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?