Where is our uncle? what’s the matter, Suffolk?
Suf. Dead in his bed, my lord; Gloucester is dead.
30 Queen. Marry, God forfend!
Car. God’s secret judgement: I did dream to-night
[♦] The duke was dumb and could not speak a word. [The King swoons.
Queen. How fares my lord? Help, lords! the king is dead.
Som. Rear up his body; wring him by the nose.
35 Queen. Run, go, help, help! O Henry, ope thine eyes!
Suf. He doth revive again: madam, be patient.
King. O heavenly God!