Did. How say you by that?
Orl. Ganelon's servant! Will it not suffyce
The mallyce of my starres to presse me downe
With a most pondrous wayghte of injuryes
But they must keepe me wakinge with the syghte
O' th'authors on't, to myxe my sufferings
With heate and anger? Syrha, howe dare you
Upbrayd me with your presence? or doe you thynke
My wrongs and fortune have made me so tame
That I am a fytt subject for your spleene,
Your trencher envye & reverssyon rage?
Or arte so greate an Infydell to doute
My mischeifes snayle-pacst that thou spurst on newe
In full carryere uppon me?
Did. I disclayme Ganelons servyce other then to serve Your worthye ends, which is the onlye end Whertoe I ere seemd hys.
Bus. Monstrous deceytfull vyllayne!
Orl. Impossyble!
I cannot be so happye, & if thou
Beare but the least affectyon to my cause,
Thy fortunes like thy trenchers wilbe chaungd
To a sordyd foulenes that will loathe thy nature.
Did. For that no matter, I darre fortunes worst
In ryghte of vertue; & if you'le be pleased
Thys screane may be removed that keepes away
All comfortable heate from everye man
Which he stands neare, Ile tell you thyngs that shall
Confyrme you I am yours.
Orl. He shall not goe, Nor can I hope successe in any thynge (More then my sworde), & muche lesse be confyrmed.
Oli. Pray, sir, withdrawe.
Rei. Althoughe I thynke thys fellowe meanes no good We may dyscover & prevent hys ill: Pray leave us, sir.
Bus. I will; but yet beware That fellowe. [Exit La Busse.