Hen. Well, to forfend the bating of his praise
In my poor mind, I'll give a lasting proof
Of how I hold him, and here forfeit right
To Margaret's hand in favor of De Burgh.
Alb. My liege! The princess?
Hen. He is now an earl;
And if I not complain, should any here?
Alb. But, sire——
Pem. [Aside to Albemarle] Submit! 'Tis only for an hour.
Alb. Pardon me that I thought to save you, sire