_Fool._ Why, as to a General, I can stand you in little stead; but if such a simple thing as a Queen can content you, I am your only man: for being a proper fellow, and a huge tickler up of a lady's fancy, I may chance to push your fortune as far as another. Truly, you fell into good hands when you stumbled on me. [_Flourish._] Stand back, here comes royalty. _Enter QUEEN MARGARET, DUKE OF SOMERSET, LA VARENNE, SENESCHAL OF NORMANDY, with KNIGHTS and SOLDIERS, from the Tent._ _Som._ Here, if it please you, madam, we'll debate. Our tented councils but disturb the King, And break his pious meditations. _Marg._ True, Duke of Somerset; for some there are Who, idly stretch'd upon the bank of life, Sleep till the stream runs dry.--Is't not vexatious, That frolic nature, as it were, in mockery, Should in the rough, and lusty mould of manhood, Encrust a feeble mind!--Well, upon me Must rest the load of war.--Assist me, then, Ye powers of just revenge! fix deep the memory Of injured majesty! heat my glowing fancy With all the glittering pride of high dominion; That, when we meet the traitors who usurp it, My breast shall swell with manly indignation, And spur me on to enterprise. _La Var._ Oh! happy The knight who wields his sword for such a mistress. I cannot but be proud! When late, in Normandy, Your grace demanded succour of my countrymen, And beauty in distress shone like the sun Piercing a summer's cloud--then--then was I The honour'd cavalier a royal lady Chose, from the flower of our nobility, To right her cause, and punish her oppressors. _Marg._ Thanks, La Varenne; our cause is bound to you; And my particular bond of obligation Is stamp'd, my lord, with the warm seal of gratitude. Yours is a high and gallant spirit, lord! Impatient of inaction, even in peace It manifests its owner: for, I found you, In fertile France, (that nurse of courtesy) Our sex's foremost champion;--in the tournament Bearing away the prize, that you might lay it At some fair lady's feet: thus, in rehearsal, Training the martial mind to feats of chivalry; That, when occasion call'd for real service, It ever was found ready--witness the troops You lead to action.--Say, lords, think you not That these, our high-bred Normans, mingled with Our hardy Scottish friends, like fire in flint, Will, when the iron hand of battle strikes, Produce such hot and vivid sparks of valour, That the pale House of York, aghast with fear, Shall perish in the flame it rashly kindled? _La Var._ No doubt, no doubt! 'Would that the time were come, when our bright swords Shall end the contest! Since I pledged myself To fight this cause, delay's as irksome to me, As to the mettled boy, contracted to The nymph he burns for, when cold blooded age Procrastinates the marriage ceremony.