Vor. How! do ye murmur? Must I then humble,
And stoop the neck to bear my children’s yoke?
Begone, I say! lest that my present wrath
Make me forget the place by blood I hold,
And break the tie ’twixt father and his child.
Wort. We shall retire, my lord.
Vor. Here sit, fair maid! if I presage not vainly,
Thou shalt, ere long, by right assume this place.
Row. How can I merit love of such a King?
An humble vassal only.