Serv. O sir, I shall be hated to report it!
The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear
Of the queen's speed, is gone.
Leon. How! gone!
Serv. Is dead.
Leon. Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves
Do strike at my injustice. [[Hermione faints].] [How now there!]
145
Paul. This news is mortal to the queen: look down
And see what death is doing.