LEWIS

Fair Queen of England, worthy Margaret, Fit down with us: it ill befits thy State, And Birth, that thou shouldst stand, while Lewis does fit. Why say, fair Queen, whence springs this deep despair? What ere it be, be thou still Like thy self, And fit thee by our side. Yield not thy neck to Fortune's yoke, But let thy dauntless mind still ride in triumph, Over all mischance. Be plain, Queen Margaret, and tell thy grief, It shall be eased, if France can yield relief. Renowned Queen, With patience calm the Storm, While we bethink a means to break it off. The more I stay, the more I'll succour thee. What's he approaches boldly to our pre sense? Welcome brave Warwick, what brings thee to France? Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford, Vouchsafe at our request, to stand aside, While I use further conference with Warwick. But is he gracious in the Peoples eye? Then further: all dissembling set aside, Tell me for truth, the measure of his Love Unto our Sister Bona. Now Sister, let us hear your firm resolve. Then Warwick, thus: Our Sister shall be Edwards. And now forthwith shall Articles be drawn, Touching the Jointure that your King must make, Which with her Dowry shall be counter-poys'd: Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witness, That Bona shall be Wife to the English King. And still is friend to him, and Margaret. But if your Title to the Crown be weak, As may appear by Edwards good success: Then it's but reason, that I be released From giving aid, which late I promised. Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand, That your Estate requires, and mine can yield. Now Warwick, tell me even upon thy conscience Is Edward your true King? for I were loath To link with him, that were not lawful chosen. Warwick, what are thy News? And yours, fair Queen. What? has your King married the Lady Gray? And now to sooth 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? And mine, with hers, and thine, and Margarets. Therefore, at last, I firmly am resolved You shall have aid. Then England's Messenger, return in Post, And tell false Edward, thy supposed King, That Lewis of France, is sending over Maskers To revel it with him, and his new Bride. Thou seest what's passed, go fear thy King withal. But Warwick, Thou and Oxford, with five thousand men Shall cross the Seas, and bid false Edward battle: And as occasion serves, this Noble Queen And Prince, shall follow with a fresh Supply. Yet ere thou go, but answer me one doubt: What Pledge have we of thy firm Loyalty? Why stay we now? These soldiers shall be levied, And thou Lord Bourbon, our High Admiral Shall waft them over with our Royal Fleet. I long till Edward fallen by Wars mischance, For mocking Marriage with a Dame of France. Warwick, this is some post to us, or thee.