Enter Protaldye.
Thier. Protaldye? he had a Gard'ners fa[t]e I'll swear:
[F]ell by thy hand, Sir, we doe owe unto you for this service.
Brun. Why lookest thou so dejected?
Enter Martel.
Prot. I want a little shift, Lady, nothing else.
Mart. The fires are ready, please it your grace withdraw,
Whilst we perform your pleasure.
Thier. Reserve them for the body; since he had the fate
To live and die a Prince, he shall not lose
The Title in his Funeral. [Exit.
Mart. His fate to live a Prince,
Thou old impiety, made up by lust and mischief,
Take up the body. [Exeunt with the body of Theod.
Enter Lecure and a Servant.
Lecu. Dost think Leforte's sure enough?