Win. A tone you'll tune to, sir.
Didst think me such a fool to stay and fall
With Henry into Louis' hands? Nay, I've
No wish to enter that small cell of earth
Which needs no turnkey, as you say.
Alb. What, sir?
Win. No, by the Lord! At the first castle where
You planned to stop I had my servants laid
To take you prisoners. It stirs my blood
That you should think I came to the bishopric