To hold your new-dropped dignities above
The mire and brambles of the common way;
And all this, sir, shall be your wedded wife.
Hub. My lord——
Hen. Nay, do not thank me. Ah, at last
I've touched the key of gratitude. Indeed,
My Hubert, you are pale with this new joy.
I almost, fear to tell you she is there—
Within that room—and waiting your approach.
Hub. My royal lord—I beg——