[Exit Officer.
Fabian, stay!
Misfortunes fall so thick upon my head,
They will not give me time to think—to breathe.
Fab. Heaven knows, I wish your peace; but am to learn,
What grief more fresh than my young lord's decease,
A sorrow but of three days past, can move you.
Count. O bitter memory! gone, gone for ever!
The pillar of my house, my only son!