That he beleives tys doone.

_Orl_. And so it had,
But that my Fortune knewe my deathe woulde be
Toe greate a blessinge for me & remove
The object of her envye past her spleene.
What wretchednes is thys! haveinge indeede
All the worlds mysseryes that have a name,
A new one out of pyttie must be founde
To adde to infynitts. My heavy cursse,
But that't would be a blessynge, shoulde rewarde thee;
And for thy disobedyence to thy lorde
Ile torture thee, for I will wish thee well.

_Did_. Did ever mans preservatyon plauge [sic] hym thus?
Wonder confounds me.

_Rei_. My most worthye cossen,
Will you not take advantage of thys plott?

_Orl_. No; what advauntage? the emperour's eares are glewed
Gaynst althyngs but hys passyons.

_Did_. Great Sir, no;
The vyolence of hys passyon notwithstandinge,
Havinge hys deathe-slayne mistres in hys armes,
He heares all causes criminall as if
She did but slumber by hym.

_Oli_. Tys an offerd meanes