrynge nowe will shewe my selfe Too noble to complayne. I neare coulde fynde Pleasure or ease in others punishment, Or if I were so base to take delighte In the afflyctions of another man My fate would guard me from't, for tys decreed That onlye I of all mankynde shall neare Be master of a hope shall have successe: So all the opposytion I can make Would onlye make my greives rydiculous And dyvorce pyttye from theym. Neare will I. [_Ex. Orlando_. _Did_. Heres a straunge humor! _Oli_. I, but let it not Deterre you from hys accusatyon. _Did_. Ile justefye what I have sayd. _Rei_. Doe so, And bothe myne entertaynment and rewarde Shall pay thy love and faythe. [_Ex. all but Didier_. _Did_. I doe not like Thys entertaynment at the second hande: It looks like barbers physicke, muddylie. Is thys a welcome worthye of the love I have exprest? Had I tooke up hys hauke Or matcht a coatch-horse for hym suche a servyce Had deserved more respect then he gives me. I like a wise man have lefte certayne meanes, For hop't preferments: 'twas dyscreetlye doone And ledd by vertue too. Thys vertue is The scurvyest, harlottryest, undoeinge thynge That ever mixte with rysinge courtyers thoughts. But t'has a cursse. It is impossyble Ere to gett into _Ganelon_ agayne, Havinge not onlye not performd hys will But tould hys purpose. And howe slyghte so ere The earle of _Angeres_ houlds thys accusatyon, T'will be examynd: therefore I must throughe-- But howe? thoughe it be true I cannot prove it By other testymonie then myne owne; And that hys owne denyall will bereave me Of the beleife due to it. Yet will I stand too't styll: To deter vyce heaven gives a power to will. _Enter Ganelon_. _Gan_. Y'are well mett. _Did_. I thanke you. _Gan_. Th'art a vyllayne. _Did_. It may be so; your lordshypp can defyne me If you would shewe your readinge or your practyse. _Gan_. _Orlando_ is retournd. _Did_. Tys well. _Gan_. It is; But it had beene better for your perjurd roaugshipp Your harte had gordgd a hauke. _Did_. Wa, ha ho, man! Your buzarde is a kynde of byrde of prey, Your lordship knowes too, that will feede on all Unable to outflye or to resist, But suche pursued her basenes and her sloathe At once apeare. You understand me, sir? _Gan_. Nowe a leane castrell[89] ceyze thee? Arte thou flesht? Must naught encounter you but byrds of rapyne?