Changed to a worser shape thou canst not be. O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper man; No shape but his can please your dainty eye. A plaguing mischief light on Charles and thee! And may ye both be suddenly surprised By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds! Fell banning hag, enchantress, hold thy tongue! I prithee, give me leave to curse awhile. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the stake. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner. O fairest beauty, do not fear nor fly! For I will touch thee but with reverent hands; I kiss these fingers for eternal peace, And lay them gently on thy tender side. Who art thou? say, that I may honour thee. Margaret my name, and daughter to a king, The King of Naples, whosoe'er thou art. An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd. Be not offended, nature's miracle, Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me: So doth the swan her downy cygnets save, Keeping them prisoner underneath her wings. Yet, if this servile usage once offend. Go, and be free again, as Suffolk's friend. O, stay! I have no power to let her pass; My hand would free her, but my heart says no As plays the sun upon the glassy streams, Twinkling another counterfeited beam, So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak: I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind. Fie, de la Pole! disable not thyself; Hast not a tongue? is she not here? Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight? Ay, beauty's princely majesty is such, Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough. Say, Earl of Suffolk--if thy name be so-- What ransom must I pay before I pass? For I perceive I am thy prisoner. How canst thou tell she will deny thy suit, Before thou make a trial of her love? Why speak'st thou not? what ransom must I pay? She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd; She is a woman, therefore to be won. Wilt thou accept of ransom? yea, or no. Fond man, remember that thou hast a wife; Then how can Margaret be thy paramour? I were best to leave him, for he will not hear. There all is marr'd; there lies a cooling card. He talks at random; sure, the man is mad. And yet a dispensation may be had. And yet I would that you would answer me. I'll win this Lady Margaret. For whom? Why, for my