_Sac._ First must I get the love of fair Angelica. Now am I full of amorous conceits, Not that I doubt to have what I desire, But how I might best with mine honour woo: Write, or entreat,--fie, that fitteth not; Send by ambassadors,--no, that's too base; Flatly command,--ay, that's for Sacripant: Say thou art Sacripant, and art in love, And who in Africa dare say the county nay? O Angelica, Fairer than Chloris when in all her pride Bright Maia's son entrapp'd her in the net Wherewith Vulcan entangled the god of war!
_Man._ Your honour is so far in contemplation of Angelica as you have forgot the second in attaining to the crown.
_Sac._ That's to be done by poison, prowess, or any means of treachery, to put to death the traitorous Orlando.--But who is this comes here? Stand close. [_They retire._
_Org._ I am sent on embassage to the right mighty and magnificent, alias, the right proud and pontifical, the County Sacripant; for Marsilius and Orlando, knowing him to be as full of prowess as policy, and fearing lest in leaning to the other faction he might greatly prejudice them, they seek first to hold the candle before the devil, and knowing him to be a Thrasonical mad-cap, they have sent me a Gnathonical[146] companion, to give him lettuce fit for his lips. Now, sir, knowing his astronomical humours, as one that gazeth so high at the stars as he never looketh on the pavement in the streets,--but whist! _lupus est in fabula._
_Sac._ [_coming forward_]. Sirrah, thou that ruminatest to thyself a catalogue of privy conspiracies, what art thou?
_Sac._ [_aside_]. My majesty!--Come hither, my well-nutrimented knave; whom takest me to be?
_Sac._ [_aside_]. I hold these salutations as ominous; for saluting me by that which I am not, he presageth what I shall be: for so did the Lacedæmonians by Agathocles, who of a base potter wore the kingly diadem.--But why deemest thou me to be the mighty Mandricard of Mexico?
_Sac._ Stay there: wert thou never in France?
_Sac._ So it seems, for there they salute their king by the name of Sir, Monsieur:--but forward.
_Org._ Such sparks of peerless majesty From those looks flame, like lightning from the east, As either Mandricard, or else some greater prince,--