And I wish, my liege, You had only in your silent judgment tried it, Without more overture.
We can:—my royal liege, He is not guilty of her coming hither.
Good my liege, I come,— And, I beseech you, hear me, who professes Myself your loyal servant, your physician, Your most obedient counsellor: yet that dares Less appear so, in comforting your evils, Than such as most seem yours:—I say I come From your good queen.
Now, my liege, Tell me what blessings I have here alive, That I should fear to die.
Now, good my liege, Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman: The love I bore your queen,—lo, fool again!
Sir, my liege, Your eye hath too much youth in’t: not a month ’Fore your queen died, she was more worth such gazes Than what you look on now.
] I like your silence,—it the more shows off Your wonder: but yet speak;—first, you, my liege.