Because this princess was no more nor less
Than Henry Second's mistress, and the son,
Whose death is laid to Kent, was the vile fruit
Of wantonness. A princess! I'd forgive
A milkmaid false, but error in the great
Is so bestarred by its exalted place
That those beneath mistake what is so lustered
For the true sun.
La. Alb. Hast seen the king, my lord?
Alb. I say 'tis guilt of such a heinous sort,