And be as wellcome as a gentyll callme
To a longe daungerd seaman in a storme,
Suche as up on _Aeneas_ straglinge fleete
At _Juno's_ will by _Aeolus_ was raysd
When in his flyght from horror he sawe more
Then _Troy_ affoarded; for the newese I brynge
Is vyctorie, which crownes the crownes of kynges.

_Char_. Cossen _Reinaldo_, if youle sytt and prayse
The fayre eies of my fayre love, I will heare
Tyll you be tyerd with talkinge.

_Rei_. What is this?
Is this the voyce of mightie _Charlimayne_?
Sir, from your worthye nephewe I am come,
The ever feard _Orlando_, who in _Spayne_
Hath with hys owne fame mixt your happynes
By a blest vyctorye.

_Char_. We have no leasure
To heare, nor are we able to contayne
Another happynes, nor is theire other.
Successe in warre is but a pleasynge dreame
From whence a drume may fryght us. Here doth rest
My happynes which cannot be exprest.

[_Ex. Cha., The., Gab., and attendants_.

_Tur_. Pryncely _Reinaldo_, doe not let amaze
Strugle within you; you but yet survay
The out syde of our wonder.

_Rich_. Brother, 'tis more
Then can be wrytten in a cronyckle.

_Rei_. But must not be without my reprehensyon.
Come, I will followe hym: when _Charles_ dothe flye
From honor, where shall goodnes hope to lye?

[_Exe. all but Gan. and Rich_.

_Gan_. Stay, worthye frende, and let me playnlye knowe
How you affect t[hys] humor in the kynge.

_Rich_. Faythe, generally as a good subject should,--
Delighted with the joy hys kynge receyves
(And which I hope and wish may styll contynewe),
But in partycular--because the cause
Of hys joy cannot chuse but worke to you
Effecte worthye your vertues. For my old love,
Tys nowe lodg'd in a desperatt memorye.

_Gan_. But dost not seeme a most grosse dott[age]?

[Rich] ... ... ... ... ...
Though certaynlie desyer's the onlye thynge
Of strengthe about hym, and that strength is hys
With a conceyt that putts desyers in act.

_Gan_. And is not that a dottage at the least?

_Rich_. I dare not taxe the actyon of a kynge
By giveinge it an ill name in my thoughts.

_Gan_. Y'are modest, sir, nor I; but yet if I
Felte not a straunger love within my selfe
In this my strength of memorye and yeares,
Abyllities of bodye and of brayne,
More doatinge on a man than he on her,
A would not scape my censure.

_Rich_. I beleive
(To which beleife a long experyence
Of youre knowne worthe most steddylie directs)
That if