Scene
II
Paris.
Enter Queen Isabella and Prince Edward.
Queen Isabella
Ah, boy, our friends do fail us all in France!
The lords are cruel, and the king unkind.
What shall we do?
Prince Edward
Madam, return to England,
And please my father well; and then a fig
For all my uncle’s friendship here in France!
I warrant you, I’ll win his highness quickly;
’A loves me better than a thousand Spensers.
Queen Isabella
Ah, boy, thou art deceived, at least in this,
To think that we can yet be tuned together!
No, no, we jar too far.—Unkind Valois!
Unhappy Isabel, when France rejects,
Whither, O, whither dost thou bend thy steps?
Enter Sir John of Hainault.
Sir John
Madam, what cheer?
Queen Isabella
Ah, good Sir John of Hainault,
Never so cheerless nor so far distrest!
Sir John
I hear, sweet lady, of the king’s unkindness:
But droop not, madam; noble minds contemn
Despair. Will your grace with me to Hainault,
And there stay time’s advantage with your son?—
How say you, my lord! will you go with your friends,
And shake off all our fortunes equally?
Prince Edward
So pleaseth the queen my mother, me it likes:
The king of England, not the court of France,
Shall have me from my gracious mother’s side,
Till I be strong enough to break a staff;
And then have at the proudest Spenser’s head!
Sir John
Well said, my lord!
Queen Isabella
O my sweet heart, how do I moan thy wrongs,
Yet triumph in the hope of thee, my joy!—
Ah, sweet Sir John, even to the utmost verge
Of Europe, on the shore of Tanais,
Will we with thee to Hainault—so we will:
The marquis is a noble gentleman;
His grace, I dare presume, will welcome me.—
But who are these?
Enter Kent and the Younger Mortimer.
Kent
Madam, long may you live,
Much happier than your friends in England do!
Queen Isabella
Lord Edmund and Lord Mortimer alive!
Welcome to France! the news was here, my lord,
That you were dead, or very near your death.
Younger Mortimer
Lady, the last was truest of the twain:
But Mortimer, reserved for better hap,
Hath shaken off the thraldom of the Tower,
And lives to advance your standard, good my lord.
Prince Edward
How mean you, and the king my father lives?
No, my Lord Mortimer, not I, I trow.
Queen Isabella
Not, son! Why not? I would it were no worse!—
But, gentle lords, friendless we are in France.
Younger Mortimer
Monsieur Le Grand, a noble friend of yours,
Told us, at our arrival, all the news—
How hard the nobles, how unkind the king
Hath showed himself: but, madam, right makes room
Where weapons want; and, though a many friends
Are made away, as Warwick, Lancaster,
And others of our part and faction,
Yet have we friends, assure your grace, in England,
Would cast up caps, and clap their hands for joy,
To see us there, appointed for our foes.
Kent
Would all were well, and Edward well reclaimed,
For England’s honour, peace, and quietness!
Younger Mortimer
But by the sword, my lord, ’t must be deserved:
The king will ne’er forsake his flatterers.
Sir John
My lords of England, sith the ungentle king
Of France refuseth to give aid of arms
To this distressed queen, his sister, here,
Go you with her to Hainault: doubt ye not
We will find comfort, money, men, and friends,
Ere long to bid the English king a base.—
How say’st, young prince, what think you of the match?
Prince Edward
I think King Edward will outrun us all.
Queen Isabella
Nay, son, not so; and you must not discourage
Your friends that are so forward in your aid.
Kent
Sir John of Hainault, pardon us, I pray:
These comforts that you give our woeful queen
Bind us in kindness all at your command.
Queen Isabella
Yea, gentle brother:—and the God of heaven
Prosper your happy motion, good Sir John!
Younger Mortimer
This noble gentleman, forward in arms,
Was born, I see, to be our anchor-hold.—
Sir John of Hainault, be it thy renown,
That England’s queen and nobles in distress
Have been by thee restored and comforted.
Sir John
Madam, along; and you, my lords, with me,
That England’s peers may Hainault’s welcome see.
Exeunt.