Nay, never frowne, I doe remember thys
As well methynks as if it hapned nowe.

_Char_. Your memoryes toe blame; you doe mistake.

_Orl_. O that I could mistake or never thynke
Uppon thys daylie terror to my sence.
Sir, tys a thyng I labour to mystake
But cannot, for my starrs will have it thus.

_Char_. You wronge your fortunes and convert theire good
Into a stronge disease.

_Orl_. So pray you tourne me then into an hospytall,
I have a straunge disease. But, gratyous Sir,
Littill thought I, when I departed hence
And conquerd you all Spayne, to tourne diseasd.

_Char_. Be patyent, and Ile undertake the cuer.

_Orl_. Oh I should shame your physsycke, though indeede
Tys the kyngs evyll I am trobled with,
But such a rare kyngs evyll that I feare
My chyldrens chyldren wilbe taynted with't.

_Rei_.--A touches hym most bouldlye.

_Oli_.--Even to the quycke of hys last maryadge.

_Orl_. Beleive't, my sycknes is like the disease