Char. Come, y'are ingenyous,
And I confes th'ast conquerd, thoughe I knowe
Thy father houlds as much unworthynes
As may excusse tyrranye in a prynce:
Yet for thys goodnes & thys industrye,
Th'example of the sweetest disposytion,
For all th'offences yet reveald unto me
I freelye pardon hym.
Bus. And you are good And like your selfe, a verye god[103] in pyttie.
Ber. And from thys mercye I will new create In me a spyrrytt full of humblenes.
Enter La Fue in gallantrye.
Fue. Roame there & uncover, gentyllmen. I that am myne owne gentyllman usher am the best gentyllman in Fraunce at thys present. Give place & avoyde these.
Bus. What meanes the peasant? syrha, are you madd?
Fue. Yes, and I were halfe nakt as you are. Roame I say!—O my sweete harte, I will [Offers to kisse Charli.] kysse thy whyte lipps in the syght of thys whole assemblye.
Char. Avaunte, I say! what meanes thys lunatycke.
Tur. Pore sott howe hees deceyvd! th'inchauntments vanyshed.— Syrha learne better manners.
Fue. How! syrha to my greatnes! I am not in case to carrye your tokens. Ould man, you had better manners when last I lefte you.—Come, sweete love, I will love thee without more intreatye. Let us withdrawe & in pryvate rumynat our selves together.