Rich. What meanes my Ganelon?
Gan. Faythe to be playne
And not to wrong the love, which I have founde
Ever in thee, with any further doute,
My love would have thee call a kynge thy sonne
And gett him of my sister. Startst thou backe?
Come, I doe knowe thou lovest her with thy soule
And has syght for her often. Now enjoy,
And doe not stande amazd: if thou refuse,
Then my hopes like the flower of flaxe receyve
Their byrthe and grave together; for by heaven
To be made monarke of the unyverse
And lorde of all claspt in the seagods armes,
I would not have her toucht unlesse by thee:
And if the thoughts of men were scrutable
To man and mongst men might be knowne to me,
The foole that should attempt her but in thoughte
[Could]e better hand-bounde wrastell with the sea.
… … … … …
But yet my love doth offer her to thee,
And tys rejected.
Rich. You mistake me, sweete:
I am all yours and what you shall thynke fytt
Ile cease to questyon, yet my contyence calls
It a disloyall and a monstrous fact.
Gan. Tutt, a prosperous synne is nowe a vertuous acte; Let not that starte you.
Rich. I am confyrm'd, but yet the Emp[e]resse—
Gan. Why, knowe not I howe deare she valewes you,
And but for thys hope would not live an hower.
Come, her consent shall flye to meet your wishes
And locke you in saftie. In the nexte roome
Stay me a littill.—Now my projects goe [Exit Richard.
Uprighte and steddye. Let me style my selfe
(And proudlye too) the mynion of the fates.
The emperoure knytts newe honors to my house,
Whylst to my bloode I seeke to bynde hys crowne
And cheate hys lawfull heyre; and synce the lawe
Makes all legitimate in wedlocke borne,
By whom so ere begott, the way is even
Unto my future blysse and earthlye heaven.—
And see howe luckily this fellow comes!
Happynes courtts me.
Enter Didier.
Did. My most honoured lord.
Gan. O Didier, the famous nephewe unto Charles, The onlye heyre and hope of fruytfull Fraunce, Famous Orlando, is returninge home.
Did. So tys given out.