There is some cyrcomstance but no due proofe,
And from that grounde my nephewe shall perceyve
Howe dearlye I doe pryze him. _Ganelon_,
Hencefourthe you never more shall see the courte:
Yare banysht thence. You have a cuntrye house,
Let that receyve you: when you thence departe
Your life is forfayte. Away!

_Gan_. I doe obay
Your Majestye.
[_Exe. Gan., La Busse_.

_Orl_. Is thys a punishment?

_Rei_. Tys a disgrace, best cossen.

_Did_. And noble bloode
Hathe more sence of disgrace then wounds.

_Orl_. Hence, slave!
By heaven a does rewarde hym for hys synne.
Was ever man like me unfortunate?
Not see the courte! why tys the greatest favor
In a kyngs guyfte, and had hys hyghnes pleasd
T'have sent me to deathe we had bothe beene easd.

_Enter Turpin_.

_Char_. O my deare sweete! where has my best frend beene?
My joy of life, my ages comforter!