_Bal._ Yea, but, Levune, thou seest These barons lay their heads on blocks together; What they intend, the hangman frustrates clean. 90 _Levune._ Have you no doubt, my lords, I'll clap[272] so close Among the lords of France with England's gold, That Isabel shall make her plaints in vain, And France shall be obdurate with her tears. _Y. Spen._ Then make for France, amain--Levune, away! Proclaim King Edward's wars and victories. [_Exeunt omnes._ ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE I. _Enter_[273] KENT. _Kent._ Fair blows the wind for France; blow gentle gale, Till Edmund be arrived for England's good! Nature, yield to my country's cause in this. A brother? no, a butcher of thy friends! Proud Edward, dost thou banish me thy presence? But I'll to France, and cheer the wrongèd queen, And certify what Edward's looseness is. Unnatural king! to slaughter noblemen And cherish flatterers! Mortimer, I stay Thy sweet escape; stand gracious, gloomy night, 10 To his device. _Enter_ YOUNG MORTIMER, _disguised._ _Y. Mor._ Holla! who walketh there? Is't you, my lord? _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? _Queen._ Ah! good Sir John of Hainault, Never so cheerless, nor so far distrest. _Sir J._ 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? 20