Fue. I hate words I understand not: be that eyther tyers or retyers me may chaunce cursse his journey.
Tur. Styll so angrye? di[d]st never take physsycke?
Fue. P[er]a[dve]nter I have, p[er]a[dve]nter I have not.
Tur. By all meanes doe; choller will kyll thee ells. But to my purposse: heares gould, comend me to thy master and give him thys token from me. [Gives the ringe. You see howe thynges runne; hys frend has all hys honors.
Fue. And you had talkd thus before y'ad never tyerd me.
Tur. Stay, goe not yet, here comes the emperoure.
Fue. Mas, Ile have a syghte on hym.
Enter Charlimayne, Richard, Didier.
Char. Doe not perswade me; cossen, you shall weare The honors I have given; what was Ganelons Onlye belongs to Rychard, he shall weare theym.
Rich. But without ease or comforte.—Good my lorde,
You have a power in hys hyghnes love
Beyond power to interprett: pray you begge
Hys grace will ease thys burthen.