Kent. Mortimer, 'tis I; But hath thy portion wrought so happily?
Y. Mor. It hath, my lord; the warders all asleep, I thank them, gave me leave to pass in peace. But hath your grace got shipping unto France?
Kent. Fear it not. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter [274] the Queen and her Son.
Queen. Ah, boy! our friends do fail us all in France: The lords are cruel, and the king unkind; What shall we do? [275]
Prince. 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; He loves me better than a thousand Spencers.
Queen. 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!10 Unhappy Isabel! when France rejects, Whither, oh! whither dost thou bend thy steps?
Enter Sir John of Hainault.
Sir J. Madam, what cheer?