Lope. Oh, sir—
Men. I knew you on your road to me;
Your errand too; and thus much have forestall’d
Of needless courtesy.
Lope. Pray God, reward you
With such advancement in your prince’s love
As envy, the court Hydra, shall not hiss,
But general love and acclamation
Write in gold letters in our history,
For ages and for ages. Sir, your hand!