Nymble & fytt for burthen.

_Char_. _Eudon_, goe
Bydd hym dismounte & as he loves hys life
Presentlye come before us. I will knowe [_Ex. Eudon_.
The ende of thys straunge purposse. Suer there must
Some secrett hange uppon it! thyngs doone thus
Are seldome jests, unlesse jests seryous.

_Enter Eudon & Busse, leading in twoe lymes Byrtha
& a Spaniell, hymselfe cladd all in nett_.

O tys _La Busse_; I've founde hys stratagem.--
Nowe, Sir, y'are wellcome; whence growes thys dysguyse?

_Bus_. Sir, from the fayre protectyon of your grace
And satisfactyon of your vowe; which doone,
Bouldlye I hope I may voutsafe to begge
My fathers deare deliverance.

_Char_. Noble sonne,
What wouldst thou doe hadst thou a noble father!
But come, sir, synce you putt me to the test,
Resolve the doute: your fathers pardoned
When you shall meet me uppon no hye way.

_Bus_. Which even nowe I did: the fallowe lands,
Newe plowed & tylld are free from passengers.

_Char_. Tys graunted; but your selfe, Sir, must not ryde