_Hen._ Thy brother? Call me that no more. My bride! The sleeping angel I would kiss awake, For waking thou art human and can love. Ah, Glaia, none doth know how I have dreamed, For kings must give up all just to be kings-- How oft at night I've left the palace world To find me lodging in the sweeter air Where spirits hold their gentle pageantries, And meet the winds that blow from destiny Pregnant with fortune for my famished soul,-- While they who stood about the royal bed, Whose stealthful eyes held me in silken jail, Knew not my body lay untenanted And they but guarded clay. And everywhere 'Twas thee I sought, my Glaia. When you came, I looked, and knew that I need dream no more. _Gla._ And thou art no more sad? I make thee happy? _Hen._ When I am with thee 'tis continual Spring, For in my heart is such sweet jugglery Each winter-ragged month doth put on May. _Gla._ It makes me fear to be so much to thee. O, Henry, leave me,--leave me here a child That never shall be woman,--ne'er shall seek The bitter knowledge of the human world. [_A fawn comes to her from the wood. She fondles it_] See, brother! I would ope no book less pure Than these large eyes. Ah, me, was ever soul So full of earth as mine? I can love nothing But woods and streams, and these unspeaking things That reasonless may build no dream of God. My Henry, why this fear that if I go From this dear world I'll come to it no more? _Hen._ Cast off the doubt--and here I trample it. We shall come often to this home of peace. But, Glaia, let us go. The hours run fast, And eve must find me at the court. _Gla._ The court? There does my rival in my lover speak. There speaks my enemy, for in the court I shall find that will make these fears all plain. _Hen._ Fear nothing now! I see thou knowest how To please me best, making me woo thee o'er And o'er again, for naught could be more sweet! [_Exeunt. Curtain_] SCENE 2. _Room in Westminster palace. The earl of Kent and countess of Albemarle talking._ _Kent._ Why do you doubt? You've ever trusted me. _La. Alb._ Ay, while you were all man. _Kent._ So am I now. _La. Alb._ Nay, you are one half woman, being married. A wife's the key may ope her husband's heart To all the world. She is the pick and pry To every lock of trust, and weasels through His secrets spite all seals. Swear, Hubert, swear That Margaret shall not know! _Kent._ Have I not sworn? How many times will you demand my oath? _La. Alb._ A thousand thousand will not bring me peace!