Apoth. I humbly thank your majesty. [Exit.
Old Q. of Nav. Methinks the gloves have a very strong perfume, The scent whereof doth make my head to ache.
Nav. Doth not your grace know the man that gave them you?
Old Q. of Nav. Not well; but do remember such a man.
Adm. Your grace was ill-advised to take them, then, Considering of these dangerous times.10
Old Q. of Nav. Help, son Navarre! I am poisoned!
Mar. The heavens forbid your highness such mishap!
Nav. The late suspicion of the Duke of Guise Might well have moved your highness to beware How you did meddle with such dangerous gifts.
Mar. Too late it is, my lord, if that be true, To blame her highness; but I hope it be Only some natural passion makes her sick.
Old Q. of Nav. O no, sweet Margaret! the fatal poison Works within my head; my brain-pan breaks;20 My heart doth faint; I die! [Dies.