Gla. How cam'st thou here? Now who plays Hubert false?
Nay, I'm too glad thou 'rt come to question so.
'Tis easy to forgive the treachery
That opes our gates to angels.
Hen. O, I'm loved?
Gla. Yes, Henry. All the morn I've thought of you,
And I rose early, for I love to say
Good-by to my dear stars; they seem so wan
And loath to go away, as though they know
The fickle world is thinking of the sun,