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SCENE VIII.
Ambassadoralone, looking at the Letter.
No superscription here. Her troubled mind
Forgot to add the name. Ha! Yes, by heaven!—
It dawns, the work of fortune and of fate—
This to the Dauphin I will straight address,
And warn the wishing bridegroom of the secret.
A passion slighted, and a rival loved!
This is the insult, the fell injury
Which man or woman never can forgive.
With Albemarle then Arden is at war;
The Normans hence and Saxons will divide,
And thus divided may be conquered still.
Ardent in arms impetuous Britain sights,
Refined in arts, France plots and overcomes.
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