Fair garden springing on this drearsome earth.
Laun. Lady I must go. My lands in France,
Tribute to my sword, I’ll make a kingdom.
And pass my days in memories of thee.
Guin. Nay, nay thou wilt not go, and if thou must,
My heart will bleed for thee until my death.
Unid. (Hurrying in.) Madam, there is treason without.
Many arméd knights do come this way.
Laun. Now is the end come I have long expected,
The grim fatality of all my fears,