DUNOIS.
These upstart burghers' haughty insolence!
CHARLES.
Hast thou attempted with my mother aught?
LA HIRE.
With her?
CHARLES.
Ay! How did she demean herself?
LA HIRE (after a few moments' reflection).
I chanced to step within St. Denis' walls
Precisely at the royal coronation.
The crowds were dressed as for a festival;
Triumphal arches rose in every street
Through which the English monarch was to pass.
The way was strewed with flowers, and with huzzas,
As France some brilliant conquest had achieved,
The people thronged around the royal car.
SOREL.
They could huzza—huzza, while trampling thus
Upon a gracious sovereign's loving heart!
LA HIRE.
I saw young Harry Lancaster—the boy—
On good St. Lewis' regal chair enthroned;
On either side his haughty uncles stood,
Bedford and Gloucester, and before him kneeled,
To render homage for his lands, Duke Philip.
CHARLES.
Oh, peer dishonored! Oh, unworthy cousin!
LA HIRE.
The child was timid, and his footing lost
As up the steps he mounted towards the throne.
An evil omen! murmured forth the crowd,
And scornful laughter burst on every side.
Then forward stepped Queen Isabel—thy mother,
And—but it angers me to utter it!
CHARLES.
Say on.