Ah sweete Sir John, even to the utmost verge
of Europe, or the shore of Tanaise,
Will we with thee to Henolt, so we will,
The Marquesse is a noble Gentleman,
His Grace I dare presume will welcome me,
But who are these?
Enter Edmond and Mortimer.
Edm.
Madam, long may you live,
Much happier then your friends in England do.
Qu.
Lord Edmond and Lord Mortimer alive,
Welcome to France: the newes was here my Lord,
That you were dead, or very neere your death.
Mor.ju.
Lady, the last was truest of the twaine,
But Mortimer reserv'd for better hap,
Hath shaken off the thraldome of the Tower,
And lives to advance your Standard good my Lord.
Prin.
How meane you, and the King my Father lives?
No my Lord Mortimer, not I, I trow.
Qu.
Not sonne, why not? I would it were no worse,
But gentle Lords, friendlesse we are in France.
Mor.ju.
Mounsier le Grand, a Noble friend of yours,
Told us at our arrivall all the newes,
How hard the Nobles, how unkind the King
Hath shewed himselfe, but Madam, right makes roome,
Where weapons want, and though a many friends,
Are made away, as Warwicke, Lancaster,
And others of our party and faction,
Yet have we friends, assure your Grace in England
Would cast up cappes, and clap their hands for joy,
To see us there appointed for our foes.
Edm.
Would all were well, and Edward well reclaim'd,
For Englands honour, peace, and quietnesse.
Mor.
But by the sword, my Lord, it must be deserv'd,
The King will nere forsake his flatterers.
S. John.
My Lords of England, sith the ungentle King
Of France refuseth to give aid of armes,
To this distressed Queene his Sister heere,
Goe you with her to Henolt, doubt ye not,
We
