_Mand._ Such as both love and fury do confound: Fierce Sacripant, incens'd with strange desires, Wars on Marsilius, and, Rodomont being dead, Hath levied all his men, and traitor-like Assails his lord and loving sovereign: And Mandricard, who late hath been in arms To prosecute revenge against Marsilius, Is now through favours past become his friend. Thus stands the state of matchless India. _Ogier._ Palmer, I like thy brave and brief discourse; And, couldst thou bring us to the prince's camp, We would acknowledge friendship at thy hands. _Mars._ Ye stranger lords, why seek ye out Marsilius? _Ogier._ In hope that he, whose empire is so large, Will make both mind and monarchy agree. _Mars._ Whence are you, lords, and what request you here? _Namus._ A question over-haughty for thy weed, Fit for the king himself for to propound. _Mand._ O, sir, know that under simple weeds The gods have mask'd: then deem not with disdain To answer to this palmer's question, Whose coat includes perhaps as great as yours. _Ogier._ Haughty their words, their persons full of state; Though habit be but mean, their minds excel.-- Well, palmers, know that princes are in India arriv'd, Yea, even those western princely peers of France That through the world adventures undertake, To find Orlando late incens'd with rage. Then, palmers, sith you know our styles and state, Advise us where your king Marsilius is. _Mars._ Lordings of France, here is Marsilius, That bids you welcome into India, And will in person bring you to his camp. _Ogier._ Marsilius! and thus disguis'd! _Mars._ Even Marsilius, and thus disguis'd. But what request these princes at my hand? _Turpin._ We sue for law and justice at thy hand: We seek Angelica thy daughter out; That wanton maid, that hath eclips'd the joy Of royal France, and made Orlando mad. _Mars._ My daughter, lords! why, she is exil'd; And her griev'd father is content to lose The pleasance of his age, to countenance law. _Oliver._ Not only exile shall await Angelica, But death and bitter death shall follow her. Then yield us right, Marsilius, or our swords Shall make thee fear to wrong the peers of France. _Mars._ Words cannot daunt me, princes, be assur'd; But law and justice shall o'er-rule in this, And I will bury father's name and love. The hapless maid, banish'd from out my land, Wanders about in woods and ways unknown: Her, if ye find, with fury persecute; I now disdain the name to be her father. Lords of France, what would you more of me? _Ogier._ Marsilius, we commend thy princely mind, And will report thy justice through the world.-- Come, peers of France, let's seek Angelica, Left for a spoil to our revenging thoughts. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II.--_A Grove._