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John Dryden (1631–1700). All for Love.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.

Scene II Act the Fourth

42. Act the Fourth


Q. Isab.Ah, boy! our friends do fail us all in France.The lords are cruel, and the king unkind;What shall we do?P. Edw.Madam, return to England,And please my father well, and then a figFor all my uncle’s friendship here in France.I warrant you, I’ll win his highness quickly;’A loves me better than a thousand Spencers.Q. Isab.Ah, boy, thou art deceiv’d, at least in this,To think that we can yet be tun’d together;No, no, we jar too far. Unkind Valois!Unhappy Isabel! when France rejects,Whither, oh! whither dost thou bend thy steps?

Sir. J.Madam, what cheer?Q. Isab.Ah! good Sir John of Hainault,Never so cheerless, nor so far distrest.Sir I.I hear, sweet lady, of the king’s unkindness;But droop not, madam; noble minds contemnDespair. 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?P. Edw.So pleaseth the queen, my mother, me it likes.The King of England, nor 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 Spencer’s head.Sir. J.Well said, my lord.Q. Isab.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 vergeOf Europe, or 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 Young MORTIMER

Kent.Madam, long may you live,Much happier than your friends in England do!Q. Isab.Lord Edmund and Lord Mortimer alive!Welcome to France! The news was here, my lord,That you were dead, or very near your death.Y. Mor.Lady, the last was truest of the twain;But Mortimer, reserv’d for better hap,Hath shaken off the thraldom of the Tower,And lives t’ advance your standard, good my lord.P. Edw.How mean you? An the king, my father, lives?No, my Lord Mortimer, not I, I trow.Q. Isab.Not, son! why not? I would it were no worse.But, gentle lords, friendless we are in France.Y. Mor.Monsieur le Grand, a noble friend of yours,Told us, at our arrival, all the news:How hard the nobles, how unkind the kingHath show’d himself; but, madam, right makes roomWhere weapons want; and, though a many friendsAre made away, as Warwick, Lancaster,And others of our party and faction;Yet have we friends, assure your grace, in EnglandWould 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 reclaim’d,For England’s honour, peace, and quietness.Y. Mor.But by the sword, my lord, ’t must be deserv’d;The king will ne’er forsake his flatterers.Sir. J.My lord of England, sith th’ ungentle kingOf France refuseth to give aid of armsTo this distressed queen his sister here,Go you with her to Hainault. Doubt ye not,We will find comfort, money, men, and friendsEre long, to bid the English king a base.How say, young prince? What think you of the match?P. Edw.I think King Edward will outrun us all.Q. Isab.Nay, son, not so; and you must not discourageYour friends, that are so forward in your aid.Kent.Sir John of Hainault, pardon us, I pray;These comforts that you give our woful queenBind us in kindness all at your command.Q. Isab.Yea, gentle brother; and the God of heavenProsper your happy motion, good Sir John.Y. Mor.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 restor’d and comforted.Sir I.Madam, along, and you my lords, with me,That England’s peers may Hainault’s welcome see.[Exeunt.]