wherein
Hys sworde hathe fyxte them, doone't; so not so much
As bare suspytion ever will attache thee.

_Did_. I'm glad y'ave named me in't; I was afrayde
I should have beene lefte out in that brave acte,
Whereto my proper hate unto _Orlando_
And love to you entyce me equallye.

_Gan_. O by no meanes, whom should I trust but thee;
Tys thou & I must make eche other happye.
Repayre the with thys golde, & for thy paynes
Be equall sharer in my present meanes
And future blessyngs.

_Did_. No more, Sir; Ile dooe't.
I speake it with a confydence whereby
Ide have you say unto your selfe 'tys doone.'

_Gan_. Thanks, my most honest _Didier_.
Other affayres of seryous consequence
Call me; the Empresse must be solicyted
Unto an acte for which I'de loathe her but
My ends have gloryous aymes.

_Did_. Aboute them, Syr, and doute not thys. [_Exit Ganelon_.
Yet methynks it were not fytt in polycie
To venture all in one pore shallowe boate,
The sea of state goeinge so rough and hye.
Factyons in courte are like to suyts in lawe
Where goulde and grace keepe equytie in awe;
And but thys maryadge rules the emperoure,
Who shall protect me in so many ways
Leading to severall and confused ends?
I will keepe no dyrecte one but even wander
As myne owne proper saftie shall direct me.
And though I wishe my lorde may rayse his bloode,
Yet that wishe should give way to myne owne good.

_Enter La Busse, Gabriella and Bertha_.

_Bus_. Save Mounseire _Didier_!

_Did_. Mounseir _La Busse_, my lords most loved sonne,
Your companye is fayre.
[_Exit Didier_.

_Gab_. The fellowe mocks us.

_Bus_. Had a sayd good too, then you might have douted,
But fayr's an epethyte you bothe may challenge.

_Ber_. And why not good?

_Bus_. A courtier might have spared it
And as he is a courtier beene excusd
Thoughe it were false; for he whose tonge and harte
Runne one selfe course shall seldome find the way
To a preferment. Nowe the courte is growne
As strange a beast as the thronged multytude,
Dyffers not from the rabble, onlye tys
The upper house.

_Ber_. Why will you be a lymbe
Of such a beast?

_Bus_. Faythe, onlye for sporte sake.

_Gab_. I rather thynke to make it more deformd.

_Buss_. Be not so bytter, ladye. Howe can I,
Though I shoulde onlye studye vanytie,
Be seene amongst so manye that out-glosse me
In everye severall follye.

_Ber_. Yet littill _Richard, Aimons_ youngest sonne