The Raigne of King
After the French embassador my liege,
And tell him that you dare not ride to Yorke,
Excuse it that your bonnie horse is lame.
And tell him that you dare not ride to Yorke,
Excuse it that your bonnie horse is lame.
K. He heard that to, intollerable griefe:
Exunt Scots.Woman farewell although I do not stay.
Exunt Scots.Woman farewell although I do not stay.
Count: Tis not for feare, and yet you run away,
O happie comfort welcome to our house,
The confident and boystrous boasting Scot,
That swore before my walls they would not backe,
For all the armed power of this land,
With facelesse feare that euer turnes his backe:
Turnd hence againe the blasting North-east winde:
Vpon the bare report and name of Armes.
O happie comfort welcome to our house,
The confident and boystrous boasting Scot,
That swore before my walls they would not backe,
For all the armed power of this land,
With facelesse feare that euer turnes his backe:
Turnd hence againe the blasting North-east winde:
Vpon the bare report and name of Armes.
Enter Mountague.
Mo: O Sommers day, see where my Cosin comes:
How fares my Aunt? we are not Scots,
Why do you shut your gates against your friends?
How fares my Aunt? we are not Scots,
Why do you shut your gates against your friends?
Co: Well may I giue a welcome Cosin to thee:
For thou comst well to chase my foes from hence.
For thou comst well to chase my foes from hence.
Mo: The king himselfe is come in person hither:
Deare Aunt discend and gratulate his highnes.
Deare Aunt discend and gratulate his highnes.
Co: How may I entertayne his Maiestie,
To shew my duety, and his dignitie.
To shew my duety, and his dignitie.
Enter king Edward, Warwike, Artoyes, with others.
K. Ed: What are the stealing Foxes fled and gone
Before we could vncupple at their heeles.
Before we could vncupple at their heeles.
War: They are my liege, but with a cheereful cry,
Hot hunds and hardie chase them at the heeles.
Hot hunds and hardie chase them at the heeles.
Enter Countesse.
K. Ed: This is the Countesse Warwike, is it not.
War: Euen shee liege, whose beauty tyrants feare,
As a May blossome with pernitious winds,
Hath sullied, withered ouercast and donne.
As a May blossome with pernitious winds,
Hath sullied, withered ouercast and donne.
K. Ed: Hath she been fairer Warwike then she is?
War: My gratious King, faire is she not at all,
If that her selfe were by to staine herselfe,
If that her selfe were by to staine herselfe,
As
