Orl.  And so it had,
But that my Fortune knewe my deathe woulde be
Toe greate a blessinge for me & remove
The object of her envye past her spleene. 
What wretchednes is thys! haveinge indeede
All the worlds mysseryes that have a name,
A new one out of pyttie must be founde
To adde to infynitts.  My heavy cursse,
But that’t would be a blessynge, shoulde rewarde thee;
And for thy disobedyence to thy lorde
Ile torture thee, for I will wish thee well.

Did.  Did ever mans preservatyon plauge [sic] hym thus?  Wonder confounds me.

Rei.  My most worthye cossen, Will you not take advantage of thys plott?

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.