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Kyudan
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WARWICK:
Henry now lives in Scotland at his ease,
Where having nothing, nothing can he lose.
And as for you yourself, our quondam queen,
You have a father able to maintain you;
And better 'twere you troubled him than France.
QUEEN MARGARET:
Peace, impudent and shameless Warwick, peace,
Proud setter 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 sly conveyance and thy lord's false love;
For both of you are birds of selfsame feather.
KING LEWIS XI:
Warwick, this is some post to us or thee.
Post:
OXFORD:
I like it well that our fair queen and mistress
Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his.
PRINCE EDWARD:
Nay, mark how Lewis stamps, as he were nettled:
I hope all's for the best.
KING LEWIS XI:
Warwick, what are thy news? and yours, fair queen?
QUEEN MARGARET:
Mine, such as fill my heart with unhoped joys.
WARWICK:
Mine, full of sorrow and heart's discontent.
KING LEWIS XI:
What! has your king married the Lady Grey!
And now, to soothe your forgery and his,
Sends me a paper to persuade me patience?
Is this the alliance that he seeks with France?
Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner?
QUEEN MARGARET:
I told your majesty as much before:
This proveth Edward's love and Warwick's honesty.
WARWICK:
King Lewis, I here protest, in sight of heaven,
And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss,
That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward's,
No more my king, for he dishonours me,
But most himself, if he could see his shame.
Did I forget that by the house of York
My father came untimely to his death?
Did I let pass the abuse 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 desert is honour:
And to repair my honour lost for him,
I here renounce him and return to Henry.
My noble queen, let former grudges pass,
And henceforth I am thy true servitor:
I will revenge his wrong to Lady Bona,
And replant Henry in his former state.
QUEEN MARGARET:
Warwick, these words have turn'd my hate to love;
And I forgive and quite forget old faults,
And joy that thou becomest King Henry's friend.
WARWICK:
So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned friend,
That, if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us
With some few bands of chosen 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 shall succor him:
And as for Clarence, as my letters tell me,
He's very likely now to fall from him,
For matching more for wanton lust than honour,
Or than for strength and safety of our country.
BONA:
Dear brother, how shall Bona be revenged
But by thy help to this distressed queen?
QUEEN MARGARET:
Renowned prince, how shall poor Henry live,
Unless thou rescue him from foul despair?
BONA:
My quarrel and this English queen's are one.
WARWICK:
And mine, fair lady Bona, joins with yours.