Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak:
I’ll call for pen and ink, and write my mind.
Fie, de la Pole! disable not thyself;
Hast not a tongue? is she not here?
Wilt thou be daunted at a woman’s sight?
IS SHE NOT HERE?
Suffolk: IMMEDIATE HUMAN DISASTER.
The best thing about this—as is the best thing about this whole scene—is that textually, in all their asides, they can hear each other. So Margaret’s on the sidelines, listening to his brain spin itself into a lusty milkshake inside his skull, hearing every word as he gets more frantic and more flustered and more knotted up with feelings and strategic improv, and occasionally interjecting, “So are you going to ransom me? How much money are you going to ask for? Speak up any time.”
(And then when he’s finally figured out how to make these feelings into political currency, he turns round and so does she, turns away and starts asiding to herself about how he’ll clearly be fair to her even though he has her at such a power discrepancy, he just seems like the sort—he finally comes out and asks her why she’s talking out loud and not to him, and she replies, “I cry you mercy, ‘tis but quid pro quo.” I’m trying not to quote the whole thing but it’s perfect they’re perfect they’re textually engaged flirtatious powerflip perfection and it’s one of my favorite scenes in the whole of Shakespeare because it’s perfect now you know)