To a most noble lady.
Hen. Married? Ha!
Nor asked consent of me? Not one
"By your good leave, my king"?
Fr. Seb. If in my words
So soon you find affront to majesty,
I dare not tell you more.
Hen. Nay, I'll forgive him.
Remembering his service 'twere too stern
To make contention of his marriage.