Did. What! passyonate in rhyme? I must be taught To give attendance on the full-fedd guest![83] … … … … …
Bus. You may be dambd
For useing sorcerye upon the kynge.
That naturell heate, which is the cause and nurse
Of younge desyers, his pallsye hath shooke of,
And all the able facultyes of man
Are fled his frost of age to that extreame
Theres not enough to cherrish a desyer
Left in his saplesse nerves.
Did. In this your worshypp
Gives my hopes illustratyon. Age must doate
To a Judgments dearth that may be cheated on
Yet that cheate rest unquestyond. Doe you heare?
The kynge is beinge maryed to your aunte
Hathe bounde hys fortunes to my lord, and he
Will, like a ryver that so long retaynes
The oceans bounty that at last it seemes
To be it selfe a sea, receyve and keepe
The comon treasure; and in such a floode,
Whose thycknes would keepe up what naturullye
Covetts the center, can you hope Ile synke?
Bus. Hell take thy hopes and thee!
Did. But I would have
You understand that I may rise agayne
Without the catchinge of a rotten boarde
To keepe bare life and mysserye together
To fyght eche other.
Bus. Furyes fryght thy soule!
Is a good mans ill fate thy nourishment?
Noble Orlando, what omynous fatell starre
Ruld thy nativitie that fire must be
Strooke out of Ice to ruyne all thy hopes:
This marriage is their grave.
Did. Sir, I may rayse A broken state by service.
Bus. Yes, of the devyll
To whom thou art a factor. Slave, 'tis thou
That hast undoone my father and increast
His evyll inclinatyons. I have seene
Your conference with witches, night-spell knaves,
Connivynge mountebanks and the damned frye
Of cheating mathematicks. And is this
The issue of your closse contryvances[84]?
If in thys p[ro]myst throng of future ill
There may be found a way to anye good
Of brave Orlando the great palladyne,
My constant industry shall tyer the day
And outwatche night but I will fynde it for hym;
And yf to doe hym good—
Enter La Fue.
Fue. Where's Didier?