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