King of Navarre consort of Henry II Queen Marguerite

Biographical details

King of Navarre consort of Henry II Queen Marguerite The Heptameron of Margaret, Queen of Navarre

Ah, my Lady Duchess, what delight it was to you to taunt me with my little dog! Rejoice, then, in the happiness you owe to me alone; taunt her who thought by careful concealment and virtuous love to be free from any taunt. Ah! how those words have bruised my heart! how they have made me blush for shame and pale for jealousy! Alas, my heart, I feel that thou art indeed undone! The wicked love that has discovered me burns thee; jealousy of thee and evil intent towards thee are to thee as ice and death; while wrath and sorrow do not suffer me to comfort thee.
Source: Gutenberg

King of Navarre consort of Henry II Queen Marguerite The Tales of the Heptameron, Vol… (1894)

Tis he who, contrary to his oath and promise, has made known the happy life which, wronging none, we so long have led together. O my beloved, the love of whom alone has entered into my heart, and preserved my life, must you now be declared my deadly foe, while mine honour is given to the winds, my body to the dust, and my soul to its everlasting abode? Is the beauty of the Duchess so exceeding great that, like the beauty of Circe, it has bewitched and transformed you? Has she turned you from virtue to vice, from goodness to wickedness, from being a man to be a beast of prey?
Source: Gutenberg

King of Navarre consort of Henry II Queen Marguerite The Tales of the Heptameron, Vol… (1894)

Nay; on this journey I would rather die Than know that thou hadst fallen, and that I Had wrought thy shame and foully brought to harm The virtue which thy heart wraps round thy form. ‘Tis thy perfection that I love in thee, Nought that might lessen it could ever be Desire of mine—indeed, the nobler thou, The greater were the love I to thee vow. I do not seek an ardent flame to quench In lustful dalliance with some merry wench, Pure is my heart, ‘neath reason’s calm control Set on a lady of such lofty soul, That neither God above nor angel bright, But seeing her, would echo my delight.
Source: Gutenberg

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