Suf. And so shall you, If happy England's royal king be free. Mar. Why, what concerns his freedom unto me? Suf. I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen; To put a golden scepter in thy hand, And set a precious crown upon thy head, Mar. Suf. His love. What? Mar. I am unworthy to be Henry's wife. Suf. No, gentle madam; I unworthy am To woo so fair a dame to be his wife, And have no portion in the choice myself. How say you, madam; are you so content? Mar. An if my father please, I am content. Suf. Then call our captains, and our colours, forth: And, madam, at your father's castle walls [Troops come forward. A Parley sounded. Enter REIGNIER, on the Walls. Suf. See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner. Reig. To whom? Suf. Reig. To me. Suffolk, what remedy? I am a soldier; and unapt to weep, Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness. Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord: Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty. Suf. Fair Margaret knows, That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign. [Exit, from the Walls. Suf. And here I will expect thy coming. Trumpets sounded. Enter REIGNIER, below. Reig. Welcome, brave earl, into our territories; Command in Anjou what your honour pleases. Suf. Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a child, Fit to be made companion with a king: What answer makes your grace unto my suit? To be the princely bride of such a lord; Enjoy mine own, the county Maine, and Anjou, Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith. Suf. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks, Because this is in traffick of a king: And yet, methinks, I could be well content To be mine own attorney in this case. [Aside. Reig. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace hypocrite. face,] To face is to carry a false appearance; to play the The Christian prince, king Henry, were he here. Mar. Farewell, my lord! Good wishes, praise, and prayers, Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. [Going. Suf. Farewell, sweet madam! But hark you, Margaret; No princely commendations to my king? Mar. Such commendations as become a maid, A virgin, and his servant, say to him. Suf. Words sweetly plac'd, and modestly directed. But, madam, I must trouble you again, No loving token to his majesty? Mar. Yes, my good lord; a pure unspotted heart, Never yet taint with love, I send the king. Suf. And this withal. Kisses her. Mar. That for thyself;-I will not so presume, To send such peevish tokens to a king. Exeunt REIGNIER and MARgaret. Suf. O, wert thou for myself!-But, Suffolk, stay; Thou may'st not wander in that labyrinth; There Minotaurs, and ugly treasons, lurk. Solicit Henry with her wond'rous praise: Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount; Mad, natural graces that extinguish art; Repeat their semblance often on the seas, That, when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's feet, Thou may'st bereave him of his wits with wonder. SCENE IV. Camp of the Duke of York, in Anjou. Enter YORK, WARWICK, and Others. [Exit. York. Bring forth that sorceress, condemn'd to burn. 2 To send such peevish tokens-] Peevish, for childish. 3 Mad,—] i. e. wild, if mad be the word that ought to stand here, which some of the commentators doubt. Enter LA PUCELLE, guarded, and a Shepherd. Shep. Ah, Joan! this kills thy father's heart outright! Have I sought every country far and near, I am descended of a gentler blood; Thou art no father, nor no friend, of mine. not so; I did beget her, all the parish knows: She was the first fruit of my bachelorship. War. Graceless! wilt thou deny thy parentage? York. This argues what her kind of life hath been; Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes. Puc. Peasant, avaunt!-You have suborn'd this man, Of purpose to obscure my noble birth. Shep. 'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest, The morn that I was wedded to her mother.Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl. timeless-] is untimely. • Decrepit miser!] Miser has no relation to avarice in this pas sage, but simply means a miserable creature. 6 that thou wilt be so obstacle!] A vulgar corruption of obstinate, which I think has oddly lasted since our author's time till now. JOHNSON. Wilt thou not stoop? Now cursed be the time Thy mother gave thee, when thou suck'dst her breast, Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake! Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs a-field, I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee! O, burn her, burn her; hanging is too good. [Exit. York. Take her away; for she hath liv'd too long, To fill the world with vicious qualities. Puc. First, let me tell you whom you demn'd: have con Not me begotten of a shepherd swain, Chaste and immaculate in very thought; 7 No, misconceived!] i. e. No, ye misconceivers, ye who mistake me and my qualities. |