_Orl_. Sir, to let passe somethynge without your power
Nowe to be remedyed, I am persuaded
(Thoughe I persuade my selfe to littill purposse)
To tell you of a practyse gainst my life
By _Ganelon_.

_Char_. Call hym; you shall be hearde,
You are to me toe pretyous to take wronge.
Yet, nephewe, be advisd, for you doe knowe
That indyrect surmyses more abuse
And in that strange abuse more deeplye wounde
An inocent brest then proves a guyltie one.

_Orl_. Sir, I best knowe howe muche abusses wounde
An inocent brest: myne keepes a register
With corsives charactred on everye syde
Of the griefe drinkinge pap[er]. But I say,
Were _Ganelon_ here--

_Enter Ganelon_.

_Gan_. As he is, my lorde,
To aunswere everye thynge your abusd nature,
The mallyce of thys slave or of the world,
Can charge me with. Speak then the uttermost.

_Orl_. I say you are a man that haveinge longe
Practysd agaynst myne honor in myne absence
At last didst deale with thys just gentyllman