Mart. No more, her sins go with her.
Thier. Love, I must die, I faint, close up my glasses.
1 Doct. The Queen faints too, and deadly.
Thier. One dying kiss.
Ordel. My last Sir, and my dearest, and now
Close my eyes too.
Thier. Thou perfect woman.
Martel, the Kingdom's yours, take Memberge to you,
And keep my line alive; nay, weep not, Lady,
Take me, I go.
Ordel. Take me too, farewel honour. [Die both.
2 Doct. They are gone for ever.
Mart. The peace of happy souls go after them,
Bear them to their last beds, whilst I study
A Tomb to speak their loves; whilst old time laste[t]h
I am your King in sorrows.
Omnes. We your subjects.