Ferdinand (above). Save yourself! It is the King!
Enter the King and Ferdinand to Gow
Gow. God save you! This was the Prince!
The King. The Prince! Not a dead branch? (Uncovers the face.) My flesh and blood! My son! my son! my son!
Ferdinand (to Gow). I had feared something of this. And that fool yonder?
Gow. Dead, or as good. He cannot speak.
Ferdinand. Better so.
The King. 'Loosed to adventure early!' Tell the tale.
Gow. Saddest truth alack! I came upon him not a half hour since, fallen from the North park wall over against the Deerpark side—dead—dead!—a nectarine in his hand that the dear lad must have climbed for, and plucked the very instant, look you, that a brick slipped on the coping. 'Tis there now. So I lifted him, but his neck was as you see—and already cold.
The King. Oh, very cold. But why should he have troubled to climb? He was free of all the fruit in my garden, God knows!… What, Gow?