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.
SUFFOLK.
Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord:
Consent, and for thy honour give consent,
Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king,
Whom I with pain have woo’d and won thereto;
And this her easy-held imprisonment
Hath gain’d thy daughter princely liberty.
REIGNIER.
Speaks Suffolk as he thinks?
SUFFOLK.
Fair Margaret knows
That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign.