Pem. This judgment, sire,
Is much too modest.
Win. Hear us now, my liege,
For you have heard too little these months past.
Hen. My lords, I am too faint and troubled now
To understand if you be friends or foes,
Or if the earl of Kent be false to me;
But come, and what you choose to speak, I'll hear.
... Glaia, art gone from me? Ah, who would live?
The winds of doom are sold by Lapland witches,