Fred.  O happie meanes, given by a trecherous hand,
To be my true guide to the heavenly land! 
Death steales upon me like a silken sleepe;
Through every vaine doe leaden rivers flowe,[213]
The gentlest poyson that I ever knewe,
To work so coldly, yet to be so true. 
Like to an infant patiently I goe,
Out of this vaine world, from all worldly woe;
Thankes to the meanes, tho they deserve no thankes,
My soule beginnes t’ore-flow these fleshly bankes. 
My death I pardon unto her and you,
My sinnes God pardon; so vaine world adiew.
                                 [He falls asleep.

Valen.  Ha, ha, ha.

Mon.  Hee’s dead, why does your highnesse laugh?

Valen.  Why, Lord Montano, that I love to see,
He that hath sav’d my life, to die for me. 
But theres a riddle in this Princes death,
And Ile explaine it on this floore of earth. 
Come, to his sisters execution goe,
We have varietie of joyes in woe. 
I am sure, you have heard his Excellence did sweare
Both of their heads should grace a Kingly beare. 
Upon a mourning hearse let him be layd;
He shalbe intombed with a wived maid.

[Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

[SCENE 1.]

Enter Duke, Hatto, and Alfred.

Duke.  Bring forth the prisoners:  wher’s my beauteous Dutches
That she may see the ruine of her foes? 
She that upbraided her with slanderous wordes,
She that in scorne of due obedience
Hath matcht the honour of the Saxons blood
Unto a beggar; let them be brought foorth,
I will not rise from this tribunal seate
Till I have seene their bodies from their heads.

Alfred.  Here comes the Dutches with proud Fredericks hearse.

    Enter, Valentia, Montano, Vandermas, with others,
    bearing the hearse, with Fredericke on, covered
    with a black robe.

Duke.  So, set it downe:  why have you honored it
With such a sable coverture?  A traytor,
Deserves no cloth of sorrow:  set it downe,
And let our other offspring be brought foorth. 
My beauteous, lovely, and admired love,
Come, sit by us in an imperiall chayre,
And grace this state throne with a state more fayre.

Valen.  My gracious Lord, I hope your Excellence
Will not be so forgetfull of your honour,
Prove so unnaturall to your loving daughter
As to bereave her of her life
Because she hath wedded basely gainst your will. 
Though Fredericke dyed deservedly, yet shee
May by her loves death clear her indignitie.

Duke.  She and her love we have sentenced to die,
Not for her marriage onely, tho that deede
Crownes the contempt with a deserved death,
But chiefly for she raild against thy worth,
Upbraided thee with tearmes so monstrous base
That nought but death can cleare the great disgrace. 
How often shall I charge they be brought foorth? 
Were my heart guilty of a crime so vilde,
I’de rend it forth, then much more kill my childe.