Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	die_v	life_n	time_n	18,635	5	3.9362	3	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A39810	The tragedy of Thierry, King of France, and his brother Theodoret as it was diverse times acted at the Blacke-Friers by the Kings Maiesties servants / written by John Fletcher, gent.	Fletcher, John, 1579-1625.; Massinger, Philip, 1583-1640.; Beaumont, Francis, 1584-1616.	1648 (1648)	Wing F1352; ESTC R30457	40,910	42

Only things monstrous Brun. Heare mee and thou shalt make thine owne beliefe Thy still with sorrow mention'd father liv'd Three carefull yeares in hope of wished heires When I conceiv'd being from his jealous feare Injoyn'd to quiet home one fatall day Transported with my pleasure to the chase I forc't command and in pursuit of game Fell from my horse lost both my child and hopes Despaire which only in his love saw life Worthy of being from a gardners armes Snatcht this unlucky brat and call'd it mine When the next yeare repaid my losse with thee But in thy wrongs preserv'd my miserie Which that I might diminish though not end My fighes and wet eies from thy fathers will Bequeath this largest part of his Dominions Of France unto thee and only left Austracia unto that changeling whose life affords Too much of ill ' gainst mee to prove my words And call him stranger Thier Come doe not weep I must nay doe beleeve you And in my fathers satisfaction count it Merit not wrong or losse Brun. You doe but flatter there 's anger yet flames In your eyes Thier. See I will quench it and confesse that you Have suffer'd double travaile for me Brun. You will not fire the house then Thier. Rather reward the author who gave cause Of knowing such a secret my oath and duty Shall be assurance on 't Brun. Protaldye rise good faithfull servant heaven knowes How hardly he was drawne to this attempt Enter Protaldye Thier. Protaldye he had a gardners fate I 'le sweare Tell by thy hand Sir we doe owe unto you for this service Brun. Why lookest thou so dejected Enter Martell Prot. I want a little shift Lady nothing else Mart. The fires are ready please it your grace withdraw Whilst we performe your pleasure Thier. Reserve them for the body since he had the fate To live and die a Prince he shall not lose The title in his funerall Exit Mart. His fate to live a prince Thou old impiety made up by lust and mischiefe Exeunt with the body of Theod. Take up the body Enter Lecure and a servant Lecure. Doest thinke Lefortes sure enough Serva As bonds can make him I have turn'd his eyes to the east and left him gaping after the morning starre his head is a meere Astrolobe his eyes stand for the poles the gag in his mouth being the coachman his five teeth have the neerest resemblance to Charles Waine Lecure. Thou hast cast a figure which shall raise thee direct my haire a little and in my likenesse to him reade a fortune suiting thy largest hopes Serva You are so far 'bove likenesse you are the same If you love mirth perswade him from himselfe 'T is but an Astronomer out of the way And lying will beare the better place for 't Lecure. I have profitabler use in hand hast to the Queene And tell her how you left me chang'd Exit Servant Who would not serve this vertuous active Queene She that loves mischiefe 'bove the man that does it And him above her pleasure yet knowes no heaven else Enter Thierry Thier. How well this loanes suits the art I seeke Discovering secret and succeeding fate Knowledge that puts all lower happinesse on With a remisse and carelesse hand Faire peace unto your meditations father Lecure. The same to you you bring Sir Thier. Drawne by your much fam'd skill I come to know Whether the man who owes this character Shall ere have issue Lecure. A resolution falling with most ease Of any doubt you could have named he is a Prince Whose fortune you enquire Thier. He is nobly borne Lecure. He had a dukedome lately falne unto him By one call'd brother who has left a daughter Thier. The question is of heirs not lands Lecure. Heirs yes he shall have heires Thier. Begotten of his body why look'st thou pale Thou canst not suffer in his want Lecure Nor thou I neither can nor will Give farther knowledge to thee Thier. Thou must I am the man my selfe Thy soveraigne who must owe unto thy wisedome In the concealing of my barren shame Lecure. Your grace doth wrong your stars if this be yours You may have children Thier. Speake it againe Lecure. You may have fruitfull issue Thier. By whom when how Lecure. It was the fatall meanes first strooke my blood With the cold hand of wonder when I read it Printed upon you birth Thier. Can there be any way unsmooth has end So faire and good Lecure. Wee that behold the sad aspects of heaven Leading sence blinded men feele griefe enough To know though not to speak their miseries Thier. Sorrow must lost a name where mine finds life If not in thee at least ease paine with speed Which must know no cure else Lecure. Then thus The first of females which your eye shall meete Before the sun next rise comming from out The Temple of Diana being slaine you live Father of many sonnes Thier. Callst thou this sadnesse can I beget a sonne Deserving lesse then to give recompence Unto so poore a losse what e're thou art Rest peaceable blest creature borne to bee Mother of Princes whose grave shall be more fruitfull Then others marriage beds me thinkes his art Should give her forme and happy figure to mee I long to see my happinesse he is gone As I remember hee named my brothers daughter Were it my mother 't were a gainfull death Could give Ordella's vertue living breath Exeunt Act. 4. Scoe. 1. Enter Thierry and Martell Mart. Your Grace is early stirring Mart. How can he sleep Whose happinesse is laid up in an houre Hee knowes comes stealing toward him O Martell I' st possible the longing bride whose wishes Outrunnes her feares can on that day shee is married Consume in slumbers or his armes rust in ease That heares the charge and sees the honor'd purchase Ready to gild his valour Mine is more A power above these passions this day France France that in want of issue withers with us And like an aged river runnes his head Into forgotten wayes againe I ransome And his faire course turne right this day Thierry The sonne of France whose manly powers like prisoners Have bin tied up and fetter'd by one death Give life to thousand ages this day beauty The envy of the world pleasure the glory Content above the world desire beyond it Are made mine owne and usefull Mart. Happy woman That dies to doe these things Thier. But ten times happier That lives to doe the greater O Martell The Gods have heard mee now and those that scorn'd me Mothers of many children and blest fathers That see their issues like the starres unnumber'd Their comfort more then them shall in my praises Now teach their infants songs and tell their ages From such a sonne of mine or such a Queen That chast Ordella brings mee blessed marriage The chaine that linkes two holy loves together And in thee marriage more then blest Ordella That comes so neere the sacrament it selfe The

Priests doubt whether purer Mart. Sir y' are lost Thier. I prethee let me be so Mart. The day weares And those that have beene offering early prayers Are now retiring homeward Thier. Stand and marke then Mart. Is it the first must suffer Thier. The first woman Mart. What hand shall doe it Sir Thier. This hand Martell For who lesse dare presume to give the gods An incense of this offering Mart. Would I were she For such away to die and such a blessing Can never crowne my parting Enter 2 men passing over Thier. What are those Mart. Men men Sir men Thier. The plagues of men light on vm They crosse my hopes like hares who 's that Enter a Priest Mart. A Priest Sir Thierry Would he were gelt Mart. May not these rascalls serve Sir Well hang'd and quarter'd Thierry No. Mart. Here comes a woman Enter Ordella vail'd Thier. Stand and behold her then Mart. I thinke a faire one Thier. Move not whilst I prepare her may her peace Like his whose innocence the gods are pleas'd with And offering at their altars gives his soule Far purer then those fires pull heaven upon her You holy powers no humane spot dwell in her No love of any thing but you and goodnesse Tie her to earth feare be a stranger to her And all weake bloods affections but thy hope Let her bequeath to women heare me heaven Give her a spirit masculine and noble Fit for your selves to aske and mee to offer O let her meete my blow doate on her death And as a wanton vine bowes to the pruner That by his cutting off more may encrease So let her fall to raise me fruit hale woman The happiest and the best if thy dull will Do not abuse thy fortune France ere found yet Ordella She is more then dull Sir lesse and worse then woman That may inherit such an infinite As you propound a greatnesse so neare goodnesse And brings a will to rob her Thier. Tell me this then Was there ere woman yet or may be found That for faire same unspotted memory For vertues sake and onely for it selfe sake Has or dare make a story Ordella Many dead Sir Living I thinke as many Thier. Say the kingdome May from a womans will receive a blessing The king and kingdome not a private safety A generall blessing Lady Ordella A generall curse Light on her heart denyes it Thier. Full of honor And such examples as the former ages Were but dim shadowes of and empty figures Ordella You strangely stir me Sir and were my weakenesse In any other flesh but modest womans You should not aske more questions may I do it Thier. You may and which is more you must Ordella I joy in 't A bove a moderate gladnesse Sir you promise It shall be honest Thier. As ever time discover'd Ordella Let it be what it may then what it dare I have a minde will hazard it Thier. But harke yee What may that woman merit makes this blessing Ordella Onely her duty Sir Thier. 'T is terrible Ordella 'T is so much the more noble Thier. 'T is full of fearefull shaddowes Ordella So is sleepe Sir Or any thing that 's meerely ours and mortall We were begotten gods else but those feares Feeling but once the fiers of nobler thoughts Fly like the shapes of clouds we forme to nothing Thier. Suppose it death Ordella I do Thier. And endlesse parting With all we can call ours with all our sweetnesse With youth strength pleasure people time nay reason For in the silent grave no conversation No joyfull tread of friends no voyce of lovers No carefull fathers councell nothing's hard Nor nothing is but all oblivion Dust and an endlesse darknesse and dare you woman Desire this place Ordella 'T is of all sleepes the sweetest Children begin it to us strong men seeke it And kings from heigth of all their painted glories Fall like spent exhaltations to this center And those are fooles that feare it or imagine A few unhandsome pleasures or lifes profits Can recompence this place and mad that staies it Till age blow out their lights or rotten humors Bring them despers'd to the earth Thier. Then you can suffer Ordella As willingly as say it Thier. Martell a wonder Here is a woman that dares die yet tel me Are you a wife Ordella I am Sir Thier. And have children She sighes and weepes Ordella O none Sir Thier. Dare you venter For a poore barren praise you ne're shall heare To part with these sweet hopes Ordella With all but Heaven And yet die full of children he that reads me When I am ashes is my son in wishes And those chaste dames that keepe my memory Singing my yearely requiems are my daughters Thier. Then there is nothing wanting but my knowledge And what I must doe Lady Ordella You are the King Sir And what you doe I 'le suffer and that blessing That you desire the Gods showre on the Kingdome Thier. Thus much before I strike then for I must kill you The Gods have will'd it so they 'r made the blessing Must make France young againe and mee a man Keepe up your strength still nobly Ordella Feare me not Thier. And meet death like a measure Ordella I am stedfast Thier. Thou shalt bee sainted woman and thy tombe Cut out in Cristall pure and good as thou art And on it shall be graven every age Succeeding Peeres of France that rise by thy fall Tell thou liest there like old and fruitfull nature Darest thou behold thy happinesse Ordella I dare Sir Thier. Ha Pulls off her vaile let ts fall his sword Mar. O Sir you must not doe it Thier. No I dare not There is an Angell keepes that paradice A fiery Angell friend O vertue vertue Ever and endlesse vertue Ordella Strike Sir strike And if in my poore death faire France may merit Give me a thousand blowes be killing mee A thousand dayes Thier. First let the earrh be barren And man no more remembred rise Ordella The neerest to thy maker and the purest That ever dull flesh shewed us O my heart-strings Exit Mart. I see you full of wonder therefore noblest And truest amongst women I will tell you The end of this strange accident Ordella Amazement Has so much wove upon my heart that truly I feele my selfe unfit to heare O Sir My Lord has slighted me Mart. O no sweet Lady Ordella Rob'd me of such a glory by his pitie And most unprovident respect Mart. Deare Lady It was not meant to you Ordella Else where the day is And houres distinguish time time runnes to ages And ages end the world I had been spoken Devi I 'le tell you what it was if but your patience Will give me hearing Ordella If I have transgrest Forgive me Sir Mart. Your noble Lord was counsell'd Grieving the barrennesse betweene you both And all the Kingdome with him to seeke out A man that knew the secrets of the Gods Hee went found such a

One mark'd out only for it what are these Come they upon your priviledge to tread on The tombe of my afflictions Prot. No not wee Sir Thier. How dare you then omit the ceremony Due to the funerall of all my hopes Or come unto the marriage of my sorrowes But in such colours as may sort with them Prot. Alas we will weare any thing Brun. This is madnesse Take but my counsell Thier. Yours Dare you againe Though arm'd with the authority of a mother Attempt the donger that will fall on you If such another sillable awake it Goe and with yours be safe I have such cause Of griefe nay more to love it that I will not Have such as these be sharers in it Lecure. Madam Prot. Another time were better Brun. Doe not stirre For I must bee resolv'd and will be statues Enter Martell Thier. I thou art welcome and upon my soule Thou art an honest man doe you see he has teares To lend to him whom prodigall expence Of sorrow has made bankerout of such treasure Nay thou doest well Mart. I would it might excuse The ill I bring along Thier. Thou makest me smile In the height of my calamities as if There could be the addition of an Atome To the gyant body of my miseries But try for I will heare thee all sit downe 't is death To any that shall dare to interrupt him In looke gesture or word Mart. And such attention As is due to the last and the best story That ever was deliver'd will become you The griev'd Ordella for all other titles But take away from that having from me Prompted by your last parting groane enquir'd What drew it from you and the cause soone learn'd For shee whom barbarisme could deny nothing With such prevailing earnestnesse desir'd it 'T was not in mee though it had beene my death To hide it from her she I say in whom All was that Athens Rome or warlike Sparta Have registred for good in their best women But nothing of their ill knowing her selfe Mark'd out I know not by what power but sure A cruell one to dye to give you children Having first with a setled countenance Look'd up to heaven and then upon her selfe It being the next best object and then smil'd As if her joy in death to doe you service Would break forth in despight of the much sorrow Shee shew'd she had to leave you and then taking Mee by the hand this hand which I must ever Love better then I have done since shee touch'd it Goe said she to my Lord and to goe to him Is such a happinesse I must not hope for And tell him that hee too much priz'd a trifle Made only worthy in his love and her Thankfull acceptance for her sake to robbe The Orphan Kingdome of such guardians as Must of necessitie descend from him And therefore in some part of recompence Of his much love and to shew to the world That 't was not her fault only but her fate That did deny to let her be the mother Of such most certaine blessings yet for proofe She did not envy her that happy her That is appointed to them her quick end Should make way for her which no sooner spoke But in a moment this too ready engine Made such a battery in the choisest castle That ever nature made to defend life That strait it shooke and sunke Thier. Stay dares any Presume to shed a teare before me or Ascribe that worth unto themselves to merit To doe so for her I have done now on Mart. Falne thus once more she smil'd as if that death For her had studied a new way to sever The soule and body without sence of paine And then tell him quoth shee what you have seene And with what willingnesse 't was done for which My last request unto him is that he Would instantly make choyce of one most happy In being so chosen to supply my place By whom if heaven blesse him with a daughter In my remembrance let it beare my name Which said she di'd Thier. I heare this and yet live Heart art thou thunder proofe wil nothing breake thee Shee 's dead and what her entertainment may be In th' other world without me is uncertaine And dare I stay here unresolv'd Mart. Oh Sir Brun. Deare sonne Pret. Great King Thier. Unhand me am I falne So low that I have lost the power to be Disposer of my owne life Mart. Be but pleas'd To borrow so much time of sorrow as To call to mind her last request for whom I must confesse a losse beyond expression You turne your hand upon your selfe 't was hers And dying hers that you should live and happy In seeing little models of your selfe By matching with another and will you Leave any thing that shee desir'd ungranted And suffer such a life that was laid downe For your sake only to be fruitlesse Thier. Oh thou dost throw charmes upon me against which I cannot stop my eares beare witnesse heaven That not desire of life nor love of pleasure Nor any future comforts but to give Peace to her blessed spirit in satisfying Her last demand makes mee deferre our meeting Which in my choise and suddaine choise shall bee To all apparant Brun. How doe I remove one mischiefe To draw upon my head a greater Thier. Goe thou only good man to whom for her selfe Goodnesse is deare and prepare to interre it In her that was O my heart my Ordella A monument worthy to be the casket Of such a jewell Mart. Your command that makes way Vnto my absence is a welcome one For but your selfe there 's nothing heere Martell Can take delight to looke on yet some comfort Goes back with me to her who though she want it Deserves all blessings Exit Brun. So soone to forget The losse of such a wife beleeve it will Be censur'd in the world Thier. Pray you no more There is no argument you can use to crosse it But does increase in me such a suspition I would not cherish who 's that Enter Memberge Memb. One no guard Can put back from accesse whose tongue no threats Nor praises can silence a bold suitor and For that which if you are your selfe a King You were made so to grant it Justice Justice Thier. With what assurance dare you hope for that Which is deni'd to me or how can I Stand bound to be just unto such as are Beneath mee that find none from those that are Above me Memb. There is justice 't were unfit That any thing but vengeance should fall on him That by his giving way to more then murther For my deare fathers death was particide Makes it his owne Brun. I charge you heare her not Memb. Hell cannot stop just prayers from entring heaven I must and will be heard Sir but remember That he that by her plot fell was your brother And the place where your Palace against all Th' inviolable rites of Hospitality Your word a Kings

know Something 's amisse heaven helpe all 1. What cures has he Bawdb. Armies of those wee call Physicians some with glisters Some with lettice caps some posset drinkes some pills Twenty consulting here about a drench As many here to blood him Then comes a Don of Spaine and he prescribes More cooling opium then would kill a turk Or quench a whore i' th dogdayes after him A wife Italian and he cries tie unto him A woman of fourescore whose bones are marble Whose blond snow water not so much heate about her As may conceive a prayer after him An English Doctor with a bunch of pot hearbes And he cries out Endiffe and suckery With a few mallow rootes and buttermilke And talkes of oyle made of a Churchmans charity Yet still he wakes 1. But your good honour Has a prayer in store if all should faile Bawdb. I could have prayed and handsomely But age and an ill memory 3. Has spoll'd your primmer Bawdb. Yet if there be a man of faith i' th Court An can pray for a pension Enter Thierry on a bed with Doctors and Attendants 2. Here 's the King Sir And those that will pray without pay Bawdb. Then pray for me too 1. Doct. How does your Grace feele your selfe now Thier. What 's that 1. Doct. Nothing at all Sir but your fancy Thier. Tell me Can ever these eyes more shut up in slumbers Assure my soule there is sleepe is there night And rest for humane labours doe not you And all the world as I doe out-stare time And live like funerall lampes never extinguisht Is there a grave and doe not flatter me Nor feare to tell mee truth and in that grave Is there a hope I shall sleepe can I die Are not my miseries immortall oh The happines of him that drinkes his water After his weary day and sleepes for ever Why doe you crucifie mee thus with faces And gaping strangely upon one another When shall I rest 2. Doct. O Sir be patient Thier. Am I not patient have I not endur'd More then a maingy dog among your dosses Am I not now your patient ye can make Unwholsome fooles sleepe for a guarded foot-cloth Whores for a hot sinne offering yet I must crave That feede ye and protect ye and proclame ye Because my power is farre above your searching Are my diseases so can ye cure none But those of equall ignorance dare yee kill me 1. Doct. We doe beseech your grace bee more reclaim'd This talke doth but distemper you Thier. Well I will die In spight of all your potions one of you sleepe Lie downe and sleep here that I may behold What blessed rest it is my eyes are rob'd of See hee can sleepe sleep any where sleep now When hee that wakes for him can never slumber I' st not a dainty ease 2. Doct. Your Grace shall feele it Thier. O never I never the eyes of heaven See but their certaine motions and then sleepe The rages of the Ocean have their slumbers And quiet silver calmes each violence Crownes in his end a peace but my fixt fires Shall never never set who 's that Enter Martell Brunhalt Devitry Souldiers Mart. No woman Mother of mischiefe no the day shall die first And all good things live in a worse then thou art Ere thou shalt sleepe dost thou see him Brun. Yes and curse him And all that love him foole and all live by him Mart. Why art thou such a monster Brun. Why art thou So tame a knave to aske me Mart. Hope of hell By this faire holy light and all his wrongs Which are above thy yeares almost thy 〈◊〉 Thou shalt not rest not feele more what is pity Know nothing necessary meet no society But what shall curse and crucifie thee feele in thy selfe Nothing but what thou art bane and bad conscience Till this man rest but for whose reverence Because thou art his mother I would say Whore this shall bee doe ye nod I 'le waken ye With my swords point Brun. I wish no more of heaven Nor hope no more but a sufficient anger To torture thee Mart. See she that makes you see Sir And to your misery still see your mother The mother of your woes Sir of your waking The mother of your peoples cries and curses Your murdering mother your malicious mother Thier. Physicians halfe my state to sleepe an houre now Is it so mother Brun. Yes it is so sonne And were it yet againe to doe it should be Mart. She nods againe swing her Thier. But mother For yet I love that reverence and to death Dare not forget you have been so was this This endlesse miserie this curelesse malice This snatching from mee all my youth together All that you made mee for and happy mothers Crown'd with eternall time are proud to finish Done by your will Brun. It was and by that will Thier. O mother doe not lose your name forget not The touch of nature in you tendernes 'T is all the soule of woman all the sweetnes Forget not I beseech you what are children Nor how you have gron'd for them to what love They are borne inheritors with what care kept And as they rise to ripenesse still remember How they impe out your age and 〈◊〉 time calls you That as an Autumne flower you fall forget not How round about your hearse they hang like penons Brun. Holy foole Whose patience to prevent my wrongs has kill'd thee Preach not to me of punishments or feares Or what I ought to be but what I am A woman in her liberall will defeated In all her greatnes crost in pleasures blasted My angers have beene laught at my ends slighted And all those glories that had crown'd my fortunes Suffer'd by blasted vertue to be scatter'd I am the fruitfull mother of these angers And what such have done reade and know thy ruine Thier. Heaven forgive you Mart. She tels you true for millions of her mischiefes Are now apparent Protaldye wee have taken An equall agent with her to whose care After the damn'd defeat on you she trusted Enter Messenger The bringing in of Leonor the bastard Sonne to your murder'd brother her physitian By this time is attacht to that damn'd devill Messen 'T is like hee will bee so for ere we came Fearing an equall justice for his mischiefes He drench't himselfe Brun. He did like one of mine then Thier. Must I still see these miseries no night To hide me from their horrors that Protaldy See justice fall upon Brun. Now I could sleepe too Enter Ordella Mart. I le give you yet more poppy bring the Lady And heaven in her embraces gives him quiet Madam unvaile your selfe Ordella I doe forgive you And though you sought my blood yet I le pray for you Brun. Art thou alive Mart. Now could you sleepe Brun. For ever Mart. Go carry her without wink of sleepe or quiet Where her strong knave Protaldy's broke o th wheele And let his cryes roares be musick toner I mean to waken her Thier. Do her no wrong Mart. Nor right as you love justice Brun. I will thinke And if there be new curses in old nature I have a soule dare send them Mart. Keepe her waking Exit Brunhalt Thier. What 's that appeares so sweetly their 's that face Mart. Be moderate Lady Their. That angels face Mart. Go neraer Thier. Martell I cannot last long see the soule I see it perfectly of my Ordella The heavenly figure of her sweetnesse there Forgive mee Gods it comes divinest substance Kneele kneele kneele every one Saint of thy sexe If it be for my cruelty thou comest Do ye see her hoe Mart. Yes Sir and you shall know her Thier Downe downe againe to bee reveng'd for bloud Sweet spirit I am ready she smiles on me O blessed signe of peace Mart. Goe neerer Lady Ordella I come to make you happy Thier. Heare you that Sir She comes to crowne my soule away get sacrifice Whil'st I with holy honours Mart. Shee 's alive sir Thier. In everlasting life I know it friend O happy happy soule Ordella Alas I live Sir A mortall woman still Thier. Can spirits weepe too Mart. Shee 's no spirit Sir pray kisse her Lady Be very gentle to him Thier. Stay she is warme And by my life the same lips tell me brightnesse Are you the same Ordella still Mart. The same Sir Whom heavens and my good Angell staid from ruine Thier. Kisse me againe Ordella The same still still your servant Thier. 'T is she I know her now Martell sit downe sweet O blest and happiest woman a dead slumber Begins to creep upon me O my jewell Enter Messenger and Memberge Ordella O sleepe my Lord. Thier. My joyes are too much for me Messen Brunhalt impatient of her constraint to fee Protaldye tortur'd has chokt her selfe Mort. No more her sinnes goe with her Thier. Love I must die I faint close up my glasses 1. Doct. The Queen faints too and deadly Thier. One dying kisse Ordella My last Sir and my dearest and now Close my eyes too Thier. Thou perfect woman Martell the Kingdome 's yours take Memberge to you And keep my line alive nay weep not Lady Take me I goe Ordella Take mee too farewell honour Dies both 2. Doct. They are gone for ever Mart. The peace of happy soules goe after them Beare them to their last beds whilst I study A tombe to speake their loves whilst old time lasteth I am your King in sorrowes Omnes We your subjects Mart. Devitry for your service bee neere us Whip out these instruments of this mad mother From Court and all good people and because She was borne noble let that title find her A private grave but neither tongue nor honour And now lead on they that shall read this story Shall find that vertue lives in good not glory Exeunt Omnes FINIS