Vor. Thy meekness and sweet looks have won my soul.
O! let thy tongue here title me thy lord!
Row. Already, sir, have I avow’d you King.
Vor. And, therefore, here I do proclaim thee Queen.
Good Hengist, speak! wilt thou consent hereto?
Heng. My lord, that honour is too weighty.
Vor. Then speak, my lords: what say ye to my choice?
True, I am married, and my wife doth live;
Yet none, methinks, by law, can here be bound,
When the dread wrath of heaven doth show itself,