Fr. Seb. Though he should banish all the woes of England,
Make sorrow alien, and a tear unknown,
Yet has he wronged a king. Though happy mothers
Drop on their knees and let no hour pass by
Without its prayer for him, still has he wronged
A king!
Hen. Wilt never speak because you speak
So much?
Fr. Seb. Here let me lie, and pray your grace
For two long troubled hearts. When I have spoken