Hen. It seemeth I know thee Bamburg, or ought to know,
Did not this haze of Hell o’erweight me down.
I thought thee fled. Why dost thou stand with me?
Knowest thou not that I am one accursed?
Bam. Hath nature no pity?
Hen. Were it the Queen alone who fled I’d bear it.
I never treated her as she deserved.
She was too kind, I used her brutal, Bamburg,
I used her brutal, she who was so kind.