_Char_. Did you ere heare a voyce more musycall? The Thracian _Orpheus_, whose admyred skyll Is sayd to have had power ore ravenous beasts To make theym lay their naturall feircenes by When he but toucht his harpe; that on the floods Had power above theire regent (the pale Moone) To make them tourne or stay their violent course When he was pleasd to ravishe theym with sounds, Neare had abyllitie with all his arte To matche the naturall musyque of thy voyce. And were I on the axeltree of heaven To note the Zodiaks anuall chaunge and course, The Sunns bryghte progresse and the planetts motyons, To play with Luna or newe lampe the starres, To note Orion or the Pleiades, Or with the sunne guyld the Antipodes,-- Yet all the glorye, in exchaunge for thee, Would be my torment and heavens crueltye. _Bus_. Was ere man thus orejoyd with mans own curse! _Enter Reinaldo_. _Char_. Thou only arte happynes. _Rei_. Not, greate Lord, for I Bringe newes that doth include-- _Char_. Cossan, your blame, And tys a dylligence of too muche pryde That interrupts myne admyratyon. _Rei_. My newse when knowne will raze out that beleife 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]?