Mar. [Unheard by Kent] Eleanor!
Her child! Her child!
Kent. Fair Glaia, may'st thou rest,
Not ever wake till angels call thee up.
[Looking back] Ay, ay, she sleeps.
[Exit, left]
Mar. How gracious art thou, God,
To bless me so! O, wicked Eleanor!
This was the fire that maddened thee to-night.
Not fear for Hubert. How couldst make his life