Post.
My lord ambassador, these letters are for you; [To Warwick.
Sent from your brother, Marquis Montague.
These from our King unto your Majesty. [To K. Lew.
And madam, these for you, [To the Queen.
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 stamps as he were nettled.
I hope all's for the best.

K. Lew.
Warwick, what are thy news? and yours, fair Queen?

Queen.
Mine such as fills my heart with unhop'd joys.

War.
Mine full of sorrow and heart's discontent.

K. Lew.
What! has your King marry'd the lady Gray?
And now, to sooth your forgery and his,
Sends me a paper to perswade me patience?
Is this th' alliance that he seeks with France?
Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner?

Queen.
I told your Majesty as much before;
This proveth Edward's love and Warwick's honesty.

War.
King Lewis, I here protest in sight of heav'n,

And by the hope I have of heav'nly 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 th' 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.
Warwick, these words have turn'd my hate to love,
And I forgive and quite forget old faults,
And joy that thou becom'st King Henry's friend.

War.
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 succour 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 reveng'd,
But by thy help to this distressed Queen?

Queen.
Renowned Prince, how shall poor Henry live,

Unless thou rescue him from foul despair?

Bona.
My quarrel and this English Queen's are one.

War.
And mine fair lady Bona, joins with yours.

K. Lew.
And mine, with hers, and thine, and Margaret's.
Therefore at last I firmly am resolv'd
You shall have aid.

Queen.
Let me give humble thanks for all at once.

K. Lew.
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 past, go fear thy King withal.

Bona.
Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly,
I wear the willow garland for his sake.

Queen.
Tell him, my mourning weeds are laid aside,
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 ere't be long.
There's thy reward, be gone. [Exit Post.

K. Lew.
But Warwick,
Thou and Oxford with five thousand men
Shall cross the seas, and bid false Edward battel:
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?

War.
This shall assure my constant loyalty,
That if our Queen and this young Prince agree,
I'll join my eldest daughter and my joy
To him forthwith, in holy wedlock bands.

Queen.
Yes I agree, and thank you for your motion.
Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous,
Therefore delay not, give thy hand to Warwick,

And with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable,
That only Warwick's daughter shall be thine.

Prince.
Yes, I accept her, for she well deserves it:
And here to pledge my vow, I give my hand. [He gives his hand to Warwick.

K. Lew.
Why stay we now? these soldiers shall be levy'd,
And thou lord Bourbon, our high admiral,
Shall waft them over with our royal fleet.
I long 'till Edward fall by war's mischance,
For mocking marriage with a dame of France. [Exeunt. Manet Warwick.

War.
I came from Edward as ambassador,
But I return his sworn and mortal foe:
Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me,
But dreadful war shall answer his demand.
Had he none else to make a stale but me?
Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow.
I was the chief that rais'd him to the crown,
And I'll be chief to bring him down again:
Not that I pity Henry's misery,
But seek revenge on Edward's mockery. [Exit.

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