Suf. A Iewell lockt into the wofulst Caske,
That euer did containe a thing of worth,
Euen as a splitted Barke, so sunder we:
This way fall I to death
Qu. This way for me.
Exeunt.
Enter the King, Salisbury, and Warwicke, to the Cardinal in bed.
King. How fare's my Lord? Speake Beauford to thy
Soueraigne
Ca. If thou beest death, Ile giue thee Englands Treasure,
Enough to purchase such another Island,
So thou wilt let me liue, and feele no paine
King. Ah, what a signe it is of euill life,
Where death's approach is seene so terrible