Queen. Ay, now begins a fécond Storm to rife,
For this is he that moves both Wind and Tide.
War. From worthy Edward, King of Albion,
My Lord and Sovereign, and thy vowed Friend,
I come (in Kindness and unfeigned Love)
Firft to do greetings to thy Royal Person,
And then to crave a League of Amity;
And lastly, to confirm that Amity
With Nuptial Knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant
That vertuous Lady Bona, thy fair Sifter,
To England's King in lawful Marriage.
Queen. If that go forward, Henry's hope is done.
War. And gracious Madam,
I am commanded, with your leave and favour,
Humbly to kifs your Hand, and with my Tongue
To tell the paffion of my Sovereign's Heart;
Where Fame, late entring at his heedful Ears,
Hath plac'd thy Beauty's Image, and thy Virtue.
Queen. King Lewis, and Lady Bona, hear me fpeak,
Before you anfwer Warwick. His demand
Springs not from Edward's well-meant honeft Love,
But from Deceit, bred by Neceffity:
For how can Tyrants fafely govern home,
Unless Abroad they purchace great Alliance?
To prove him Tyrant, this reafon may
fuffice,
That Henry liveth ftill; but were he dead,
Yet here Prince Edward ftands, King Henry's Son.
Look therefore Lewis, that by this League and Marriage
Thou draw not on thy Danger and Dishonour:
For though Ufurpers (way the Rule a while,
Yet Heavens are juft, and Time fuppreffeth Wrongs.
War. Injurious Margaret.
Prince. And why not Queen.
War. Becaufe thy Father Henry did ufurp,
And thou no more art Prince than fhe is Queen.
Oxf. Then Warwick difannuls great John of Gaunt,
Which did fubdue the greateft part of Spain;
And after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth,
Wofe Wisdom was a Mirror to the wifeft;
And after that wife Prince, Henry the Fifth,
Who by his Prowels conquered all France:
From these our Henry lineally defcends.
War. Oxford, how haps it in this smooth Difcourfe,
You told not, how Henry the Sixth hath loft
All that, which Henry the Fifth had gotten;
Methinks thefe Peers of France fhould fmile at that.
But for the reft; you tell a Pedigree
Of threescore and two Years, a filly time
To make prescription for a Kingdom's worth.
Oxf. Why Warwick, canft thou speak against my Liege
Whom thou obey'dft thirty and fix Years,
And not bewray thy Treason with a blush?
War. Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right,
Now buckler falfhood with a Pedigree?
For fhame leave Henry, and call Edward King.
Oxf. Call him my King, by whofe injurious doom
My elder Brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere
Was done to Death? and more than fo, my Father,
Even in the downfal of his mellow'd Years,
When Nature brought him to the door of Death?
No Warwick, no; while Life upholds this Arm,
This Arm upholds the Houfe of Lancaster.
War. And I the House of York.
K. Lew. Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford Vouchsafe at our request, to ftand aside,
While I ufe farther Conference with Warwick.
[They stand aloof. Queen. Heavens grant that Warwick's Words bewitch him
K. Lew. Now Warwick, tell me even upon thy Confcience, Is Edward your true King? for I were loth
To link with him that were not lawful chofen.
War. Thereon I pawn my Credit, and mire Honour.
K. Lew. But is he gracious in the People's Eyes?
War. The more, that Henry was unfortunate.
K. Lew. Then further; all diffembling fet afide,
Tell me for truth, the measure of his love
Unto our Sifter Bona.
As may befeem a Monarch like himself:
My felf have often heard him fay and fwear,
That this his Love was an external Plant,
Whereof the Root was fix'd in Virtue's ground,
The Leaves and Fruit maintain'd with Beauty's Sun,
Exempt from Envy, but not from Dildai,
Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain.
K. Lew. Now Sifter, let us hear your firm refolve.
Bona. Your grant, or your denial, fhall be mine.
Yet I confefs, that often e'er this Day, Speaks to Warwick,
When I have heard your King's defert recounted,
Mine Ear hath tempted Judgment to defire.
K. Lew. Then Warwick, this:
Our Sifter fhall be Edward's.
And now forthwith fhall Articles be drawn,
Touching the Jointure that your King must make,
Which with her Dowry fhall be counterpois'd,
Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witnefs,
That Bona fhall be Wife to th' English King.
Prince. To Edward, but not to the English King.
Queen. Deceitful Warwick, it was thy device,
By this Alliance to make void my Suit;
Before thy coming, Lewis was Henry's Friend.
K. Lew. And ftill is Friend to him and Margaret;
But if your Title to the Crown be weak,
As may appear by Edward's good Succefs;
Then 'tis but reafon that I be releas'd
From giving Aid, which late I promised.
Yet fhall you have all kindness at my Hand,
That your Eftate requires, and mine can yield.
War. Henry now lives in Scotland at his ease,
Where having nothing, nothing can he lofe.
And as for you your felf, our quondam Queen,
You have a Father able to maintain you,
And better it were you troubled him, than France.
Queen. Peace impudent and thameless Warwick, peace,
Proud fetter up, and puller down of Kings,
I will not hence, 'till with my Talk and Tears
(Both full of Truth) I make King Lewis behold
Thy fly Conveyance, and thy Lord's falfe Love.
[Poft blowing a Horn within.
For both of you are Birds of felf fame Feather
K. Lew. Warwick, this is fome Poft to us, or the.
Enter a Poft.
Poft. My Lord Ambaffador,
Thefe Letters are for you;
Sent from your Brother, Marquefs Montague.
Thefe from our King unto your Majesty.
And Madam, these for you,
From whom I know not.
[They all read their Letters. Oxf. I like it well, that our fair Queen and Mistress Smiles at her News, while Warwick frowns at his.
Prince. Nay, mark how Lewis ftamps as he were nettled.
I hope all's for the beft.
K. Lew. Warwick, what are thy News?
And yours, fair Queen?
Queen. Mine fuch as fills my Heart with unhop'd Joys. War. Mine full of Sorrow, and Heart's Difcontent.
K. Lew. What! has your King Married the Lady Gray? And now, to footh your Forgery and his,
Sends me a Paper to perfwade me Patience?
Is this Alliance that he feeks with France?
Dare he prefume to fcorn us in this manner?
Queen, I told your Majefty as much before:
This proveth Edward's Love, and Warwick's Honefty.
War. King Lewis, I here proteft in fight of Heaven,
And by the hope I have of Heav'nly Blifs,
That I am clear from this Mifdeed of Edward's;
No more my King; for he difhonours me,
But moft himself, if he could fee his Shame.
Did I forget, that by the House of York
My Father came untimely to his Death?
Did I let pafs th' abufe done to my Niece?
Did I impale him with the Regal Crown?
Did I put Henry from his Native Right?
And am I guerdon'd at the last with Shame ?
Shame on himself, for my Defert is Honour.
And to repair my Honour loft for him,
I here renounce him, and return to Henry.
My Noble Queen, let former grudges pafs,
And henceforth I am thy true Servitor:
I will revenge his wrong to Lady Bona,
And replant Henry in his former ftate.
VOL. IV.
Thefe Words have turn'd my Hate to Love,
And I forgive, and quite forget old Faults,
And joy that thou becom'ft King Henry's Friend.
War. So much his Friend, ay, his unfeigned Friend,
That if King Lewis vouchfafe to furnish us
With fome few Bands of chofen Soldiers,
I'll undertake to Land them on our Coast,
And force the Tyrant from his Seat by War.
'Tis not his new-made Bride fhall fuccour him:
And as for Clarence, as my Letters tell me,
He's very likely now to fall from him,
For matching more for wanton Luft than Honour,
Or than for ftrength and fafety of our Country.
Bona. Dear Brother, how fhall Bona be reveng'd,
But by thy help to this diftreffed Queen?
Queen. Renowned Prince, how fhall poor Henry live, Unless thou refcue him from foul despair?
Bona. My quarrel, and this English Queen's are one. War. And mine, fair Lady Bona, joins with yours. L. Lew. And mine, with hers, and thine, and Margaret's. Therefore at laft, I firmly am refolv'd
Queen. Let me give humble thanks for all at once. K. Lew. Then England's Meffenger, return in Poft, And tell falfe Edward, thy fuppofed King,
That Lewis of France, is fending over Maskers
To revel it with him, and his new Bride..
Thou feeft what's paft, go fear thy King withal.
Bona. Tell him, in hopes he'll prove a Widower shortly, I wear the Willow Garland for his fake.
Queen. Tell him, my mourning weeds are laid afide, And I am ready to put Armor on.
War. Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong,
And therefore I'll Uncrown him e'er't be long.
There's thy Reward, be gone.
K. Lew. But Warwick,
Thou and Oxford, with five thousand Men
Shall cross the Seas, and bid falfe Edward Battel:
And as occafion ferves, this Noble Queen
And Prince fhall follow with a fresh Supply,
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