_King._ [Explosively and deliciously.] An angel is like you, Kate; and you are like an angel: faith, I’m glad thou can’st speak no better English: for if thou could’st thou would’st find me such a plain King, that thou would’st think I had sold my farm to buy my crown. If you would put me to verses, or to dance for your sake, Kate, why you undid me. I speak plain soldier. If thou can’st love me for this--take me: if not--to say to thee that I shall die, is true: but--for thy love--by the Lord, no. Yet I love thee too. And whil’st thou livest, Kate, take a fellow of a plain uncoined constancy: a straight-back will stoop; but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon; or rather the sun and not the moon, for it shines bright and never changes. If thou would’st have such a one, take me! _Kate._ Is it possible dat I should love de enemy of France? _King._ No, it’s not possible, Kate: but in loving me you would love the friend of France, for I love France so well, that I will not part with a village of it: I will have it all mine: and, Kate, when France is mine, and I am yours, then yours is France and you are mine. But, Kate, dost thou understand thus much English--Can’st thou love me? _Kate._ I cannot tell. _King._ Can any of your neighbors tell, Kate? _Kate._ I do not know dat. _King._ By mine honor, in true English, I love thee, Kate: by which honor, I dare not swear thou lovest me: yet my blood begins to flatter me, that thou dost. Wilt thou have me Kate? _Kate._ That is as it shall please _le roy mon Père_. _King._ Nay it will please him well, Kate. It _shall_ please him, Kate, and upon that, I kiss your hand and call you “my Queen.” _Kate._ Dat is not de fashion _pour les ladies_ of France--to kiss before marriage. _King._ O Kate, [loftily] _nice customs courtesy to great Kings_:--here comes your father. And these two _did_ marry; the Queen being--as Shakespeare represents--in a large sense, the spoil of war. Out of this union sprung the next King, Henry VI., crowned when an infant. But this does not close the story of Katharine: three years after the King’s death, she married a Welsh knight--named Sir Owen Tudor. (He, poor man, lost his head, some years after, for his temerity in marrying a King’s widow.) But from the second marriage of Katharine, was born a son who became the father of that Henry VII., who sixty years later conquered Richard III. on Bosworth field--brought to an end the wars of York and Lancaster, and gave his own surname of Tudor to his son Henry VIII., to the great Elizabeth and to bloody Mary.