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.

_Val_. O, that this love may last! 'tis sprung so hie,
Like flowers at full growth that grow to die.

_Enter Julia, with a vaile over her head, Otho with
another, with Officers_.

_Duke_. What means these sable vailes upon their faces?

_Val_. In signe they sorrow for your high displeasure.
For since the houre they were imprisoned,
They have liv'd like strangers, hood-winkt together.
You may atchieve great fame, victorious Lord,
To save the lives of two such innocents.

_Duke_. Tis pretty in thee, my soule lov'd Dutchesse,
To make this Princely motion for thy foes.
Let it suffice, the'are traitors to the state,
Confederators with those that sought my life,
A kinne to _Fredericke_, that presumptious boy,
That durst beare armes against his naturall father:
Are they more deare then he? off with their vailes.

_Mon_. O yet be mercifull unto your daughter.

_Duke_. You make me mad, headsman; dispatch I say,
They are doom'd to die, and this the latest day.

_Otho_. Then let him strike, who ever traitors be,
I am sure no treason lives in her or me.

_Duke_. How now, whats here? _Otho_ and _Julia_!
Am I deluded? where is _E