Queen.
Nay, go not from me—I will follow thee.

King.
Be patient, gentle Queen, and I will stay.

Queen.
Who can be patient in such extremes?
Ah, wretched man! that I had never known thee,
Or borne a son to thee! Unnatural father!
Hath he deserved to lose his birth-right thus?
Hadst thou but lov'd him half as well as I,
Or felt that pain which I did feel for him,
Or nourish'd him, as I did, with my blood,
Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-stream there,
Rather than made that savage Duke thine heir,
And disinherited thine only Son.

King.
Pardon me, Margaret; pardon me, sweet Queen!
The Earl of Warwick and the Duke enforced me.

Queen.
Enforced thee? Art thou King, and wilt be forced?
I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch!
Thou hast undone thyself, thy Son, and me.
What hast thou done, but built thy sepulchre,
To creep into it far before your time?
Yet thinkest thou to be safe?—such safety finds
The trembling lamb, environed with wolves.
Had I been there, who am a silly woman,
The soldiers should have toss'd me on their pikes,
Before I would have yielded to that act.
But thou prefer'st thy life before thine honour—
And, since thou dost, I here divorce myself
Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed,
Until my Son's inheritance return.
The northern Lords, that have forsworn thy colours,
Will follow mine, soon as they see them spread,
(As spread they shall be,) to thy foul disgrace,
And utter ruin of the House of York.

King.
Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak.

Queen.
Thou'st spoke too much already. Henceforth be silent.
When I return with Victory from the field,
I'll see your Grace again—Till then, farewell! [Exit.

King.
Poor Queen! Her love to me and to her Son
Hath made her break out into terms of rage.
Reveng'd may she be on that hateful Duke,
Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire,
Will truss my Crown, and like a famish'd Eagle,
Tire on the flesh of me, and of my Son. Exit.

Previous section

Next section