Nor can I hope successe in any thynge
(More then my sworde), & muche lesse be confyrmed.

_Oli_. Pray, sir, withdrawe.

_Rei_. Althoughe I thynke thys fellowe meanes no good
We may dyscover & prevent hys ill:
Pray leave us, sir.

_Bus_. I will; but yet beware
That fellowe. [_Exit La Busse_.

_Did_. I fyrst desyre
To be beleived my love & utmost servyce
Are vowed unto your greatnes, to which beleife
The hazard of my life throughe all the daungers
That ever fryghted weake mortallytie,
Shalbe an instygation. Fyrst, Sir, knowe
The empresse is departed.

_Orl_. Whyther! to hunt worsse fortunes then I suffer?

_Did_. Sir, she is deade, a fever shooke her bloode
After her chyld bedd sycknes, & of it
She dyed last mornynge.

_Rei_. Wonderful!! what newse of her younge sonne?

_Did_. It lyves & is a pryncelye littill one,
_Lewis_ the _gentyll_ calld, a hopefull infante.