Well loved and well reputed, I should weep
Tears dearer than the dear blood drawn from you
But that I know you not uncomforted,
Sleeping no shameful sleep, however slain,
For my son surely hath avenged you dead.


MESSENGER.

Nay, should thine own seed slay himself, O queen?


ALTHAEA.

Thy double word brings forth a double death.


MESSENGER.

Know this then singly, by one hand they fell.


ALTHAEA.

What mutterest thou with thine ambiguous mouth?


MESSENGER.

Slain by thy son's hand; is that saying so hard?