Vice. She that triumphs at last, and that must I. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.—London. The Court of Athelstane.
Enter Athelstane, Lincoln with Agripyne, Cyprus, Galloway, Cornwall, Chester, Longaville and Montrose.
Athelst. Lincoln, how set’st thou her at liberty?
Linc. No other prison held her but your court,
There in her chamber hath she hid herself
These two days, only to shake off that fear,
Which her late violent rapture cast upon her.
Cypr. Where hath the beauteous Agripyne been?
Agrip. In Heaven or hell, in or without the world,
I know not which, for as I oft have seen,
When angry Thamesis hath curled her locks,
A whirlwind come, and from her frizzled brows,
Snatch up a handful of those sweaty pearls,
That stood upon her forehead, which awhile,
Being by the boist’rous wind hung in the air,
At length hath flung them down and raised a storm,—
Even with such fury was I wherried up,
And by such force held prisoner in the clouds,
And thrown by such a tempest down again.
Cornw. Some soul is damned in hell for this black deed.
Agrip. I have the purse safe, and anon your grace
Shall hear the wondrous history at full.