MARGARET.
I cry you mercy, ’tis but quid for quo.
SUFFOLK.
Say, gentle princess, would you not suppose
Your bondage happy, to be made a queen?
MARGARET.
To be a queen in bondage is more vile
Than is a slave in base servility;
For princes should be free.
SUFFOLK.
And so shall you,
If happy England’s royal king be free.
MARGARET.
Why, what concerns his freedom unto me?
SUFFOLK.
I’ll undertake to make thee Henry’s queen,
To put a golden scepter in thy hand
And set a precious crown upon thy head,
If thou wilt condescend to be my—
MARGARET.
What?
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?