widely opened lips, we might have seen that she has teeth like a beast of prey.[1]
In the next drama, or in Richard III., she appears as personally repulsive, for the sharp teeth have been broken, she can no longer bite, but only ban, and so as a ghostly old woman wanders through the royal chambers, and the toothless old mouth murmurs words of evil omen and execrations.
Yet through her love for Suffolk—"the wild Suffolk"—Shakespeare awakes in us some spark of sympathy even for this un-woman. Sinful or shameful as this love may be, we cannot deny it truth nor earnestness. How apturously beautiful are the two lovers' parting words, and what tenderness in those of Margaret!
" Q. Mar. 0, let me entreat thee, cease! Give me thy hand,
That I may dew it with my mournful tears ;
Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place,
To wash away my woful monuments.
O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand ;
[Kisses his hand.
That thou might'st think upon these by the seal,
Through whom a thousand sighs are breathed for thee !
So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief ;
'Tis but surmised whilst thou art standing by,
As one that surfeits thinking on a want.
- ↑ "She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France."—Third Part of King Henry VI., act i. sc. 4.
