Proudly. Look to my sister.
Bold. 'Sheart! the lady swoons.
Wife. Strong water there.
Fee. If strong breath would recover her, I am for her.
Count. Alas, good lady! hum, hum, hum.
[Coughs perpetually.
Sub. He has fetch'd her again with coughing.
Maid. Convey me to my bed; send for a priest
And a physician; your bride, I fear,
Instead of epithalamions shall need
A dirge or epitaph. O, lead me in:
My body dies for my soul's perjur'd sin.
[Exeunt Maid, Grace, Wife, Husband, Subtle.
Bold. Hymen comes towards us in a mourning robe.
Well. I hope, friend, we shall have the better day.