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Bal. Yea, but, Levune, thou seest
These barons lay their heads on blocks together;
What they intend, the hangman frustrates clean.

Levune. Have you no doubt, my lords, I'll clap so close
Among the lords of France with England's gold,
That Isabel shall make her nts in vain,
And France shall be obdurate with her tears.

Spen. Then make for France, amain - Levune, away!
Proclaim King Edward's wars and victories.





ENT. Fair blows the wind for France; blow gentle gale,
Till Edmund be arrived for England's good !

Nature, yield to my country's cause in this.
A brother? no, a butcher of thy friends!
Proud Edward, dost thou banish me thy presence?
But I'll to France, and cheer the wrongèd queen,
And certify what Edward's looseness is.
Unnatural king ! to slaughter noblemen
And cherish flatterers! Mortimer, I stay
Thy sweet escape : stand gracious, gloomy night,
To his device.

Enter Young MORTIMER, disguised.
Y. Mor. Holla! who walketh there?
Is't you, my lord ?

Kent. Mortimer, 'tis I;
But hath thy potion wrought so happily?

Y. Mor. It hath, my lord ; the warders all asleep,
I thank them, gave me leave to pass in peace.
But hath your grace got shipping unto France ?
Kent. Fear it not.



Q. Isab. Ah, boy ! our friends do fail us all in France :
The lords are cruel, and the king unkind;
What shall we do?

P. Edw. Madam, return to England,

And please my father well, and then a fig
For all my uncle's friendship here in France.
I warrant you, I'll win his highness quickly;
'A loves me better than a thousand Spencers.

Q. Isab. · Ah, boy, thou art deceived, at least in this,
To think that we can yet be tuned together;
No, no, we jar too far. Unkind Valois !
Unhappy Isabel ! when France rejects,
Whither, oh! whither dost thou bend thy steps ?

Sir. J. Madam, what cheer?

Q. Isab. Ah ! good Sir John of Hainault,
Never so cheerless, nor so far distrest.

Sir J. I hear, sweet lady, of the king's unkindness;
But droop not, madam; noble minds contemn
Despair : will your grace with me to Hainault,
And there stay time's advantage with your son?
How say you, my lord, will you go with your friends,
And shake off all our fortunes equally?

P. Edw. So pleaseth the queen, my mother, me it likes :
The King of England, nor the court of France,
Shall have me from my gracious mother's side,
Till I be strong enough to break a staff ;
And then have at the proudest Spencer's head.

Sir J. Well said, my lord.

Q. Isab. O, my sweet heart, how do I moan thy wrongs, Yet triumph in the hope of thee, my joy! Ah, sweet Sir John ! even to the utmost verge Of Europe, or the shore of Tanais, We will with thee to Hainault - so we will : The marquis is a noble gentleman; His grace, I dare presume, will welcome me. But who are these?

Enter Kent and Young MORTIMER.
Kent. Madam, long may you live,
Much happier than your friends in England do!

Q. Isab. Lord Edmund and Lord Mortimer alive!
Welcome to France ! the news was here, my lord,
That you were dead, or very near your death.

Y. Mor. Lady, the last was truest of the twain :
But Mortimer, reserved for better hap,
Hath shaken off the thraldom of the Tower,
And lives t' advance your standard, good my lord.

P. Edw. How mean you ? and the king, my father, lives !
No, my Lord Mortimer, not I, I trow.

Q. Isab. Not, son! why not? I would it were no worse.
But, gentle lords, friendless we are in France.

Y. Mor. Monsieur le Grand, a noble friend of yours,
Told us, at our arrival, all the news
How hard the nobles, how unkind the king
Hath showed himself; but, madam, right makes room
Where weapons want; and, though a many friends
Are made away, as Warwick, Lancaster,
And others of our party and faction;
Yet have we friends, assure your grace, in England
Would cast up caps, and clap their hands for joy,
To see us there, appointed for our foes.

Kent. Would all were well, and Edward well reclaimed,
For England's honour, peace, and quietness.

Y. Mor. But by the sword, my lord, 't must be deserved ;
The king will ne'er forsake his flatterers.

Sir. J. My lords of England, sith th' ungentle king
Of France refuseth to give aid of arms
To this distressèd queen his sister here,
Go you with her to Hainault; doubt ye not,
We will find comfort, money, men and friends
Ere long, to bid the English king a base.3
How say'st, young prince? what think you of the match?

P. Edw. I think King Edward will outrun us all.

Q. Isab. Nay, son, not so; and you must not discourage
Your friends, that are so forward in your aid.

Kent. Sir John of Hainault, pardon us, I pray;
These comforts that you give our woful queen
Bind us in kindness all at your command.

Q. Isab. Yea, gentle brother; and the God of heaven
Prosper your happy motion, good Sir John.

Y. Mor. This noble gentleman, forward in arms,
Was born, I see, to be our anchor-hold.
Sir John of Hainault, be it thy renown,
That England's queen, and nobles in distress,
Have been by thee restored and comforted.

Sir. J. Madam, along, and you my lords, with me, That England's peers may Hainault's welcome see. [Exeunt. 1 Ready equipped.

2 Earned. 3 Challenge an encounter. The phrase refers to the old game of prison bars or prisoner's base, where a player runs out of bounds and challenges an opponent to pursue him,

Enter KING EDWARD, ARUNDEL, the Elder and Younger SPENCER,

and others.
K. Edw. Thus after many threats of wrathful war,
Triumpheth England's Edward with his friends;
And triumph, Edward, with his friends uncontrolled !
My lord of Gloucester, do you hear the news?

Y. Spen. What news, my lord ?

K. Edw. Why, man, they say there is great execution
Done through the realm ; my lord of Arundel,
You have the note, have you not?

Arun. From the Lieutenant of the Tower, my lord.
K. Edw. I pray let us see it. [Takes the note.] What have

we there?
Read it, Spencer. [Hands the note to Young SPENCER, who

reads the names.
Why, so; they barked apace a month ago :
Now, on my life, they'll neither bark nor bite.
Now, sirs, the news from France? Gloucester, I trow
The lords of France love England's gold so well
As Isabella gets no aid from thence.
What now remains? have you proclaimed, my lord,
Reward for them can bring in Mortimer?

Y. Spen. My lord, we have ; and if he be in England,
'A will be had ere long, I doubt it not.

K. Edw. If, dost thou say? Spencer, as true as death,
He is in England's ground; our portmasters
Are not so careless of their king's command.

Enter a Messenger.
How now, what news with thee? from whence come these?

Mess. Letters, my lord, and tidings forth of France ;
To you, my lord of Gloucester, from Levune.

[Gives letters to Young SPENCER.
K. Edw. Read.
Y. Spen. [reads].

“My duty to your honour premised, &c., I have, according to instructions in that behalf, dealt with the King of France his lords, and effected, that the queen, all discontented and discomforted, is gone : whither, if you ask, with Sir John of Hainault, brother to the marquis, into Flanders. With them are gone Lord Edmund, and the Lord Mortimer, having in their company divers of your nation, and others; and, as constant report goeth, they intend to give King Edward battle in Eng

land, sooner than he can look for them. This is all the news of
Your honour's in all service,

K. Edw. Ah, villains ! hath that Mortimer escaped ?
With him is Edmund gone associate?
And will Sir John of Hainault lead the round?
Welcome, a God's name, madam, and your son;
England shall welcome you and all your rout.
Gallop apace, bright Phoebus, through the sky,
And dusky night, in rusty iron car,
Between you both shorten the time, I pray,
That I may see that most desirèd day,
When we may meet these traitors in the field.
Ah, nothing grieves me, but my little boy
Is thus misled to countenance their ills.
Come, friends, to Bristow,' there to make us strong;
And, winds, as equal be to bring them in,
As you injurious were to bear them forth !




Q. Isab. Now, lords, our loving friends and countrymen,
Welcome to England all, with prosperous winds !
Our kindest friends in Belgia have we left,
To cope with friends at home; a heavy case
When force to force is knit, and sword and glaive
In civil broils make kin and countrymen
Slaughter themselves in others, and their sides
With their own weapons gore! But what's the help?
Misgoverned kings are cause of all this wreck;
And, Edward, thou art one among them all,
Whose looseness hath betrayed thy land to spoil,
Who made the channel overflow with blood
Of thine own people ; patron shouldst thou be,
But thou

Y. Mor. Nay, madam, if you be a warrior,
You must not grow so passionate in speeches.
Sith that we are by sufferance of Heaven
Arrived, and armed in this prince's right,
Here for our country's cause swear we to him
All homage, fealty, and forwardness;

1 Bristol.

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