King. Alas good Lady
Suf. God safely quit her of her Burthen, and
With gentle Trauaile, to the gladding of
Your Highnesse with an Heire
King. 'Tis midnight Charles,
Prythee to bed, and in thy Prayres remember
Th' estate of my poore Queene. Leaue me alone,
For I must thinke of that, which company
Would not be friendly too
Suf. I wish your Highnesse
A quiet night, and my good Mistris will
Remember in my Prayers
King. Charles good night.
Exit Suffolke.
Well Sir, what followes?
Enter Sir Anthony Denny.
Den. Sir, I haue brought my Lord the Arch-byshop,
As you commanded me
King. Ha? Canterbury?
Den. I my good Lord
King. 'Tis true: where is he Denny?
Den. He attends your Highnesse pleasure