You may in safety sojourn, till the succour
Which noble Burgundy, warm in beauty's cause,
Once more, no doubt, will lend, again shall plume
The wing of majesty.
Marg. Then, let sharp injury
Subdue base minds alone; its scalding spirit,
Pour'd in a royal breast, will quicken vengeance.
Why, worthy Seneschal, there's hope in't still!
Holds it not likely,
When our dispersed nobility shall hear,