Of envye or of scandall. Good Sir, thynke
His resolutyons nowe his champyons.

_Gan_. Syrha, no more; you shall goe home with me
And learne to laughe at fortune; I have there
A worthye matche and vertuous wife for thee
And she shall pyle up all your flatterye:
The courte hath no use for it.--Sir, methought
You talkt of lightnes, did you not?

_Orl_. Yes, that your heade is lighter then your heeles.

_Gan_. It is, I thanke my starres; howe can it chuse,
Beinge disburdend of so manye feares,
So much attendance and so manye synnes
By losse of my late offyces? I am bounde
(My contyence knowes it well) to blesse your lordshipp
If you or others moved the emperour
To my displaceinge. I am nowe unloaded
Of all the wayghtie cares that did oppresse me,
And shall I not discover what I am.
A nymble and a newe borne quyet man. [_Capers_.]
--Does thys offend you?

_Enter Turpin_.

_Tur_. Where's lorde _Richard_?

_Rich_. Here, reverend Sir.