Did.  Why? because my money burnte in my pursse tyll I left it?

Bus.  No, but because it taught the furyous way
To blasphemye and curses which have kyndled
A desperatt fyer in thee to play and loose,
So that although thou purchase letteres patente
To begge in all the provynces of Fraunce,
Pretendinge that thy state was lost by fyer,
Yet thou wouldst dye a beggar.

Did.  If I dye
Before my letters pattente be expyred,
Howe can I chuse (though I repayre my state)? 
But leaveing thys and you to the pore hope
Of other mens and perhaps my cast cloathes,
I tell thee, syllie creature, I am nowe
Spreadinge my wings and mountinge to a heyghte
From whence I will with scorne beholde such thyngs
As all th’ambityon thou art master of
Can never make thee hope or wish to be. 
And for my fortunes past, which you so much
Esteeme and present [sic] wouldst doe reverence toe,
I vallewe theym at thys! and for the like
Would not bestowe the labor of amen
To any good man’s wishes.  The laboringe clouds
Insteade of vapours have exhald from earthe
A blessing for me, and about this tyme
(By the full revolution of my starres)
Should rayne it down uppon me.

Bus.  Tushe.

Did.  Observe,
First heare me, know the meanes and when y’ave doone
Fall downe and worshypp.  Thys same verye day,
Nay thys most fortunate mynute, the emperoure,
The great, th’unconquered mightie Charlimayne,
Is marryed to the syster of my lorde
To your most fayre-eied aunte, rare Theodora.

    [Florish.  A crye within “God save Theodora the Empresse!”

You heare thys?

Buss.  I wishe myne eares had to the pillorye
Payd tribute rather then let in this sounde. 
Unfortunate Orlando! thy fayrest hopes,
Like to a blaze of artifyciall fire,
No sooner have a beinge but expyre.

Did.  What! passyonate in rhyme?  I must be taught
To give attendance on the full-fedd guest![83] ... ... ... ... ...

Bus.  You may be dambd
For useing sorcerye upon the kynge. 
That naturell heate, which is the cause and nurse
Of younge desyers, his pallsye hath shooke of,
And all the able facultyes of man
Are fled his frost of age to that extreame
Theres not enough to cherrish a desyer
Left in his saplesse nerves.

Did.  In this your worshypp
Gives my hopes illustratyon.  Age must doate
To a Judgments dearth that may be cheated on
Yet that cheate rest unquestyond.  Doe you heare? 
The kynge is beinge maryed to your aunte
Hathe bounde hys fortunes to my lord, and he
Will, like a ryver that so long retaynes
The oceans bounty that at last it seemes
To be it selfe a sea, receyve and keepe
The comon treasure; and in such a floode,
Whose thycknes would keepe up what naturullye
Covetts the center, can you hope Ile synke?