notwithstandinge my greatnes grace you to give you thys, &, ladye,
you thys. [_Gives letters_.

_Gan_. Why, howe nowe? what motyons thys? Is the knave falne out with
hys five sences.

_Fue_. _Ganelon_, no, but in love with my knowne vertues.--Hould, theres
your yarde [_gives hys coate_] & a halfe of somers wearynge. Frends we
mett, frends we parte: if you please me I may prayse you, if you seeke
me you may fynd me, a loves littill that loves longe; and so I leave you
to the tuytion.

_Gan_. Heyday, the knaves lunatycke! syrha sott
... ... ... ... ...

[_Fue_.] ... ... Tys daungerous for your shynns; take heede of
my[schief]. Favorytts are not without their steccados, imbrocados
& pun[to]-reversos[96]. No more but so: you have no honor, no offyce,
littill land, lesse money, least wytt. Y'are a pore man & I pyttie
you. When next you see me tys in the emperours bossome.

[_Ex. La Fue_.

_Gan_. Whats thys? scornd of my drudge, mockt & abusd?
Foote! I will throwe my dager after hym.

_Eld_. But thys is nothynge to the heape of scornes
Will flowe on you hereafter. What says your letter?

_Gan_. Ile tell you presentlye.