To some far end of good, let me believe
Thy hand is here, and even on our heads.
[The turnkey comes down]
Ah, kiss me, kiss me, Heaven's Margaret.
Could I my life concentrate in one beat
I'd dwarf it so and give it in this kiss.
[Curtain]
Scene 3. A room in the earl of Albemarle's palace. A friar, and the king in friar's dress, but uncowled, waiting.
Hen. This is a fitting room for Death's cold jest;