[SCENE 2.]
Enter Oliver.
Oli. The hower is past, the place & cyrcomstance
And all the formes of manhood(?) are expyrd,
And yet younge Richard comes not. Tys most straunge:
He is as valyent as is victorye,
And dare uppon a roughe say [sea?] hye as heaven
Court all amazed daunger. Nowe to fayle
Is past all revelatyon: suer as deathe
Our whole plott is reveeld.
Enter Reinaldo.
Rei. Howe nowe, cossen? suer the hower is past? Yet no newse of my brother: as I live The youth is valyent, feare deters hym not.
Oli. Suer as deathe, our plott is all disclosd.
And that there was no meanynge in the feighte,
But onlye to withdrawe him from hys frend
On whom he doats toe dearlye.
Rei. Suer tys so,
And it will vexe the noble palladyne
Above the heyghte of madnes; nay, beleiv't
T'will chaunge opynion to a constant faythe
Of hys extreame mysfortunes. See a comes.
Enter Orlando.
Orl. Howe now, my lords? howe speede your noble plotts?
What, have you woone younge Richard from hys frend?
Tell me whose eloquence hathe doone the deede
And I will honor hym.
Oli. He hathe forborne th'incounter, and in that Hathe drownd us in amazement: we suppose Our plotts discoverd.
Orl. No more, keepe backe the rest,
For I can read misfortunes in your browes.
Vengeance consume theise projects! they are basse,
And bassnes ever more doth second theym;
The noble youthe smyle at our follyes, nay,
Scornes the base languadge that you uttered,
Which is by thys tyme with the emperoure.
O twas a speedinge way to doe us shame!
Rei. Take truce with passyon: I dare bouldlye sweare There is some other mysterye.
Oli. At worst
Ile make it for our purposse every way
And even kill the soule of Ganelon.
With talkinge of the cowardyse, so that you
Houlde patyence for a mynute.
Orl. Patyence!
Preache it to cynicks or greene sycknes gyrles
That have not blood enough to make a blushe
Or forme an acte might cause one. I have longe
Like to a reelinge pynetree shooke the earthe
That I was rooted in, but nowe must fall
And be no longer the fatts tennys ball.
Rei. Come be more temperd, you shall see from thys
Sprynge pleasure that you wishe for. Olyver
Shall instantlye upbrayd false Ganelon
With Rychards muche unworthynes.
Oli. Thats decreed
For in such tearms I meane to sett hym fourthe
As shall even burst hys gall with agonye:
Nay, it shall make hym never darre t'apeare
Where men resorte, or knowe ought but hys feare.
Orl. You have lardge promysses, but acts as slowe As dyalls hands that are not seene to goe.
[Exeunt.