SUFFOLK.
His love.
MARGARET.
I am unworthy to be Henry’s wife.
SUFFOLK.
No, gentle madam, I unworthy am
To woo so fair a dame to be his wife,
And have no portion in the choice myself.
How say you, madam, are ye so content?
MARGARET.
An if my father please, I am content.
SUFFOLK.
Then call our captains and our colours forth.
And, madam, at your father’s castle walls
We’ll crave a parley, to confer with him.
A parley sounded. Enter Reignier on the walls.
See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner!
REIGNIER.
To whom?
SUFFOLK.
To me.
REIGNIER.
Suffolk, what remedy?
I am a soldier, and unapt to weep
Or to exclaim on fortune’s fickleness.