Hub. O, 'tis not to be borne!
Hen. I' faith, thou 'rt plain.
Hub. O, dear my liege, I mean——
Hen. Well, sir, I have another blessing for thee
May prove more welcome. How wouldst like a wife
Of royal blood? I will not tell her name,
But take my word that were my heart not bound
I'd look her way for fetters. She is fair,
Ay, perfect as the lily plucked to grace
A Lord's day altar, yet is proud enough