Enter another Lord.
Iag. Now you shall heare how fares his Maiestie.
Lord. Oh my good Lords, our sorrowes still increase,
A greater tide of woe is to be fear’d,
The Kings decay, with griefe for his two sonnes.
Iag. The gods forbid, let’s in and comfort him.
3. Lord. Alas, his sorrow’s such
He will not suffer vs to speake to him;
But turnes away in rage, and seemes to tread
The pace of one (if liuing) liuing dead.