King. 'Tis my soules ayme to tye it Vpon a faster knot.
Card. I do not see How you can with safe conscience get it from her.
King. Oh, I know
I wrastle with a Lyonesse: to imprison her
And force her too't I dare not. Death! what King
Did ever say I dare not? I must have it.
A Bastard have I by her; and that Cocke
Will have (I feare) sharpe spurres, if he crow after
Him that trod for him. Something must be done
Both to the Henne and Chicken: haste you therefore
To sad Onaelia; tell her I'm resolv'd
To give my new Hawke bells and let her flye;
My Queene I'm weary of and her will marry.
To this our Text adde you what glosse you please;
The secret drifts of Kings are depthlesse Seas.
[Exeunt.
(SCENE 2.)
A Table set out cover'd with blacke: two waxen tapers: the Kings Picture at one end, a Crucifix at the other: Onaelia walking discontentedly weeping to the Crucifix, her Mayd with her: to them Cornego.
SONG.
Quest. Oh sorrow, sorrow, say, where dost thou dwell?
Answ. In the lowest roome of Hell.
Quest. Art thou borne of Humane race?