[SCENE 2.]
Reading edition
Enter Oliver.
Oli. The hower is past, the place & cyrcomstance And all the formes of manhood(?) are expyrd, And yet younge Richard comes not. Tys most straunge: He is as valyent as is victorye, And dare uppon a roughe say [sea?] hye as heaven Court all amazed daunger. Nowe to fayle Is past all revelatyon: suer as deathe Our whole plott is reveeld.
Enter Reinaldo.
Rei. Howe nowe, cossen? suer the hower is past? Yet no newse of my brother: as I live The youth is valyent, feare deters hym not.
Oli. Suer as deathe, our plott is all disclosd. And that there was no meanynge in the feighte, But onlye to withdrawe him from hys frend On whom he doats toe dearlye.
Rei. Suer tys so, And it will vexe the noble palladyne Above the heyghte of madnes; nay, beleiv't T'will chaunge opynion to a constant faythe Of hys extreame mysfortunes. See a comes.
Enter Orlando.
Orl. Howe now, my lords? howe speede your noble plotts? What, have you woone younge Richard from hys frend? Tell me whose eloquence hathe doone the deede And I will honor hym.
Oli. He hathe forborne th'incounter, and in that Hathe drownd us in amazement: we suppose Our plotts discoverd.
Orl. No more, keepe backe the rest, For I can read misfortunes in your browes. Vengeance consume theise projects! they are basse, And bassnes ever more doth second theym; The noble youthe smyle[s] at our follyes, nay, Scornes the base languadge that you uttered, Which is by thys tyme with the emperoure. O twas a speedinge way to doe us shame!
Rei. Take truce with passyon: I dare bouldlye sweare There is some other mysterye.
Oli. At worst Ile make it for our purposse every way And even kill the soule of Ganelon. With talkinge of the cowardyse, so that you Houlde patyence for a mynute.
Orl. Patyence! Preache it to cynicks or greene sycknes gyrles That have not blood enough to make a blushe Or forme an acte might cause one. I have longe Like to a reelinge pynetree shooke the earthe That I was rooted in, but nowe must fall And be no longer the fatts tennys ball.
Rei. Come be more temperd, you shall see from thys Sprynge pleasure that you wishe for. Olyver Shall instantlye upbrayd false Ganelon With Rychards muche unworthynes.
Oli. Thats decreed For in such tearms I meane to sett hym fourthe As shall even burst hys gall with agonye: Nay, it shall make hym never darre t'apeare Where men resorte, or knowe ought but hys feare.
Orl. You have lardge promysses, but acts as slowe As dyalls hands that are not seene to goe.
[Exeunt.