How now, noble king? pluck up your heart;
What, will you die, and from us depart?
Speak to me, and you be alive:
He cannot speak; but behold now with death he doth strive!
Alas, good king: alas, he is gone!
The devil take me, if for him I make any moan.
I did prognosticate of his end, by the mass;
Like as I did say, so is it come to pass.
I will be gone; if I should be found here,
That I should kill him it would appear: