QUEEN MARGARET.
Warwick, these words have turned my hate to love;
And I forgive and quite forget old faults,
And joy that thou becom’st King Henry’s friend.
WARWICK.
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 revenged
But by thy help to this distressed queen?
QUEEN MARGARET.
Renowned prince, how shall poor Henry live
Unless thou rescue him from foul despair?
BONA.
My quarrel and this English queen’s are one.
WARWICK.
And mine, fair Lady Bona, joins with yours.
KING LEWIS.
And mine with hers, and thine, and Margaret’s.
Therefore, at last I firmly am resolved
You shall have aid.
QUEEN MARGARET.
Let me give humble thanks for all at once.
KING LEWIS.
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’ll wear the willow garland for his sake.