Cor.
Alack, 'tis he; why he was met even now
As mad as the vext sea, singing aloud,
Crown'd with rank fenitar, and furrow weeds,
With hardocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckow flowers,
Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow
In our sustaining corn. Send forth a cent'ry,
Search every acre in the high-grown field,
And bring him to our eye. What can man's wisdom
In the restoring his bereaved sense?

He that helps him, take all my outward worth.

Phys.
There are means, Madam:
Our foster nurse of nature, is repose,
The which he lacks; that to provoke in him,
Are many simples operative, whose power
Will close the eye of anguish.

Cor.
All blest secrets!
All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth!
Spring with my tears; be aidant, and remediate
In the good man's ^{c note}distress: seek, seek for him,
Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life
That wants the means to lead it. Enter a Messenger.

Mes.
News, Madam:
The British pow'rs are marching hitherward.

Cord.
'Tis known before. Our preparation stands
In expectation of them. O dear father,
It is thy business that I go about: therefore great France
My mourning and important tears hath pitied.
No blown ambition doth our arms incite,
But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right:
Soon may I hear, and see him! [Exeunt.

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