[Aside.] I must feign somewhat.--Thus they say it grew.
You have heard it rumour'd, for these many years
None of our family dies but there is seen
The shape of an old woman, which is given
By tradition to us to have been murder'd
By her nephews for her riches. Such a figure
One night, as the prince sat up late at 's book,
Appear'd to him; when crying out for help,
The gentleman of 's chamber found his grace
All on a cold sweat, alter'd much in face
And language: since which apparition,
He hath grown worse and worse, and I much fear
He cannot live.
BOSOLA. Sir, I would speak with you.
PESCARA. We 'll leave your grace,
Wishing to the sick prince, our noble lord,
All health of mind and body.
CARDINAL. You are most welcome.
[Exeunt PESCARA, MALATESTI, and DOCTOR.]
Are you come? so.--[Aside.] This fellow must not know
By any means I had intelligence
In our duchess' death; for, though I counsell'd it,
The full of all th' engagement seem'd to grow
>From Ferdinand.--Now, sir, how fares our sister?
I do not think but sorrow makes her look
Like to an oft-dy'd garment: she shall now
Take comfort from me.
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