_Hen._ This was given, sir, For open use in Kent's defence. In short, I was that priest, my lord, and played the monk To better purpose than I've played the king. _Cant._ Your majesty---- _Hen._ Is pleased to speak, your grace This then, my lords, proves Kent had holy reason For thwarting my vain love. _Alb._ Could this be true And Kent not speak when a bare word had saved him? _Hen._ Have you been home to-day, my lord? _Alb._ My liege, Since morn I've ridden hard, and was much pushed To arrive in season for the trial. _Hen._ What news From north? _Alb._ 'Twas south I rode, your majesty, About my shore estates. _Pem._ Sire, I informed you---- _Hen._ Ay, so. _Alb._ What should I do at home, my liege? _Hen._ Comfort your lady, who fast droops to death. _Alb._ My wife? But she was well when I set forth. _Hen._ You'll find her changed! But we must speak of Kent. My lords, he was close pledged not to betray The maiden's parentage for this good reason. Her mother was his sister, living in dread Of her harsh present lord, and she besought, Past power to resist, his oath to die Ere he should make it known. I know not who Of you would prove so true to oaths if death Lay in the keeping, or what hearts are here Would drain themselves to guard a sister's life. _Cant._ Who is this sister, sire? _Alb._ This shows that kings May even be duped like poorer men. All know That Kent's sole sister is my countess. _Hen._ Sir, We've no mind to deny you. It is she We mean,--the lady Albemarle. [_Albemarle staggers_] _Pem._ My lord---- _Alb._ Air! Stand from me! Give way! I must be gone! _Hen._ We must command you stay. _Alb._ This air is poison! _Hen._ Stay, sir! _Alb._ I say not to the king 'tis false, But to each British lord who hears I swear 'Tis a foul lie! _Hen._ My ears, sir, registered Her last confession, that 'twas her hand struck Her daughter's heart, her child and John's. _Alb._ Let go! It was her malady that spoke. I'll to her And rival death in tortures! God, I will---- _Hen._ Death has outstripped you, sir. Her breath is gone. _Alb._ Then I'll inflict her body till her ghost Comes back to shriek in it! _Hen._ You're yet too late. We've given orders for her due interment As mother of our sister. _Alb._ Ha! My servants! You guard my house? _Hen._ We do, my lord. _Win._ [_Aside to Canterbury_] Haste, sir, Or Kent will yet escape.