Chapter 110

Hen. From Scotland am I stolne euen of pure loue, To greet mine owne Land with my wishfull sight: No Harry, Harry, 'tis no Land of thine, Thy place is fill'd, thy Scepter wrung from thee, Thy Balme washt off, wherewith thou was Annointed: No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now, No humble suters prease to speake for right: No, not a man comes for redresse of thee: For how can I helpe them, and not my selfe? Sink. I, heere's a Deere, whose skin's a Keepers Fee: This is the quondam King; Let's seize vpon him

Hen. Let me embrace the sower Aduersaries, For Wise men say, it is the wisest course

Hum. Why linger we? Let vs lay hands vpon him

Sink. Forbeare a-while, wee'l heare a little more

Hen. My Queene and Son are gone to France for aid: And (as I heare) the great Commanding Warwicke I: thither gone, to craue the French Kings Sister To wife for Edward. If this newes be true, Poore Queene, and Sonne, your labour is but lost: For Warwicke is a subtle Orator: And Lewis a Prince soone wonne with mouing words: By this account then, Margaret may winne him, For she's a woman to be pittied much: Her sighes will make a batt'ry in his brest, Her teares will pierce into a Marble heart: The Tyger will be milde, whiles she doth mourne; And Nero will be tainted with remorse, To heare and see her plaints, her Brinish Teares. I, but shee's come to begge, Warwicke to giue: Shee on his left side, crauing ayde for Henrie; He on his right, asking a wife for Edward. Shee Weepes, and sayes, her Henry is depos'd: He Smiles, and sayes, his Edward is instaul'd; That she (poore Wretch) for greefe can speake no more: Whiles Warwicke tels his Title, smooths the Wrong, Inferreth arguments of mighty strength, And in conclusion winnes the King from her, With promise of his Sister, and what else, To strengthen and support King Edwards place. O Margaret, thus 'twill be, and thou (poore soule) Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorne

Hum. Say, what art thou talk'st of Kings & Queens? King. More then I seeme, and lesse then I was born to: A man at least, for lesse I should not be: And men may talke of Kings, and why not I? Hum. I, but thou talk'st, as if thou wer't a King

King. Why so I am (in Minde) and that's enough

Hum. But if thou be a King, where is thy Crowne? King. My Crowne is in my heart, not on my head: Not deck'd with Diamonds, and Indian stones: Nor to be seene: my Crowne, is call'd Content, A Crowne it is, that sildome Kings enioy

Hum. Well, if you be a King crown'd with Content, Your Crowne Content, and you, must be contented To go along with vs. For (as we thinke) You are the king King Edward hath depos'd: And we his subiects, sworne in all Allegeance, Will apprehend you, as his Enemie

King. But did you neuer sweare, and breake an Oath

Hum. No, neuer such an Oath, nor will not now

King. Where did you dwell when I was K[ing]. of England? Hum. Heere in this Country, where we now remaine

King. I was annointed King at nine monthes old, My Father, and my Grandfather were Kings: And you were sworne true Subiects vnto me: And tell me then, haue you not broke your Oathes? Sin. No, for we were Subiects, but while you wer king King. Why? Am I dead? Do I not breath a Man? Ah simple men, you know not what you sweare: Looke, as I blow this Feather from my Face, And as the Ayre blowes it to me againe, Obeying with my winde when I do blow, And yeelding to another, when it blowes, Commanded alwayes by the greater gust: Such is the lightnesse of you, common men. But do not breake your Oathes, for of that sinne, My milde intreatie shall not make you guiltie. Go where you will, the king shall be commanded, And be you kings, command, and Ile obey

Sinklo. We are true Subiects to the king, King Edward

King. So would you be againe to Henrie, If he were seated as king Edward is

Sinklo. We charge you in Gods name & the Kings, To go with vs vnto the Officers

King. In Gods name lead, your Kings name be obeyd, And what God will, that let your King performe. And what he will, I humbly yeeld vnto.

Exeunt.

Enter K[ing]. Edward, Gloster, Clarence, Lady Gray.

King. Brother of Gloster, at S[aint]. Albons field This Ladyes Husband, Sir Richard Grey, was slaine, His Land then seiz'd on by the Conqueror, Her suit is now, to repossesse those Lands, Which wee in Iustice cannot well deny, Because in Quarrell of the House of Yorke, The worthy Gentleman did lose his Life

Rich. Your Highnesse shall doe well to graunt her suit: It were dishonor to deny it her

King. It were no lesse, but yet Ile make a pawse

Rich. Yea, is it so: I see the Lady hath a thing to graunt, Before the King will graunt her humble suit

Clarence. Hee knowes the Game, how true hee keepes the winde? Rich. Silence

King. Widow, we will consider of your suit, And come some other time to know our minde

Wid. Right gracious Lord, I cannot brooke delay: May it please your Highnesse to resolue me now, And what your pleasure is, shall satisfie me

Rich. I Widow? then Ile warrant you all your Lands, And if what pleases him, shall pleasure you: Fight closer, or good faith you'le catch a Blow

Clarence. I feare her not, vnlesse she chance to fall

Rich. God forbid that, for hee'le take vantages

King. How many Children hast thou, Widow? tell me

Clarence. I thinke he meanes to begge a Child of her

Rich. Nay then whip me: hee'le rather giue her two

Wid. Three, my most gracious Lord

Rich. You shall haue foure, if you'le be rul'd by him

King. 'Twere pittie they should lose their Fathers Lands

Wid. Be pittifull, dread Lord, and graunt it then

King. Lords giue vs leaue, Ile trye this Widowes wit

Rich. I, good leaue haue you, for you will haue leaue, Till Youth take leaue, and leaue you to the Crutch

King. Now tell me, Madame, doe you loue your Children? Wid. I, full as dearely as I loue my selfe

King. And would you not doe much to doe them good? Wid. To doe them good, I would sustayne some harme

King. Then get your Husbands Lands, to doe them good

Wid. Therefore I came vnto your Maiestie

King. Ile tell you how these Lands are to be got

Wid. So shall you bind me to your Highnesse seruice

King. What seruice wilt thou doe me, if I giue them? Wid. What you command, that rests in me to doe

King. But you will take exceptions to my Boone

Wid. No, gracious Lord, except I cannot doe it

King. I, but thou canst doe what I meane to aske

Wid. Why then I will doe what your Grace commands

Rich. Hee plyes her hard, and much Raine weares the Marble

Clar. As red as fire? nay then, her Wax must melt

Wid. Why stoppes my Lord? shall I not heare my Taske? King. An easie Taske, 'tis but to loue a King

Wid. That's soone perform'd, because I am a Subiect

King. Why then, thy Husbands Lands I freely giue thee

Wid. I take my leaue with many thousand thankes

Rich. The Match is made, shee seales it with a Cursie

King. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of loue I meane

Wid. The fruits of Loue, I meane, my louing Liege

King. I, but I feare me in another sence. What Loue, think'st thou, I sue so much to get? Wid. My loue till death, my humble thanks, my prayers, That loue which Vertue begges, and Vertue graunts

King. No, by my troth, I did not meane such loue

Wid. Why then you meane not, as I thought you did

King. But now you partly may perceiue my minde

Wid. My minde will neuer graunt what I perceiue Your Highnesse aymes at, if I ayme aright

King. To tell thee plaine, I ayme to lye with thee

Wid. To tell you plaine, I had rather lye in Prison

King. Why then thou shalt not haue thy Husbands Lands

Wid. Why then mine Honestie shall be my Dower, For by that losse, I will not purchase them

King. Therein thou wrong'st thy Children mightily

Wid. Herein your Highnesse wrongs both them & me: But mightie Lord, this merry inclination Accords not with the sadnesse of my suit: Please you dismisse me, eyther with I, or no

King. I, if thou wilt say I to my request: No, if thou do'st say No to my demand

Wid. Then No, my Lord: my suit is at an end

Rich. The Widow likes him not, shee knits her Browes

Clarence. Hee is the bluntest Wooer in Christendome

King. Her Looks doth argue her replete with Modesty, Her Words doth shew her Wit incomparable, All her perfections challenge Soueraigntie, One way, or other, shee is for a King, And shee shall be my Loue, or else my Queene. Say, that King Edward take thee for his Queene? Wid. 'Tis better said then done, my gracious Lord: I am a subiect fit to ieast withall, But farre vnfit to be a Soueraigne

King. Sweet Widow, by my State I sweare to thee, I speake no more then what my Soule intends, And that is, to enioy thee for my Loue

Wid. And that is more then I will yeeld vnto: I know, I am too meane to be your Queene, And yet too good to be your Concubine

King. You cauill, Widow, I did meane my Queene

Wid. 'Twill grieue your Grace, my Sonnes should call you Father

King. No more, then when my Daughters Call thee Mother. Thou art a Widow, and thou hast some Children, And by Gods Mother, I being but a Batchelor, Haue other-some. Why, 'tis a happy thing, To be the Father vnto many Sonnes: Answer no more, for thou shalt be my Queene

Rich. The Ghostly Father now hath done his Shrift

Clarence. When hee was made a Shriuer, 'twas for shift

King. Brothers, you muse what Chat wee two haue had

Rich. The Widow likes it not, for shee lookes very sad

King. You'ld thinke it strange, if I should marrie her

Clarence. To who, my Lord? King. Why Clarence, to my selfe

Rich. That would be tenne dayes wonder at the least

Clarence. That's a day longer then a Wonder lasts

Rich. By so much is the Wonder in extremes

King. Well, ieast on Brothers: I can tell you both, Her suit is graunted for her Husbands Lands. Enter a Noble man

Nob. My gracious Lord, Henry your Foe is taken, And brought your Prisoner to your Pallace Gate

King. See that he be conuey'd vnto the Tower: And goe wee Brothers to the man that tooke him, To question of his apprehension. Widow goe you along: Lords vse her honourable.

Exeunt.

Manet Richard.

Rich. I, Edward will vse Women honourably: Would he were wasted, Marrow, Bones, and all, That from his Loynes no hopefull Branch may spring, To crosse me from the Golden time I looke for: And yet, betweene my Soules desire, and me, The lustfull Edwards Title buryed, Is Clarence, Henry, and his Sonne young Edward, And all the vnlook'd-for Issue of their Bodies, To take their Roomes, ere I can place my selfe: A cold premeditation for my purpose. Why then I doe but dreame on Soueraigntie, Like one that stands vpon a Promontorie, And spyes a farre-off shore, where hee would tread, Wishing his foot were equall with his eye, And chides the Sea, that sunders him from thence, Saying, hee'le lade it dry, to haue his way: So doe I wish the Crowne, being so farre off, And so I chide the meanes that keepes me from it, And so (I say) Ile cut the Causes off, Flattering me with impossibilities: My Eyes too quicke, my Heart o're-weenes too much, Vnlesse my Hand and Strength could equall them. Well, say there is no Kingdome then for Richard: What other Pleasure can the World affoord? Ile make my Heauen in a Ladies Lappe, And decke my Body in gay Ornaments, And 'witch sweet Ladies with my Words and Lookes. Oh miserable Thought! and more vnlikely, Then to accomplish twentie Golden Crownes. Why Loue forswore me in my Mothers Wombe: And for I should not deale in her soft Lawes, Shee did corrupt frayle Nature with some Bribe, To shrinke mine Arme vp like a wither'd Shrub, To make an enuious Mountaine on my Back, Where sits Deformitie to mocke my Body; To shape my Legges of an vnequall size, To dis-proportion me in euery part: Like to a Chaos, or an vn-lick'd Beare-whelpe, That carryes no impression like the Damme. And am I then a man to be belou'd? Oh monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought. Then since this Earth affoords no Ioy to me, But to command, to check, to o're-beare such, As are of better Person then my selfe: Ile make my Heauen, to dreame vpon the Crowne, And whiles I liue, t' account this World but Hell, Vntill my mis-shap'd Trunke, that beares this Head, Be round impaled with a glorious Crowne. And yet I know not how to get the Crowne, For many Liues stand betweene me and home: And I, like one lost in a Thornie Wood, That rents the Thornes, and is rent with the Thornes, Seeking a way, and straying from the way, Not knowing how to finde the open Ayre, But toyling desperately to finde it out, Torment my selfe, to catch the English Crowne: And from that torment I will free my selfe, Or hew my way out with a bloody Axe. Why I can smile, and murther whiles I smile, And cry, Content, to that which grieues my Heart, And wet my Cheekes with artificiall Teares, And frame my Face to all occasions. Ile drowne more Saylers then the Mermaid shall, Ile slay more gazers then the Basiliske, Ile play the Orator as well as Nestor, Deceiue more slyly then Vlisses could, And like a Synon, take another Troy. I can adde Colours to the Camelion, Change shapes with Proteus, for aduantages, And set the murtherous Macheuill to Schoole. Can I doe this, and cannot get a Crowne? Tut, were it farther off, Ile plucke it downe. Enter.

Flourish. Enter Lewis the French King, his Sister Bona, his Admirall, call'd Bourbon: Prince Edward, Queene Margaret, and the Earle of Oxford. Lewis sits, and riseth vp againe.

Lewis. Faire Queene of England, worthy Margaret, Sit downe with vs: it ill befits thy State, And Birth, that thou should'st stand, while Lewis doth sit

Marg. No, mightie King of France: now Margaret Must strike her sayle, and learne a while to serue, Where Kings command. I was (I must confesse) Great Albions Queene, in former Golden dayes: But now mischance hath trod my Title downe, And with dis-honor layd me on the ground, Where I must take like Seat vnto my fortune, And to my humble Seat conforme my selfe

Lewis. Why say, faire Queene, whence springs this deepe despaire? Marg. From such a cause, as fills mine eyes with teares, And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares

Lewis. What ere it be, be thou still like thy selfe, And sit thee by our side.

Seats her by him.

Yeeld not thy necke to Fortunes yoake, But let thy dauntlesse minde still ride in triumph, Ouer all mischance. Be plaine, Queene Margaret, and tell thy griefe, It shall be eas'd, if France can yeeld reliefe

Marg. Those gracious words Reuiue my drooping thoughts, And giue my tongue-ty'd sorrowes leaue to speake. Now therefore be it knowne to Noble Lewis, That Henry, sole possessor of my Loue, Is, of a King, become a banisht man, And forc'd to liue in Scotland a Forlorne; While prowd ambitious Edward, Duke of Yorke, Vsurpes the Regall Title, and the Seat Of Englands true anoynted lawfull King. This is the cause that I, poore Margaret, With this my Sonne, Prince Edward, Henries Heire, Am come to craue thy iust and lawfull ayde: And if thou faile vs, all our hope is done. Scotland hath will to helpe, but cannot helpe: Our People, and our Peeres, are both mis-led, Our Treasure seiz'd, our Souldiors put to flight, And (as thou seest) our selues in heauie plight

Lewis. Renowned Queene, With patience calme the Storme, While we bethinke a meanes to breake it off

Marg. The more wee stay, the stronger growes our Foe

Lewis. The more I stay, the more Ile succour thee

Marg. O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow. And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow. Enter Warwicke.

Lewis. What's hee approacheth boldly to our presence? Marg. Our Earle of Warwicke, Edwards greatest Friend

Lewis. Welcome braue Warwicke, what brings thee to France?

Hee descends. Shee ariseth.

Marg. I now begins a second Storme to rise, For this is hee that moues both Winde and Tyde

Warw. From worthy Edward, King of Albion, My Lord and Soueraigne, and thy vowed Friend, I come (in Kindnesse, and vnfayned Loue) First, to doe greetings to thy Royall Person, And then to craue a League of Amitie: And lastly, to confirme that Amitie With Nuptiall Knot, if thou vouchsafe to graunt That vertuous Lady Bona, thy faire Sister, To Englands King, in lawfull Marriage

Marg. If that goe forward, Henries hope is done

Warw. And gracious Madame,

Speaking to Bona.

In our Kings behalfe, I am commanded, with your leaue and fauor, Humbly to kisse your Hand, and with my Tongue To tell the passion of my Soueraignes Heart; Where Fame, late entring at his heedfull Eares, Hath plac'd thy Beauties Image, and thy Vertue

Marg. King Lewis, and Lady Bona, heare me speake, Before you answer Warwicke. His demand Springs not from Edwards well-meant honest Loue, But from Deceit, bred by Necessitie: For how can Tyrants safely gouerne home, Vnlesse abroad they purchase great allyance? To proue him Tyrant, this reason may suffice, That Henry liueth still: but were hee dead, Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henries Sonne. Looke therefore Lewis, that by this League and Mariage Thou draw not on thy Danger, and Dis-honor: For though Vsurpers sway the rule a while, Yet Heau'ns are iust, and Time suppresseth Wrongs

Warw. Iniurious Margaret

Edw. And why not Queene? Warw. Because thy Father Henry did vsurpe, And thou no more art Prince, then shee is Queene

Oxf. Then Warwicke disanulls great Iohn of Gaunt, Which did subdue the greatest part of Spaine; And after Iohn of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth, Whose Wisdome was a Mirror to the wisest: And after that wise Prince, Henry the Fift, Who by his Prowesse conquered all France: From these, our Henry lineally descends

Warw. Oxford, how haps it in this smooth discourse, You told not, how Henry the Sixt hath lost All that, which Henry the Fift had gotten: Me thinkes these Peeres of France should smile at that. But for the rest: you tell a Pedigree Of threescore and two yeeres, a silly time To make prescription for a Kingdomes worth

Oxf. Why Warwicke, canst thou speak against thy Liege, Whom thou obeyd'st thirtie and six yeeres, And not bewray thy Treason with a Blush? Warw. Can Oxford, that did euer fence the right, Now buckler Falsehood with a Pedigree? For shame leaue Henry, and call Edward King

Oxf. Call him my King, by whose iniurious doome My elder Brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere Was done to death? and more then so, my Father, Euen in the downe-fall of his mellow'd yeeres, When Nature brought him to the doore of Death? No Warwicke, no: while Life vpholds this Arme, This Arme vpholds the House of Lancaster

Warw. And I the House of Yorke

Lewis. Queene Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford, Vouchsafe at our request, to stand aside, While I vse further conference with Warwicke.

They stand aloofe.

Marg. Heauens graunt, that Warwickes wordes bewitch him not

Lew. Now Warwicke, tell me euen vpon thy conscience Is Edward your true King? for I were loth To linke with him, that were not lawfull chosen

Warw. Thereon I pawne my Credit, and mine Honor

Lewis. But is hee gracious in the Peoples eye? Warw. The more, that Henry was vnfortunate

Lewis. Then further: all dissembling set aside, Tell me for truth, the measure of his Loue Vnto our Sister Bona

War. Such it seemes, As may beseeme a Monarch like himselfe. My selfe haue often heard him say, and sweare, That this his Loue was an externall Plant, Whereof the Root was fixt in Vertues ground, The Leaues and Fruit maintain'd with Beauties Sunne, Exempt from Enuy, but not from Disdaine, Vnlesse the Lady Bona quit his paine

Lewis. Now Sister, let vs heare your firme resolue

Bona. Your graunt, or your denyall, shall be mine. Yet I confesse, that often ere this day,

Speaks to War[wicke].

When I haue heard your Kings desert recounted, Mine eare hath tempted iudgement to desire

Lewis. Then Warwicke, thus: Our Sister shall be Edwards. And now forthwith shall Articles be drawne, Touching the Ioynture that your King must make, Which with her Dowrie shall be counter-poys'd: Draw neere, Queene Margaret, and be a witnesse, That Bona shall be Wife to the English King

Pr.Edw. To Edward, but not to the English King

Marg. Deceitfull Warwicke, it was thy deuice, By this alliance to make void my suit: Before thy comming, Lewis was Henries friend

Lewis. And still is friend to him, and Margaret. But if your Title to the Crowne by weake, As may appeare by Edwards good successe: Then 'tis but reason, that I be releas'd From giuing ayde, which late I promised. Yet shall you haue all kindnesse at my hand, That your Estate requires, and mine can yeeld

Warw. Henry now liues in Scotland, at his ease; Where hauing nothing, nothing can he lose. And as for you your selfe (our quondam Queene) You haue a Father able to maintaine you, And better 'twere, you troubled him, then France

Mar. Peace impudent, and shamelesse Warwicke, Proud setter vp, and puller downe of Kings, I will not hence, till with my Talke and Teares (Both full of Truth) I make King Lewis behold Thy slye conueyance, and thy Lords false loue,

Post blowing a horne Within.

For both of you are Birds of selfe-same Feather

Lewes. Warwicke, this is some poste to vs, or thee. Enter the Poste.

Post. My Lord Ambassador, These Letters are for you.

Speakes to Warwick,

Sent from your Brother Marquesse Montague. These from our King, vnto your Maiesty.

To Lewis.

And Madam, these for you:

To Margaret

From whom, I know not.

They all reade their Letters.

Oxf. I like it well, that our faire Queene and Mistris Smiles at her newes, while Warwicke frownes at his

Prince Ed. Nay marke how Lewis stampes as he were netled. I hope, all's for the best

Lew. Warwicke, what are thy Newes? And yours, faire Queene

Mar. Mine such, as fill my heart with vnhop'd ioyes

War. Mine full of sorrow, and hearts discontent

Lew. What? has your King married the Lady Grey? And now to sooth your Forgery, and his, Sends me a Paper to perswade me Patience? Is this th' Alliance that he seekes with France? Dare he presume to scorne vs in this manner? Mar. I told your Maiesty as much before: This proueth Edwards Loue, and Warwickes honesty

War. King Lewis, I heere protest in sight of heauen, And by the hope I haue of heauenly blisse, That I am cleere from this misdeed of Edwards; No more my King, for he dishonors me, But most himselfe, if he could see his shame. Did I forget, that by the House of Yorke My Father came vntimely to his death? Did I let passe th' abuse done to my Neece? Did I impale him with the Regall Crowne? Did I put Henry from his Natiue Right? And am I guerdon'd at the last, with Shame? Shame on himselfe, for my Desert is Honor. And to repaire my Honor lost for him, I heere renounce him, and returne to Henry. My Noble Queene, let former grudges passe, And henceforth, I am thy true Seruitour: I will reuenge his wrong to Lady Bona, And replant Henry in his former state

Mar. Warwicke, These words haue turn'd my Hate, to Loue, And I forgiue, and quite forget old faults, And ioy that thou becom'st King Henries Friend

War. So much his Friend, I, his Vnfained Friend, That if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish vs With some few Bands of chosen Soldiours, Ile vndertake to Land them on our Coast, And force the Tyrant from his seat by Warre. 'Tis not his new-made Bride shall succour him. And as for Clarence, as my Letters tell me, Hee's very likely now to fall from him, For matching more for wanton Lust, then Honor, Or then for strength and safety of our Country

Bona. Deere Brother, how shall Bona be reueng'd, But by thy helpe to this distressed Queene? Mar. Renowned Prince, how shall Poore Henry liue, Vnlesse thou rescue him from foule dispaire? Bona. My quarrel, and this English Queens, are one

War. And mine faire Lady Bona, ioynes with yours

Lew. And mine, with hers, and thine, and Margarets. Therefore, at last, I firmely am resolu'd You shall haue ayde

Mar. Let me giue humble thankes for all, at once