Ele. You have a woman's heart; look you, this hand—
[Takes her hand.
O, 'tis too little to strike home.
Queen-M. At whom?
Ele. Your son.
Queen-M. Which son? the king?
Ele. Angels of heaven
Stand like his guard about him! how, the king!
Not for so many worlds as there be stars
Sticking upon th' embroider'd firmament.
The king! he loves my wife, and should he die,
I know none else would love her; let him live
In heaven.[54]
[Aside.
Good Lord Philip——
Queen-M. He shall die.