Rich. And he—is Louis.

Alb. Till we find hour fit

To cast his yoke and take a sovereign

Of our election.

Rich. Royal Albemarle!

Alb. Here stand we then. De Burgh we count as dead.

Le Moine has orders to strike off his head

Soon as he's taken. Now we get the king

To Dover fort, on pretence to defend it.

There the besieging French will take him prisoner,