Hen. I would do well, my heart's well;
I do not fear.
Car. My good Boy.
Hen. I know, Uncle,
We must all dye; my little brother dy'd,
I saw him dye, and he dy'd smiling: sure,
There's no great pain in't Uncle. But pray tell me,
Whither must we go when we are dead?
Car. Strange questions!
Why, to the blessed'st place Boy: ever sweetness
And happiness dwells there.
Hen. Will you come to me?
Car. Yes, my sweet boy.
Hen. Mine Aunt too, and my Cosins?
Car. All, my good child.
Hen. No Romans, Uncle?
Car. No Boy.