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
Of horse nor mare nor asse, & yet the beast
An usuall thynge for burthen.

_Bus_. Suche is myne,
A Mule, that is the bastard breede betwyxte
An asse & mare, & onlye fytt for labor.

_Char_. But, sir, you must be neyther cloathed nor naked.

_Bus_. Nor am I, myghtie Sir: thys pore thynne nett
Nor leaves me nakt nor yet dothe cover me.

_Char_. You prettylie orereache me; but you must
Bringe in your hand the faythfullst frend you challenge.

_Bus_. Thys is he, my faythfull trustye spanyell,
The verye typpe & truthe of true affectyon.

_Char_. But with hym must be joynd your greatest enemye.

_Bus_. They are not farre assunder: a curst wife
Is evermore mans worst aflyctyon,
And shee that outgoes myne in bytternes
May fryght the whole worlde.

_Char_. Come, y'are ingenyous,
And I confes th'ast conquerd, thoughe I knowe
Thy father houlds as much unworthynes
As may excusse tyrranye in a prynce:
Yet for thys goodnes & thys industrye,
Th'example of the sweetest disposytion,
For all th'offences yet reveald unto me
I freelye pardon hym.

_Bus_. And you are good
And like your selfe, a verye god[103] in pyttie.

_Ber_. And from thys mercye I will new create
In me a spyrrytt full of humblenes.

_Enter La Fue in gallantrye_.

_Fue_. Roame there & uncover, gentyllmen. I that am myne owne gentyllman
usher am the best gentyllman in _Fraunce_ at thys present. Give place &
avoyde these.

_Bus_. What meanes the peasant? syrha, are you madd?

_Fue_. Yes, and I were halfe nakt as you are. Roame I say!--O my sweete
harte, I will [_Offers to kisse Charli_.] kysse thy whyte lipps in the
syght of thys whole assemblye.

_Char_. Avaunte, I say! what meanes thys lunatycke.

_Tur_. Pore sott howe hees deceyvd! th'inchauntments vanyshed.--
Syrha learne better manners.

_Fue_. How! syrha to my greatnes! I am not in case to carrye your tokens.
Ould man, you had better manners when last I lefte you.--Come, sweete
love, I will love thee without more intreatye. Let us withdraw