_Alb._ My honored liege, these swords, Surer than bended knees, bespeak your safety. Knowing that treachery oft defames the ranks Of those who shine as the highpriests of God, I and my brother barons came thus armed, Thinking it better so to break our oaths Than that false hands should break your kingly staff. _Hen._ For my protection then you do offend? _Alb._ For that alone, my liege, we wear this armor. _Hen._ And you, lord bishop, guardian of our person By prayer and Heavenly counsel,--who even in war Should wear no sword but that of righteousness,-- Confess you with these warlike blades thy Lord Unable to defend his own? _Win._ My liege, 'Tis in His name, to work His equal justice, We bear these weapons, sacred by our cause. [_Enter Gualo_] _Gua._ Your majesty, the nuns of Beda's abbey Would enter now. _Cant._ The nuns? What do they here? _Hen._ You know, your grace, since blessed Edward's time 'T has been their privilege on days of prayer To join their voices with the court and state. _Cant._ A privilege, but never yet in practice. _Hen._ The more is England's shame that has not seen For so long past a day of general prayer And utter peace. Not in our time, nor John's, Nor Richard's 'fore him, nay, nor greater Henry's, Might Beda's sisters claim this privilege. Lord Cardinal, bid them in. [_Exit Gualo_] _Alb._ Nay, nay, my liege, This is no place for women. _Hen._ Are they not Forever foremost in both prayer and peace? By Heaven's King, they've more right here than we! [_Enter nuns, led by the abbess, who kneels before the king_] _Hen._ Rise, holy abbess. _Abb._ Sovereign of England, May Heaven's Sovereign protect thy youth! And as thy hand is on thy sceptre laid Feel there the Hand invisible from whence Thy power comes, and know thy way as His. [_Henry bows his head. The abbess and nuns pass to a station apart and kneel_] _Hen._ Say on, lord bishop. Let us hear how priests May break an oath and Heaven smile upon it. _Win._ These papers, dearest liege, are warrant for us. There is one here so steeped in guilt, the pope Commands his sentence by our Spiritual Court; And knowing crime so deep makes fierce defence, We came thus armed. _Hen._ Who of my subjects is so basely given The pope must urge the sword of justice 'gainst him? _Win._ He is so high in your esteem, my liege---- _Hen._ Now were he next ourself, our very love, Excepting one, the noble earl of Kent, Whom only calumny dare censure, we Should yield him to thee. _Win._ So? Then we did well To wear these arms, for 'tis no less than Kent Whom we accuse.