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| Post. [To WARWICK] My lord ambassador, these letters are for you, | 3.3.166
| Sent from your brother, Marquess Montague: | 3.3.167
| To KING LEWIS XI These from our king unto your majesty: | 3.3.168
| To QUEEN MARGARET And, madam, these for you; from whom I know not. | 3.3.169
| They all read their letters | Main play link
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| Post. My sovereign liege, no letters; and few words, | 4.1.86
| But such as I, without your special pardon, | 4.1.87
| Dare not relate. | 4.1.88
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| Post. These were her words, utter'd with mad disdain: | 4.1.98
| 'Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly, | 4.1.99
| I'll wear the willow garland for his sake.' | 4.1.100
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| Post. 'Tell him,' quoth she, 'my mourning weeds are done, | 4.1.104
| And I am ready to put armour on.' | 4.1.105
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| Post. Ay, gracious sovereign; they are so link'd in | 4.1.116
| friendship | 4.1.117
| That young Prince Edward marries Warwick's daughter. | 4.1.118
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| Post. That Edward is escaped from your brother, | 4.6.79
| And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy. | 4.6.80
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