You are the first admitted.
Win. Dear my lord——
Hen. [Rising and turning to Winchester]
Will you, too, tell me she is dead?
Win. Alas——
Hen. O, not that word—the pretty mask of woe.
That never hid a tear. If she is dead,
Weep and be dumb, or find some word that rends
The heart in uttering it.
Win. My lord——