King. Is there anybody here that fears the curses of the dead?
Angus. Ay, my lord, I do.
King. Well, you close their eyes, and let us be gone.
Nurse. Ay, ay. Come hence! come hence!
King. I will; I will. Oh, oh! how lonely I shall feel hereafter! I am steeped in misery up to my ears at seventy-seven years of age. But where are you?
Nurse! Here, here!
King. You will not feel angry with me? Let us go to breakfast. Will there be salad for breakfast? I should like a little salad.
Nurse. Yes, yes. You shall have some, my lord.
King. I do not know why; I feel somewhat melancholy to-day. Good God! good God! How unhappy the dead do look!
[Exit with Nurse.