That's soon perform'd, because I am a subject.
Why, then, thy husband's lands I freely give thee.
I take my leave with many thousand thanks.
The match is made; she seals it
with a curtsy.
But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I mean.
The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege.
Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense.
What love, think'st thou, I sue so much to get?
My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers;
That love which virtue begs and virtue grants.
No, by my troth, I did not mean such love.
Why, then you mean not as I thought you did.
But now you partly may perceive my mind.
My mind will never grant what I perceive
Your highness aims at, if I aim aright.
To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee.
To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison.
Why, then thou shalt not have thy husband's lands.
Why, then mine honesty shall be my dower;
For by that loss I will not purchase them.
Therein thou wrong'st thy children mightily.
Herein your highness wrongs both them and me.
But, mighty lord, this merry inclination
Accords not with the sadness of my suit:
Please you dismiss me either with 'ay' or 'no.'
Ay, if thou wilt say 'ay' to my request;
No if thou dost say 'no' to my demand.
Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an end.
The widow likes him not, she
knits her brows.
He is the bluntest wooer in
Christendom.
Her looks do argue her replete with modesty;
Her words do show her wit incomparable;
All her perfections challenge sovereignty:
One way or other, she is for a king;
And she shall be my love, or else my queen.--
Say that King Edward take thee for his queen?
'Tis better said than done, my gracious lord:
I am a subject fit to jest withal,
But far unfit to be a sovereign.
Sweet widow, by my state I swear to thee
I speak no more than what my soul intends;
And that is, to enjoy thee for my love.
And that is more than I will yield unto:
I know I am too mean to be your queen,
And yet too good to be your concubine.
You cavil, widow: I did mean, my queen.
'Twill grieve your grace my sons should call you father.
No more than when my daughters call thee mother.
Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children;
And, by God's mother, I