Pembroke is dead. The barons to covert slink,
Saying their loyalty binds them to fight
No farther than the shore. The bishops smirk
Beneath their mitres, roll their eyes and cry
"God and great Rome, deliver us!" which means
Deliver us to Louis, king of monks
And darling of the pope.
Hub. And Albemarle?
Rol. Stands by the king, and ready with his men
To meet the foe on land, but not a soul