For cold is he and low his head
Whose dear love made them blow.
Then lay she down where slept her lord
Upon the silver heather;
Then sighed the knight, nor said he word,
But left the twa together.
[Enter the king, dressed in black. He gazes at Glaia]
Gla. What is your name, boy?
Hen. Henry.
Gla. Henry? That is the king's name. Are you his soldier?