Rise, Hubert, rise, for I must love you still,
Though you have robbed me of the sun and stars.
Kent. [Rises] My noblest sovereign!
Hen. Now let me hear
Why this ne'er mated dove can not be mine,
And I'll attend thee patient as the dead
Do list their requiem.
Kent. Sire, I am pledged.
Such sacred oaths are warders at my lips
That angels would turn pale in Heaven to hear