To give my new hawk bells, and let her fly.
My Queen, I'm weary of, and her will marry.
To this, our text, add you what gloss you please;
The secret drifts of kings are depthless seas.

Exeunt

ACT 1 SCENE 2

A table set out covered with black. Two waxen tapers. The King's
[defaced] picture at one end and a crucifix at the other. Onaelia
[dressed in black] walking discontentedly weeping to the crucifix.

A Song.

QUESTION
Oh sorrow, sorrow, say where do'st thou dwell?

ANSWER
In the lowest room of hell.

QUESTION
Art thou born of human race?

ANSWER
No, no. I have a fury's <2> face.

QUESTION
Art thou in city, town or court?