The knight who wields his sword for such a mistress.
I cannot but be proud! When late, in Normandy,
Your grace demanded succour of my countrymen,
And beauty in distress shone like the sun
Piercing a summer's cloud—then—then was I
The honour'd cavalier a royal lady
Chose, from the flower of our nobility,
To right her cause, and punish her oppressors.
Marg. Thanks, La Varenne; our cause is bound to you;