He hath shed so much blood, that his will be shed:
If it come so to pass, in faith, then he is sped.
Enter the King without a gown, a sword thrust up into his side bleeding.
King.
Out alas? what shall I do? my life is finished;
Wounded I am by sudden chance, my blood is minished:
Gog’s heart, what means might I make my life to preserve?
Is there nought to be my help? nor is there nought to serve?
Out upon the court, and lords that there remain!
To help my grief in this my case will none of them take pain?