Fife. (His rhymes are out, or he had call’d it spot)—
Clo. A bullet brings you to.
I must forthwith to court to tell the King
The issue of this lamentable day,
That buries all his hope in night. (To Fife.) Farewell:
Remember.
Fife. But a moment—but a word!
When shall I see my mis—mas—
Clo. Be content:
All in good time; and then, and not before,