Character

Queen Margaret of Anjou in Henry VI, Part 2

Role: Ambitious foreign queen who manipulates Henry VI and becomes a warrior for her son's claim Family: Daughter of King Reignier of Naples, Sicily, and Jerusalem; wife of King Henry VI; mother of Prince Edward First appearance: Act 1, Scene 1 Last appearance: Act 5, Scene 2 Approx. lines: 66

Margaret of Anjou arrives in England a princess, marrying a king who should rule her but cannot. From her first scene, she recognizes Henry’s weakness—his piety, his passivity, his inability to command—and she moves swiftly to fill the vacuum. She is not content to be queen in title; she will be queen in fact, pulling strings through Suffolk, who loves her, and through the Cardinal, whom she manipulates. When she sees the Duchess of Gloucester walking with “troops of ladies” as if she were the real queen, Margaret’s response is immediate and violent: she strikes her across the face, establishing that this foreign woman will tolerate no rivals and will use her body, her wit, and her rage to secure dominance.

Yet Margaret’s power is always contingent on the men around her. She depends utterly on Suffolk, who brokered her marriage and who now serves as the instrument of her will against Gloucester. When Suffolk is banished—condemned by the commons and by Warwick—Margaret’s world collapses. The scene in which she grieves over his severed head is the play’s most grotesque moment of intimacy: she cradles the head of her lover, speaks to it as if it could hear her, begs it to stay, and then must part from it. She has lost the only man who gave her real power, and from that moment forward, she is diminished. She clings to Henry, tries to protect Somerset in his place, and by the play’s end, is fleeing the battlefield alongside a king who has become entirely ineffectual.

Margaret’s trajectory traces the dangerous arc of ambition unchecked by loyalty or virtue. She enters as a woman determined to rule, willing to manipulate, seduce, and destroy to secure her place. By the end, she is running for her life, her lover dead, her influence over the king evaporating as York’s army approaches. The play suggests that her kind of power—based on manipulation, seduction, and the control of weak men—is inherently fragile. When the structures that support it crumble, she has nothing left but her own fierce will, which proves useless against the real machinery of war and politics. She will survive to fight in the Wars of the Roses, but here, at the close of Part 2, she is already a woman whose moment of dominance has passed.

Key quotes

Follow I must; I cannot go before, While Gloucester bears this base and humble mind. Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood, I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks And smooth my way upon their headless necks; And, being a woman, I will not be slack To play my part in Fortune’s pageant. Where are you there? Sir John! nay, fear not, man, We are alone; here’s none but thee and I.

I must follow; I can’t go ahead, While Gloucester holds such a low and humble mind. If I were a man, a duke, and next in line, I’d remove these annoying obstacles And clear my path over their necks, chopped off; But, being a woman, I won’t be slow To play my part in the game of fortune. Where are you? Sir John! No need to be afraid, We’re alone; it’s just you and me.

Queen Margaret of Anjou · Act 1, Scene 2

Eleanor has just learned that her husband is too humble to seize the crown, and now she declares that she will play her part in Fortune's pageant even though she is a woman. The lines matter because Eleanor names her own constraints and refuses them—she will not be held back by her sex, and she calls for her co-conspirator Sir John Hume to begin their plot. It reveals that Eleanor's corruption of Humphrey comes from her own hunger, not from his weakness, and that she sees ambition as a game anyone can win.

My Lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise, Is this the fashion in the court of England? Is this the government of Britain’s isle, And this the royalty of Albion’s king? What shall King Henry be a pupil still Under the surly Gloucester’s governance? Am I a queen in title and in style, And must be made a subject to a duke? I tell thee, Pole, when in the city Tours Thou ran’st a tilt in honour of my love And stolest away the ladies’ hearts of France, I thought King Henry had resembled thee In courage, courtship and proportion: But all his mind is bent to holiness, To number Ave-Maries on his beads; His champions are the prophets and apostles, His weapons holy saws of sacred writ, His study is his tilt-yard, and his loves Are brazen images of canonized saints. I would the college of the cardinals Would choose him pope, and carry him to Rome, And set the triple crown upon his head: That were a state fit for his holiness.

My Lord Suffolk, tell me, is this how things are done, Is this the style in the court of England? Is this the government of Britain’s island, And is this the royal power of Albion’s king? Should King Henry still be a student Under the harsh rule of Gloucester? Am I a queen in title and name, And yet must be made a subject to a duke? I tell you, Pole, when you rode in the city of Tours In honor of my love, And stole away the hearts of the ladies of France, I thought King Henry resembled you In courage, charm, and stature: But now all his thoughts are on piety, To count Ave Marias on his prayer beads; His champions are the prophets and apostles, His weapons are holy quotes from sacred texts, His study is his jousting field, and his loves Are statues of canonized saints. I wish the college of cardinals Would choose him as pope, take him to Rome, And place the triple crown on his head: That would be a fitting position for his holiness.

Queen Margaret of Anjou · Act 1, Scene 3

Queen Margaret has just arrived in England as Henry's bride and is shocked to see him subordinate to Gloucester, a pious man who studies scripture instead of ruling. Her accusation matters because it names the crisis at the heart of the play—Henry is not a king in the sense the kingdom needs, and Margaret sees it at once. She will spend the rest of the play trying to make him a king, or at least to replace him with someone who can be.

Mischance and sorrow go along with you! Heart’s discontent and sour affliction Be playfellows to keep you company! There’s two of you; the devil make a third! And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps!

Bad luck and sorrow go with you! Heartache and bitterness be your companions! There’s two of you; may the devil join you! And may threefold revenge follow you wherever you go!

Queen Margaret of Anjou · Act 3, Scene 2

Margaret curses Suffolk as he is being dragged away to exile and death, invoking the devil himself to punish him and his companion. The curse matters because it is uttered by the one person Suffolk loves, turning her love into a weapon against him—and the curse comes true, as all the curses in this play do. It shows that words have power in this kingdom, and that love and hate are sometimes the same thing.

Away, my lord! you are slow; for shame, away!

Come on, my lord! you’re too slow; for shame, hurry up!

Queen Margaret of Anjou · Act 5, Scene 2

Margaret is urging Henry to flee the battlefield at Saint Alban's as York's forces close in, shaming him for his slowness. The line matters because it captures Margaret's transformation from bride to general, from one who will love and mourn to one who must act. It shows that the play's women survive by abandoning sentiment and embracing necessity.

Queen Margaret of Anjou in Henry VI, Part 2

Key quotes

Relationships

Queen Margaret of Anjou & King Henry VI

Queen Margaret of Anjou & William de la Pole, Duke of Suffolk

Queen Margaret of Anjou & Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester

Queen Margaret of Anjou & Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester

Queen Margaret of Anjou & Cardinal Beaufort

Hear Queen Margaret of Anjou, narrated.