Char.  Your memoryes toe blame; you doe mistake.

Orl.  O that I could mistake or never thynke
Uppon thys daylie terror to my sence. 
Sir, tys a thyng I labour to mystake
But cannot, for my starrs will have it thus.

Char.  You wronge your fortunes and convert theire good Into a stronge disease.

Orl.  So pray you tourne me then into an hospytall,
I have a straunge disease.  But, gratyous Sir,
Littill thought I, when I departed hence
And conquerd you all Spayne, to tourne diseasd.

Char.  Be patyent, and Ile undertake the cuer.

Orl.  Oh I should shame your physsycke, though indeede
Tys the kyngs evyll I am trobled with,
But such a rare kyngs evyll that I feare
My chyldrens chyldren wilbe taynted with’t.

Rei.—­A touches hym most bouldlye.

Oli.—­Even to the quycke of hys last maryadge.

Orl.  Beleive’t, my sycknes is like the disease
Which runns styll in a blood, nay more extreame,
For frends and kyndred bothe must feele my cursse: 
But what good man can well escape a cursse
When Emperours, that should be absolute,
Will take advyse from everye shyftinge sycophant?

Gan.  Mallyce and factyon could have sayd no more.

Orl.  Are you then guyltie of advyse, my lorde?

Gan.  Sir, if the kynge accuse me I submytt.

Char.  I must accuse you bothe, but punnyshe one,
You, Ganelon, I meane:  there dothe belonge
Unto your fault muche more then banishment. 
I heare discharge you of all offyces,
Honors and tyttells or whatere exceeds
The slender name of a pore gentyllman. 
Besyds I fyne you out of your estate
At fortye thousand crownes, and never hence
To see the courte, but live thence banyshed. 
Nephewe, this may suffyce you; if’t be light
Ile lay more burthens on hym.—­Come, best frende.

Orl.  Sir, I desyer no mans miserye.

[Ex.  Cha., Turp.

Gan.  Then welcome once agayne my libertie! 
Nowe, my sweete frend, may I discourse with thee
And utter my dystractyon; only nowe
Can I retayne thee fullye in my bossome. 
Before I was devyded in my selfe,
The emperour and the state did clayme a parte;
But all my frendshypp nowe is undisturbd
And onlye thou shalt have what manye had,
My best imployments and my whole desyers.

Rich.  You are a juell fytter for the State,
And I feare what will followe.  Sure th’emperoure,
Has loosend everye pearle about hys crowne
In loosinge you, the glorye of hys kingdome.

Gan.  No, no, he shall complayne that wantinge me
He wants his refudge, and my glorye then
Shalbe to scorne hys favors whylst my thoughts
Onlye take pleasure in a perfytt frende,
Which is your selfe, that onlye ... to me ... ... enoughe to caper ... ... ...