[20] Like to his island girt in with the ocean,
Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs,
Shall rest in London till we come to him.
Fair lords, take leave and stand not to reply.
Farewell, my sovereign.
25 K. Hen. Farewell, my Hector, and my Troy’s true hope.
Clar. In sign of truth, I kiss your highness’ hand.
K. Hen. Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate!
Mont. Comfort, my lord; and so I take my leave.
[♦] Oxf. And thus I seal my truth, and bid adieu.