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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.
Kent. I would he never had been flattered more!
Enter KING EDWARD, BALDOCK, and Young SPENCER.
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.
K. Edw. What! was I born to fly and run away,
And leave the Mortimers conquerors behind ?
Give me my horse, and let's reinforce our troops :
And in this bed of honour die with fame.
Bald. O no, my lord, this princely resolution
Fits not the time; away! we are pursued.
[Exeunt. Enter KENT, with sword and target. Kent. This way he fled, but I am come too late. Edward, alas ! my heart relents for thee. Proud traitor, Mortimer, why dost thou chase Thy lawful king, thy sovereign, with thy sword? Vile wretch ! and why hast thou, of all unkind, Borne arms against thy brother and thy king? Rain showers of vengeance on my cursed head, Thou God, to whom in justice it belongs To punish this unnatural revolt! Edward, this Mortimer aims at thy life! O fly him, then! But, Edmund, calm this rage, Dissemble, or thou diest; for Mortimer And Isabel do kiss, while they conspire : And yet she bears a face of love forsooth. Fie on that love that hatcheth death and hate ! Edmund, away! Bristow to Longshanks' blood Is false ; be not found single for suspect : Proud Mortimer pries near unto thy walks.
Enter QUEEN ISABELLA, PRINCE EDWARD, Young MORTIMER, and Sir
JOHN of HAINAULT.
Q. Isab. Successful battle gives the God of kings
To them that fight in right and fear his wrath.
Since then successfully we have prevailed,
Thanked be Heaven's great architect, and you.
Ere farther we proceed, my noble lords,
We here create our well-beloved son,
Of love and care unto his royal person
Lord Warden of the realm, and sith the fates
Have made his father so infortunate,
Deal you, my lords, in this, my loving lords,
As to your wisdoms fittest seems in all.
Kent. Madam, without offence, if I may ask,
How will you deal with Edward in his fall?
P. Edw. Tell me, good uncle, what Edward do you mean?
Kent. Nephew, your father: I dare not call him king.
Y. Mor. My lord of Kent, what needs these questions?
'Tis not in her controlment, nor in ours,
But as the realm and parliament shall please,
So shall your brother be disposed of. -
I like not this relenting mood in Edmund.
Madam, 'tis good to look to him betimes.
[Aside to the QUEEN. Q. Isab. My lord, the Mayor of Bristow knows our mind.
Y. Mor. Yea, madam, and they 'scape not easily
That fled the field.
Q. Isab. Baldock is with the king.
A goodly chancellor, is he not, my lord ?
Sir J. So are the Spencers, the father and the son.
Kent. This Edward is the ruin of the realm.
Enter RICE AP HOWELL, with the Elder SPENCER prisoner, and
Rice. God save Queen Isabel, and her princely son !
Madam, the mayor and citizens of Bristow,
In sign of love and duty to this presence,
Present by me this traitor to the state,
Spencer, the father to that wanton Spencer,
That, like the lawless Catiline of Rome,
Revelled in England's wealth and treasury.
Q. Isab. We thank you all.
Y. Mor. Your loving care in this
Deserveth princely favours and rewards.
But where's the king and the other Spencer fled?
Rice. Spencer the son, created Earl of Gloucester,
Is with that smooth-tongued scholar Baldock gone,
And shipped but late for Ireland with the king.
Y. Mor. Some whirlwind fetch him back or sink them all ! -
[Aside. They shall be started thence, I doubt it not.
P. Edw. Shall I not see the king my father yet?
Kent. Unhappy Edward, chased from England's bounds.
[Aside. Sir J. Madam, what resteth, why stand you in a muse?
Q. Isab. I rue my lord's ill-fortune; but alas !
Care of my country called me to this war.
Y. Mor. Madam, have done with care and sad complaint;
Your king hath wronged your country and himself,
And we must seek to right it as we may.
Meanwhile, have hence this rebel to the block.
E. Spen. Rebel is he that fights against the prince ;
So fought not they that fought in Edward's right.
Y. Mor. Take him away, he prates ;
[Exeunt Attendants with the Elder SPENCER.
You, Rice ap Howell,
Shall do good service to her majesty,
Being of countenance in your country here,
To follow these rebellious runagates.
We in meanwhile, madam, must take advice,
How Baldock, Spencer, and their complices,
May in their fall be followed to their end.
SCENE VI. — IN NEATH ABBEY, SOUTH WALES
Enter the Abbot, Monks, KING EDWARD, Young SPENCER, and
BALDOCK (the three latter disguised).
Abbot. Have you no doubt, my
you no fear;
As silent and as careful we will be,
To keep your royal person safe with us,
Free from suspect, and fell invasion
Of such as have your majesty in chase,
Yourself, and those your chosen company,
As danger of this stormy time requires.
K. Edw. Father, thy face should harbour no deceit.
O! hadst thou ever been a king, thy heart,
Pierced deeply with a sense of my distress,
Could not but take compassion of my state.
Stately and proud, in riches and in train,
Whilom I was, powerful, and full of pomp:
But what is he whom rule and empery
Have not in life or death made miserable ?
Come, Spencer; come Baldock, come, sit down by me;
Make trial now of that philosophy,
That in our famous nurseries of arts
Thou suck'dst from Plato and from Aristotle.
Father, this life contemplative is Heaven.
O that I might this life in quiet lead !
But we, alas ! are chased; and you, my friends,
Your lives and my dishonour they pursue.
Yet, gentle monks, for treasure, gold nor fee,
Do you betray us and our company.
Monk. Your grace may sit secure,
if none but we Do wot of your abode.
Y. Spen. Not one alive, but shrewdly I suspect
A gloomy fellow in a mead below.
'A gave a long look after us, my lord ;
And all the land I know is up in arms,
Arms that pursue our lives with deadly hate.
Bald. We were embarked for Ireland, wretched we !
With awkward winds and sore tempests driven
To fall on shore, and here to pine in fear
Of Mortimer and his confederates.
K. Edw. Mortimer! who talks of Mortimer?
Who wounds me with the name of Mortimer,
That bloody man? Good father, on thy lap
Lay I this head, laden with mickle care.
O might I never open these eyes again !
Never again lift up this drooping head !
O never more lift up this dying heart !
Y. Spen. Look up, my lord. — Baldock, this drowsiness Betides no good; here even we are betrayed.
Enter, with Welsh hooks, RICE AP HOWELL, a Mower, and
Mow. Upon my life, these be the men ye seek.
Rice. Fellow, enough. — My lord, I pray be short,
A fair commission warrants what we do.
Leices. The queen's commission, urged by Mortimer;
What can not gallant Mortimer with the queen?
Alas ! see where he sits, and hopes unseen
To escape their hands that seek to reave his life.
Too true it is, “ Quem dies vidit veniens superbum
Hunc dies vidit fugiens jacentem." ;
But, Leicester, leave to grow so passionate.
Spencer and Baldock, by no other names,
I do arrest you of high treason here.
Stand not on titles, but obey the arrest;
'Tis in the name of Isabel the queen.
My lord, why droop you thus ?
K. Edw. O day the last of all my bliss on earth !
Centre of all misfortune! O my stars,
Why do you lour unkindly on a king?
Comes Leicester, then, in Isabella's name
To take my life, my company from me?
Here, man, rip up this panting breast of mine,
And take my heart in rescue of my
Rice. Away with them !
Y. Spen. It may become thee yet
To let us take our farewell of his grace.
Abbot. My heart with pity earns 2 to see this sight,
A king to bear these words and proud commands. [Aside.
K. Edw. Spencer, ah, sweet Spencer, thus then must we part?
Y. Spen. We must, my lord, so will the angry Heavens.
K. Edw. Nay, so will hell and cruel Mortimer;
The gentle Heavens have not to do in this.
Bald. My lord, it is in vain to grieve or storm.
Here humbly of your grace we take our leaves ;
Our lots are cast; I fear me, so is thine.
K. Edw. In Heaven we may, in earth ne'er shall we meet:
And, Leicester, say, what shall become of us ?
Leices. Your majesty must go to Killingworth.3
K. Edw. Must! it is somewhat hard, when kings must go.
Leices. Here is a litter ready for your grace,
That waits your pleasure, and the day grows old.
Rice. As good be gone, as stay and be benighted.
K. Edw. A litter hast thou? lay me in a hearse,
And to the gates of hell convey me hence;
Let Pluto's bells ring out my fatal knell,
And hags howl for my death at Charon's shore,
For friends hath Edward none but these,
And these must die under a tyrant's sword.
Rice. My lord, be going ; care not for these,
For we shall see them shorter by the heads.
K. Edw. Well, that shall be, shall be : part we must! 1 He whom the day sees advancing proudly the same day sees flying defeated. Seneca, Thyestes, 613. 2 Yeards.