‘For what, my lord?’
‘Ay! for what, for what! My brain it wanders. Thy brother, thy great brother, the Queen, the Queen has stolen my signet ring, that is, I gave it her. Fly, fly! or in a word, Jabaster is no more. He is gone. Pharez! your arm; I swoon!’
‘His Highness is sorely indisposed to-day.’
‘They say he swooned this morn.’
‘Ay, in the bath.’
‘No, not in the bath. ‘Twas when he heard of Jabaster’s death.’
‘How died he, Sir?’
‘Self-strangled. His mighty heart could not endure disgrace, and thus he ended all his glorious deeds.’
‘A great man!’
‘We shall not soon see his match. The Queen had gained his pardon, and herself flew to the Armoury to bear the news; alas! too late.’