O, stay! I have no power to let her pass;
My hand would free her, but my heart says no.
As plays the sun upon the glassy streams,
Twinkling another counterfeited beam,
So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes.
Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak.
I’ll call for pen and ink, and write my mind.
Fie, de la Pole, disable not thyself;
Hast not a tongue? Is she not here?
Wilt thou be daunted at a woman’s sight?
Ay, beauty’s princely majesty is such
Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough.
MARGARET.
Say, Earl of Suffolk, if thy name be so,
What ransom must I pay before I pass?
For I perceive I am thy prisoner.
SUFFOLK.
How canst thou tell she will deny thy suit,
Before thou make a trial of her love?
MARGARET.
Why speak’st thou not? What ransom must I pay?
SUFFOLK.
She’s beautiful, and therefore to be woo’d;
She is a woman, therefore to be won.
MARGARET.
Wilt thou accept of ransom, yea, or no?
SUFFOLK.
Fond man, remember that thou hast a wife;
Then how can Margaret be thy paramour?
MARGARET.
I were best leave him, for he will not hear.
SUFFOLK.
There all is marr’d; there lies a cooling card.
MARGARET.
He talks at random; sure, the man is mad.