_Hen._ O, Hubert! What am I? Let me crawl to thy feet, cast off my crown As I cast off this cowl, and lie in dust Before thee! O, too late! [_To friar_] 'Tis as you guessed. And each confessed in sacrificial love Hoping to save the other. Tell me now Who plays the angel here? _Fr._ My liege, one who Would not be here but that he fears no death. [_Removes his cowl_] _Hen._ Roland! _Wynne._ My king! _Hen._ Not king, but friend, And equal in this woe. Rise! 'Tis no time To kneel. What must we do? Now Margaret Is safe--but Hubert? Even now they doom him. Barons and church are leagued to prove him guilty, Nor have I power against their proof to pardon And keep my throne. _Wynne._ Take courage. Thou art king. _Hen._ To th' tower then. If majesty is yet A word of might, we'll dare them all. _Wynne._ Now speaks Yourself. _Hen._ I'll be the king! _Wynne._ You fill my heart With singing prophecies. _Hen._ But first we'll give An order for the noble burial Of this poor woman. Glaia's mother, Roland. She called me brother, and would have it so. Ah, little sister, did the angels tell you? You lived so much with them.... 'Twas I who killed her. My very hand, and not this poor mad woman's. I slew them both. Oh, oh, oh! _Wynne._ Dear my lord, Leave grief unto the grave, that it best decks; The living call us now. _Hen._ You talk so, sir, Who did not love her. _Wynne._ O, my lord! _Hen._ You did. Forgive me, friend, that I forgot your heart. _Wynne._ If constancy past sacrifice of hope Is love, I loved her, sire. If to be true To every wish that rises from her grave Is love, I love her still. But you, my liege, Cloud your fidelity, wasting in tears The moments now devoted by the stars To rescue one she loved. _Hen._ Shame me no more. We'll give an order here, then to the tower! [_Exeunt_] ACT IV SCENE 1. _The council chamber in the Tower of London. Barons and prelates assembled. Archbishop of Canterbury presiding. Princess Adelais present, attended by several French nobles and her women. She advances before the archbishop._