10 Tell him this day we will that he do cleare himselfe.
Suffolke. I will my Lord. Exet Suffolke.
[♦] King. And good my Lords proceed no further against our vnkle (Gloster,
Then by iust proofe you can affirme,
For as the sucking childe or harmlesse lambe,
15 So is he innocent of treason to our state.
Enter Suffolke.
How now Suffolke, where’s our unkle?
[♦] Suffolke. Dead in his bed, my Lord Gloster is dead. The King falles in a sound.
Queen. Ay-me, the King is dead: help, help, my Lords.