TROT. O captain, captain! yonder is the mad Orlando the furious, and I think he takes me for----What do you call him? CAPT. What, Medor?[31] TROT. Ay, ay, Medor: the devil Medor him, he has so nuddled[32] me----O, here he comes: I'll be gone. [_Exit._ _Enter_ GIOVANNO. GIO. Stay, satyr, stay; you are too light of foot, I cannot reach your paces, prythee, stay. What goddess have you there? Sure, 'tis Evadne! Are you the dragons that ne'er sleep, but watch The golden fruit of the Hesperides? Ha! then I am Hercules; fly ye! Sure, That face dwelt on Evadne's shoulders. [_He beats them off, and unbinds_ EVADNE. EVAD. O thou preserver of near-lost Evadne! What must my weakness pay? GIO. 'Tis [she,] 'tis she; she must not know I'm mad. EVAD. Assist me, some good pow'r; it is my friend. [_Aside._] Make me but wise enough to resolve myself. GIO. It may be 'tis not she; I'll ask her name. What are you call'd, sweet goddess? EVAD. They that know me mortal term me Evadne. GIO. 'Tis she: ay, ay, 'tis she. EVAD. Pray you, sir, unto the bond of what I owe you, which is a poor distressed virgin's life, add this one debt: [tell me,] what are you? GIO. Not worth your knowledge: I am a poor, a very, very poor despised thing: but say, I pray, are you sure your name's Evadne? EVAD. 'Tis questionless my tailor. [_Aside._] I am she; receive me to your arms not alter'd in my heart, though in my clothes. GIO. I do believe you, indeed I do; but stay, I don't. Are you a maid, a virgin, pray, tell me? for my Evadne could not tell a lie; speak, I shall love you, though that jewel's gone. EVAD. I am as spotless, thank your happy self that sav'd Me from those robbers, as the child which yet Is but a jelly, 'tis so young. GIO. No more, no more, trust me, I do believe you. [They are] so many slaves, whose flaming appetites Would in one night ravish a throng of virgins, And never feel digression in their heat. I'll after, and murder all. EVAD. How do you? GIO. Well, very well: belike, you think I am mad. EVAD. You look distractedly. GIO. 'Tis but your thoughts; indeed I am wondrous well. How fair she looks after so foul a deed! It cannot be she should be false to me: No, thou art mad to think so. Fool, O fool! Think'st thou those slaves, having so fair a mark, Would not be shooting? Yes, they would: they have. Evadne is fly-blown: I cannot love her. [_Aside._] EVAD. What say you, sweet? GIO. The innocence that sits upon that face Says she is chaste; the guilty cannot speak So evenly as she does: guilty, said I? Alas! it were not her fault, were she ravish'd. O madness, madness! whither wilt thou bear me? [_Aside._] EVAD. His senses are unsettled; I'll go seek Some holy man to rectify his wits. Sweet, will you go unto some hermit's cell? You look as you lack'd rest.