Exeunt.
Sound Trumpets. Enter the King, the Queene, Cardinall, Suffolke, Somerset, with Attendants.
King. Goe call our Vnckle to our presence straight:
Say, we intend to try his Grace to day,
If he be guiltie, as 'tis published
Suff. Ile call him presently, my Noble Lord.
Enter
King. Lords take your places: and I pray you all
Proceed no straiter 'gainst our Vnckle Gloster,
Then from true euidence, of good esteeme,
He be approu'd in practise culpable
Queene. God forbid any Malice should preuayle,
That faultlesse may condemne a Noble man:
Pray God he may acquit him of suspition
King. I thanke thee Nell, these wordes content mee
much.
Enter Suffolke.
How now? why look'st thou pale? why tremblest thou?
Where is our Vnckle? what's the matter, Suffolke?
Suff. Dead in his Bed, my Lord: Gloster is dead
Queene. Marry God forfend
Card. Gods secret Iudgement: I did dreame to Night,
The Duke was dumbe, and could not speake a word.