_Edw._ Ah, villains! hath that Mortimer escaped? With him is Edmund gone associate? And will Sir John of Hainault lead the round? Welcome, a God's name, madam, and your son; 40 England shall welcome you and all your rout. Gallop apace[287] bright Phoebus, through the sky, And dusky night, in rusty iron car, Between you both shorten the time, I pray, That I may see that most desirèd day, When we may meet those traitors in the field. Ah, nothing grieves me, but my little boy Is thus misled to countenance their ills. Come, friends, to Bristow, there to make us strong; And, winds, as equal be to bring them in, 50 As you injurious were to bear them forth! [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter_[288] _the_ QUEEN, _her_ Son, KENT, MORTIMER, _and_ SIR JOHN HAINAULT. _Queen._ Now, lords, our loving friends and countrymen, Welcome to England all, with prosperous winds; Our kindest friends in Belgia have we left, To cope with friends at home; a heavy case When force to force is knit, and sword and glaive In civil broils make kin and countrymen Slaughter themselves in others, and their sides With their own weapons gored! But what's the help? Misgoverned kings are cause of all this wreck; And, Edward, thou art one among them all, 10 Whose looseness hath betrayed thy land to spoil, Who made the channel[289] overflow with blood Of thine own people; patron shouldst thou be, But thou---- _Y. Mor._ Nay, madam, if you be a warrior, You must not grow so passionate in speeches. Lords, Sith that we are by sufferance of heaven Arrived, and armèd in this prince's right, Here for our country's cause swear we to him 20 All homage, fealty, and forwardness; And for the open wrongs and injuries Edward hath done to us, his queen and land, We come in arms to wreak it with the sword; That England's queen in peace may repossess Her dignities and honours: and withal We may remove these flatterers from the king, That havoc England's wealth and treasury. _Sir. J._ Sound trumpets, my lord, and forward let us march. Edward will think we come to flatter him. 30 _Kent._ I would he never had been flattered more! [_Exeunt._ SCENE V. _Enter_[290] _the_ KING, BALDOCK, _and_ YOUNG SPENCER, _flying about the stage._ _Y. Spen._ Fly, fly, my lord! the queen is over-strong; Her friends do multiply, and yours do fail. Shape we our course to Ireland, there to breathe.