L. Grey. That’s soon perform’d, because I am a subject.
55 K. Edw. Why, then, thy husband’s lands I freely give thee.
[♦] L. Grey. I take my leave with many thousand thanks.
[♦] Glou. [Aside to Clar.] The match is made; she seals it with a curt’sy.
K. Edw. But stay thee, ’tis the fruits of love I mean.
L. Grey. The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege.
60 K. Edw. Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense.
What love, think’st thou, I sue so much to get?
L. Grey. My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers;
That love which virtue begs and virtue grants.