_Rich_. I wonder y'are so impudent. My frende
Hath vertues lefte: if you had eyther shame
Or charytie you would accuse your lybells.
But as the ravens which in _Arabia_ live,
Haveinge flowne all the feylde of spyces ore,
Seaze on a stynkinge carkasse, so doe you
Swiftlye leape over a most plentyous vale
Of good examples which grace _Ganelon_
And fasten on the scandall which was formd
By a lewde treacherous knave to gett rewarde.

_Oli_. I give your aplycatyon the broade lye.

_Rich_. And tys thy last foule languadge.
[_Offer to Drawe_.

_Orl_. Hould! who drawes must be myne enemye.

_Rich_. I'm easlye chydd from tumulte, but, deare Sir,
Tell me in pryvatt howe you dare maynteyne it.
[_Whisper_.

_Enter alofte[98] Ganelon_.

_Gan_.--Yonder a stands consultinge with my foes.
Perhapps thys present mynute he reveales
My systers whoredome, or to take away
All feare of my revendge he now contryves
That my sadd deathe may fynishe my disgrace.
Myne eies are dazeld, but it is no wonder,