Your wondrous rare description, noble earl,

Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish’d me.

Her virtues graced with external gifts

Do breed love’s settled passions in my heart,

And like as rigor of tempestuous gusts

Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide,

So am I driven by breath of her renown

Either to suffer shipwreck or arrive

Where I may have fruition of her love.

Tush, my good lord, this superficial tale

Is but a preface of her worthy praise;

The chief perfections of that lovely dame,

Had I sufficient skill to utter them,

Would make a volume of enticing lines,

Able to ravish any dull conceit;

And, which is more, she is not so divine,

So full replete with choice of all delights,

But with as humble lowliness of mind

She is content to be at your command;

Command, I mean, of virtuous chaste intents,

To love and honour Henry as her lord.

And otherwise will Henry ne’er presume.

Therefore, my Lord Protector, give consent

That Margaret may be England’s royal queen.

So should I give consent to flatter sin.

You know, my lord, your Highness is betroth’d

Unto another lady of esteem.

How shall we then dispense with that contract,

And not deface your honour with reproach?

As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths;

Or one that, at a triumph having vow’d

To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists

By reason of his adversary’s odds.

A poor earl’s daughter is unequal odds,

And therefore may be broke without offence.

Why, what, I pray, is Margaret more than that?

Her father is no better than an earl,

Although in glorious titles he excel.

Yes, my lord, her father is a king,

The King of Naples and Jerusalem;

And of such great authority in France

As his alliance will confirm our peace,

And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance.

And so the Earl of Armagnac may do,

Because he is near kinsman unto Charles.

Beside, his wealth doth warrant a liberal dower,

Where Reignier sooner will receive than give.

A dower, my lords? Disgrace not so your king,

That he should be so abject, base, and poor,

To choose for wealth and not for perfect love.

Henry is able to enrich his queen,

And not to seek a queen to make him rich;

So worthless peasants bargain for their wives,

As market-men for oxen, sheep, or horse.

Marriage is a matter of more worth

Than to be dealt in by attorneyship;

Not whom we will, but whom his Grace affects,

Must be companion of his nuptial bed.

And therefore, lords, since he affects her most,

Most of all these reasons bindeth us

In our opinions she should be preferr’d.

For what is wedlock forced but a hell,

An age of discord and continual strife?

Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss,

And is a pattern of celestial peace.

Whom should we match with Henry, being a king,

But Margaret, that is daughter to a king?

Her peerless feature, joined with her birth,

Approves her fit for none but for a king;

Her valiant courage and undaunted spirit,

More than in women commonly is seen,

Will answer our hope in issue of a king;

For Henry, son unto a conqueror,

Is likely to beget more conquerors,

If with a lady of so high resolve

As is fair Margaret he be link’d in love.

Then yield, my lords; and here conclude with me

That Margaret shall be queen, and none but she.

Whether it be through force of your report,

My noble Lord of Suffolk, or for that

My tender youth was never yet attaint

With any passion of inflaming love,

I cannot tell; but this I am assured,

I feel such sharp dissension in my breast,

Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear,

As I am sick with working of my thoughts.

Take therefore shipping; post, my lord, to France;

Agree to any covenants, and procure

That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come

To cross the seas to England and be crown’d

King Henry’s faithful and anointed queen.

For your expenses and sufficient charge,

Among the people gather up a tenth.

Be gone, I say; for till you do return,

I rest perplexed with a thousand cares.

And you, good uncle, banish all offence.

If you do censure me by what you were,

Not what you are, I know it will excuse

This sudden execution of my will.

And so conduct me where, from company,

I may revolve and ruminate my grief.

Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first and last.

Thus Suffolk hath prevail’d; and thus he goes,

As did the youthful Paris once to Greece,

With hope to find the like event in love,

But prosper better than the Troyan did.

Margaret shall now be queen, and rule the King;

But I will rule both her, the King, and realm.