Marlowe, Christopher, 1564-1593 : : Edward II (1594) a machine-readable transcription of the 1594 edition
compiled byHugh Craig
Version 1
Christopher Marlowe, 1564-1593 (1564-1593) The troublesome raigne and lamentable death of Edward the second, King of England:
with the tragicall fall of proud Mortimer:
As it was sundrie times publiquely acted in the honourable citie of London,
by the right honourable the Earle of Pembrooke his seruants. Written by Chri. Marlow
London
Imprinted ... for William Iones [etc. ] 1594

1594
Hugh Craig, Amherst, 2003

correction silent following facsimile
normalization explicit
tags keep
analysis elected part of sp suffixes as entities
The characters are identified by IDREF pointing to information in
the following declarations.
Gaveston, Earl of Cornwall
Edward
First poor man
Second poor man
Third poor man
Lightborn
Lancaster
Matrevis
Gurney
Mortimer Junior
Mortimer Senior
Warwick
Spenser Junior
Edmund, Earl of Kent, brother of the King
Bishop of Coventry
Bishop of Canterbury
Bishop of Winchester
Queen Isabella
Pembroke
Henry de Beaumont
Baldock
Spenser Junior
Spenser Senior
multiple
Kady Margaret de Clare
messenger
Guard
Arundel
Horse Boy
James
Levune
Prince Edward, later King Edward III
Sir John of Hainault
Post
Rice ap Howell
Abbot
Monk
Mower
Leicester
First Lord
Second Lord
Sir William Trussel
Sir Thomas Berkeley
Soldier
Champion
The languages (other than English) which occur in the text are identified by idREF which
point to the following.
Latin
The troublesome
reign and lamentable death of
Edward the second, King of
England with the tragical
fall of proud Mortimer:
as it was sundry times publicly acted
in the honourable city of London, by the
right honourable the Earl of Pembrooke
his servants.
Written by Chri. Marlow Gent.
Imprinted at London for William Jones
dwelling near Holbourne conduit, at the
sign of the Gun. 1594.
Enter Gauestone reading on a letter that
was brought him from the king.
MY father is deceased, come Gaueston,
And share the kingdom with thy dearest friend
Ah words that make me surfeit with delight:
What greater bliss can hap to Gaueston,
Than live and be the favourite of a king?
Sweet prince I come, these these thy amorous lines,
Might have enforced me to have swum from France,
And like Leander gasped upon the sand,
So thou wouldst smile and take me in thy arms.
The sight of London to my exiled eyes,
Is as Elizium to a new come soul,
Not that I love the city or the men,
But that it harbours him I hold so dear,
The king, upon whose bosom let me die,
And with the world be still at enmity:
What need the arctic people love star-light,
To whom the sun shines both by day and night.
Farewell base stooping to the lordly peers,
My knee shall bow to none but to the king,
As for the multitude that are but sparks,
Raked up in embers of their poverty,
Tanti: I will fan first on the wind,
That glanceth at my lips and flieth away;
But how now, what are these?
Enter three poor men.
Poor men.
Such as desire your worships service.
Gavest:
What canst thou do?
1. poor. :
I can ride.
Gavest:
But I have no horses. What art thou?
2. poor. :
A traveller.
Gavest:
Let me see, thou wouldst do well
To wait at my trencher, and tell me lies at dinner time,
And as I like your discoursing, I will you.
And what art thou?
3. poor. :
A soldier, that hath served against the Scot.
Gavest:
Why there are hospitals for such as you,
I have no war, and therefore sir be gone.
Sold. :
Farewell, and perish by a soldiers hand,
That wouldst reward them with an hospital.
Gau. :
Aye, Aye, these words of his move me as much,
As if a Goose should play the Porpintine,
And dart her plumes, thinking to pierce my breast,
But yet it is no pain to speak
men fair,
I will flatter these, and make them
live in hope:
You know that I came lately out of France,
And yet I have not viewed my Lord the king,
If I speed well, I will entertain you all.
Omnes. :
We thank your worship.
Gavest:
I have some business,
leave me to myself.
Omnes. :
We will wait here about the court.
Exeunt.
Gavest:
Do: these are not men for me,
I must have wanton Poets, pleasant wits,
Musicians, that with touching of a string
May draw the pliant king which way I please:
Music and poetry is his delight,
Therefore I will have Italian masks by night,
Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows,
And in the day when he shall walk abroad,
Like Sylvan Nymphs my pages shall be clad,
My men like Satyrs grazing on the lawns,
Shall with their Goat feet dance an antic hay,
Sometime a lovely boy in Dians shape,
With hair that gilds the water as it glides,
Coronets of pearl about his naked arms,
And in his sportful hands an Olive tree,
To hide those parts which men delight to see,
Shall bathe him in a spring, and there hard by,
One like Actaeon peeping through the grove,
Shall by the angry goddess be transformed,
And running in the likeness of an Hart,
By yelping hounds pulled down,
and seem to die,
Such things as these best please his majesty.
My lord, here comes the king and the nobles
From the parliament, I will stand aside.
Enter the King, Lancaster, Mortimer senior, Mortimer junior, Edmund
Earl of Kent, Guy Earl of Warwicke,
Edward. :
Lancaster.
Lancast. :
My Lord.
Gavest:
That Earl of Lancaster do I abhor.
Edw. :
Will you not grant me this? in spite of them
I will have my will,
and these two Mortimers,
That cross me thus, shall know I am displeased.
Mor. se. :
If you love us my lord, hate
Gaueston.
Gavest:
That villain Mortimer
I will be his death.
Mor. iu. :
Mine uncle here, this Earl, and
I myself,
Were sworn to your father at his death,
That he should never return into the realm:
And know my lord, ere I will break my oath,
This sword of mine that should offend your foes,
Shall sleep within the scabbard at thy need,
And underneath thy banners march who will,
For Mortimer will hang his
armour up.
Gavest:
Mort. dieu.
Edw. :
Well Mortimer, I will
make thee rue these words,
Beseems it thee to contradict thy king?
Frownest thou thereat aspiring Lancaster,
The sword shall plane the furrows of thy brows,
And hew these knees that now are grown so stiff,
I will have
Gaueston, and you shall know,
What danger it is to stand against your king.
Gavest:
Well done, Ned.
Lan. :
My lord, why do you thus incense your peers,
That naturally would love and honour you:
But for that base and obscure Gaueston,
Four Earldoms have I besides Lancaster,
Darbie, Salisbury, Lincoln, Leicester,
These will I sell to give my soldiers pay,
Ere Gaueston shall stay within the realm,
Therefore if he be come, expel him straight.
Edm. :
Barons and Earls, your pride hath made me mute,
But now I will speak,
and to the proof I hope:
I do remember in my fathers days,
Lord Percy of the North being highly moved,
Braved Mowberie in presence of the king,
For which, had not his highness loved him well,
He should have lost his head, but
with his look,
The undaunted spirit of Percy was appeased,
And Mowberie and he were reconciled:
Yet dare you brave the king unto his face,
Brother revenge it, and let these their heads,
Preach upon poles for trespass of their tongues.
Warwicke. :
O our heads.
Edw. :
Aye yours, and therefore I would wish you grant.
Warw. :
Bridle thy anger gentle Mortimer.
Mor. iu. :
I cannot, nor I will not, I must speak,
Cousin, our hands I hope shall fence our heads,
And strike off his that makes you threaten us.
Come uncle, let us leave the brainsick king,
And henceforth parley with our naked swords.
Mor. se. :
Wilshire hath men enough to save our heads.
Warw. :
All Warwickshire will love him for my sake.
Lanc. :
And Northward Gaueston hath many friends,
Adieu my Lord, and either change your mind,
Or look to see the throne where you should sit,
To float in blood, and at thy wanton head,
The glossing head of thy base minion thrown.
Exeunt Nobiles.
Edw. :
I cannot brooke these haughty menaces:
Am I a king and must be over ruled?
Brother display my ensigns in the field,
I will bandy with the Barons and the Earls,
And either die, or live with Gaueston.
Gau. :
I can no longer keep me from my lord.
Edw. :
What Gaueston, welcome: kiss not my hand,
Embrace me Gaueston as I do thee:
Why shouldest thou kneel,
Knowest thou not who I am?
Thy friend, thyself, another
Gaueston,
Not Hilas was more mourned of
Hercules,
than thou hast been
of me since thy exile.
Gau. :
And since I went from hence, no soul in hell
Hath felt more torment than poor
Gaueston.
Edw. :
I know it, brother welcome home my friend,
Now let the treacherous Mortimers conspire,
And that high minded earl of Lancaster,
I have my wish, in that I joy thy sight,
And sooner shall the sea over whelm my land,
Than bear the ship that shall transport thee hence:
I here create thee Lord high Chamberlain,
Chief Secretary to the state and me,
Earl of Cornewall, king and lord of Man.
Gavest:
My lord, these titles far exceed my worth.
Kent. :
Brother, the least of these may well suffice
For one of greater birth than
Gaueston.
Edw. :
Cease brother, for I cannot brooke these words,
Thy worth sweet friend is far above my gifts,
Therefore to equal it receive my heart,
If for these dignities thou be envied,
I will give thee more, for but to honour thee,
Is Edward pleased with kingly regiment.
Fearest thou thy person? thou shalt have a guard:
Wants thou gold? go to my treasury,
Wouldst thou be loved and feared? receive my seal,
Save or condemn, and in our name command,
What so thy mind affects or fancy likes.
Gave. :
It shall suffice me to enjoy your love,
Which whiles I have, I
think myself as great,
As Caesar riding in the Roman street,
With captive kings at his triumphant Car.
Enter the Bishop of Coventry.
Edw. :
Whether goes my Lord of Coventry so fast?
Bish. :
To celebrate your fathers exequies,
But is that wicked Gaueston returned?
Edw. :
Aye priest, and lives to be revenged on thee,
That wert the only cause of his exile.
Gave. :
It is true, and but for reverence of these robes,
Thou shouldest not plod one foot beyond this place.
Bish. :
I did no more than I was bound to do,
And Gaueston unless thou be reclaimed,
As then I did incense the parliament,
So will I now, and thou shalt back to France.
Gave. :
Saving your reverence, you must pardon me.
Edw. :
Throw off his golden mitre, rend his stole,
And in the channel christen him a new.
Kent. :
Ah brother, lay not violent hands on him,
For he will complain
unto the sea of Rome.
Gave. :
Let him complain unto the sea of hell,
I will be revenged on him for my exile.
Edw. :
No, spare his life, but seize upon his goods,
Be thou lord bishop, and receive his rents,
And make him serve thee as thy chaplain,
I give him thee, here use him as thou wilt.
Gave. :
He shall to prison, and there die in bolts.
Edw. :
Aye to the tower, the fleet, or where thou wilt.
Bish. :
For this offence be thou accursed of God.
Edw. :
Who is there? convey this priest to the tower.
Bish. :
True, true.
Edw. :
But in the mean time Gaueston away,
And take possession of his house and goods,
Come follow me, and thou shalt have my guard,
To see it done, and bring thee safe again.
Gave. :
What should a priest do with so fair a house?
A prison may beseem his holiness.
Enter both the Mortimers, Warwicke, and Lancaster.
War. :
It is true, the Bishop is in the tower,
And goods and body given to
Gaueston.
Lan. :
What? will they tyrannize upon the Church?
Ah wicked king, accursed Gaueston,
This ground which is corrupted with their steps,
Shall be their timeless sepulchre, or mine.
Mor. iu. :
Well, let that peevish Frenchman guard him sure
Unless his breast be sword proof he shall die.
Mor. se. :
How now, why droops the earl of Lancaster?
Mor. iu. :
Wherefore is Guy of Warwicke discontent?
Lan. :
That villain Gaueston is made an Earl.
Mortim. sen. :
An Earl!
War. :
Aye, and besides, lord Chamberlain of the realm,
And secretary to, and lord of Man.
Mor. se. :
We may not, nor we will not suffer this.
Mor. iu. :
Why post we not from hence to levy men?
Lan. :
My lord of Cornewall, now at every word,
And happy is the man, whom he vouchsafes
For veiling of his bonnet one good look,
Thus arm in arm, the king and he doth march:
Nay more, the guard upon his lordship waits:
And all the court begins to flatter him.
War. :
Thus leaning on the shoulder of the king.
He nods, and scorns, and smiles at those that pass.
Mor. se. :
Doth no man take exceptions at the slave?
Lan. :
All stomach him, but none dare speak a word.
Mor. iu. :
Ah that bewrays their baseness Lancaster,
Were all the Earls and Barons of my mind,
We will hale him from the bosom of the king,
And at the court gate hang the peasant up,
Who swollen with venom of ambitious pride,
Will be the ruin of the realm and us.
Enter the Bishop of Canterbury.
War. :
Here comes my lord of Canterbury's grace.
Lan. :
His countenance bewrays he is displeased.
Bish. :
First were his sacred garments rent and torn,
Then laid they violent hands upon him next,
Himself imprisoned, and his goods asseized,
This certify the Pope, away take horse.
Lan. :
My lord, will you take arms against the king?
Bish. :
What need I, God himself is up in arms,
When violence is offered to the church.
Mor. iu. :
Then will you join with
us that be his peers
To banish or behead that Gaueston?
Bish. :
What else my lords, for it concerns me near,
The Bishopric of Coventry is his.
Enter the Queen.
Mor. iu. :
Madam, whether walks your majesty so fast?
Que. :
Unto the forest gentle Mortimer,
To live in grief and baleful discontent,
For now my lord the king regards me not,
But dotes upon the
love of Gaueston,
He claps his cheeks, and hangs about his neck,
Smiles in his face, and whispers in his ears,
And when I come, he frowns, as who should say,
Go whether thou wilt seeing I have Gaueston.
Mor. se. :
Is it not strange, that he is thus bewitched?
Mor. iu. :
Madam, return unto the court
again:
That sly inveigling Frenchman we will exile,
Or lose our lives: and yet ere that day come,
The king shall lose his crown, for we have power,
And courage too, to be revenged at full.
Bish. :
But yet lift not your swords against the king.
Lan. :
No, but we will lift
Gaueston from hence.
War. :
And war must be the means, or he will stay still.
Queen. :
Then let him stay, for rather than my lord
Shall be oppressed by civil mutinies,
I will endure a melancholy life,
And let him frolic with his minion.
Bish. :
My lords, to ease all this, but hear
me speak,
We and the rest that are his counsellors,
Will meet, and with a general consent,
Confirm his banishment with our hands and seals.
Lan. :
What we confirm the king will frustrate.
Mor. iu. :
Then may we lawfully revolt from him.
War. :
But say my lord, where shall this meeting be?
Bish. :
At the new temple.
Mor. iu. :
Content:
And in the mean time I will entreat you all,
To cross to Lambeth, and there stay with me.
Lan. :
Come then let us away.
Mor. iu. :
Madam farewell.
Qu. :
Farewell sweet Mortimer, and for my sake,
Forbear to levy arms against the king.
Mor. iu. :
Aye, if words will serve, if not, I must.
Enter Gaueston and the earl of Kent.
Gau. :
Edmund the mighty prince of Lancaster,
That hath more earldoms than an ass can bear,
And both the Mortimers two goodly men,
With Guy of Warwick that redoubted knight,
Are gone towards Lambeth, there let them remain.
Exeunt.
Enter Nobiles.
Lan. :
Here is the form of Gauestons exile:
May it please your lordship to subscribe your name.
Bish. :
Give me the paper.
Lan. :
Quick quick my lord,
I long to write my name.
War. :
But I long more to see him banished hence.
Mor. iu. :
The name of Mortimer shall fright the king,
Unless he be declined from that base peasant.
Enter the King and Gaueston.
Edw. :
What? are you moved that Gaueston
sits here?
It is our pleasure, we will
have it so.
Lan. :
Your grace doth well to place him by your side,
For no where else the new earl is so safe.
Mor. se. :
What man of noble birth can brooke this sight?
See what a scornful look the peasant casts.
Penb. :
Can kingly Lions fawn on creeping Ants?
War. :
Ignoble vassal that like Phaeton,
Aspirest unto the guidance of the sun.
Mor. iu. :
Their downfall is at hand, their forces down,
We will not thus be facest and overpeered.
Edw. :
Lay hands on that traitor Mortimer.
Mor. se. :
Lay hands on that traitor Gaueston.
Kent. :
Is this the duty that you owe your king?
War. :
We know our duties, let him know his peers.
Edw. :
Whether will you bear him, stay or ye shall die,
Mor. se. :
We are no traitors, therefore threaten not.
Gau. :
No, threaten not my lord, but pay them home.
Were I a king.
Mor. iu. :
Thou villain, wherefore talks thou of a king,
That hardly art a gentleman by birth?
Edw. :
Were he a peasant being my minion,
I will make the proudest of you stoop to him.
Lan. :
My lord, you may not thus disparage us,
Away I say with hateful Gaueston.
Mort. se. :
And with the earl of Kent that favours him.
Edw. :
Nay, then lay violent hands upon your king,
Here Mortimer, sit thou in
Edwards throne,
Warwicke and Lancaster,
wear you my crown,
Was ever king thus over ruled as I?
Lan. :
Learn then to rule us better and the realm.
Mor. iu. :
What we have done,
our heart blood shall maintain.
War. :
Think you that we can brooke this upstart pride?
Edw. :
Anger and wrathful fury stops my speech.
Bish. :
Why are you moved, be patient my lord,
And see what we your counsellors have done.
Mor. iu. :
My lords, now let us all be resolute,
And either have our wills, or lose our lives.
Edw. :
Meet you for this, proud overdaring peers,
Ere my sweet Gaueston shall part from me,
This Isle shall fleet upon the Ocean,
And wander to the unfrequented Inde.
Bish:
You know that I am legate to the Pope,
On your allegiance to the sea of Rome,
Subscribe as we have done to his exile.
Mor. iu. :
Curse him, if he refuse, and then may we
Depose him and elect an other king.
Edw. :
Aye there it goes, but yet I will not yield,
Curse me, depose me, do the worst you can.
Lan. :
Then linger not my lord but do it straight.
Bish:
Remember how the Bishop was abused,
Either banish him that was the cause thereof.
Or I will presently discharge these lords,
Of duty and allegiance due to thee.
Edw. :
It boots me not to threat, I must speak fair,
The Legate of the Pope will be obeyed:
My lord, you shall be Chancellor of the realm,
Thou Lancaster, high admiral of our fleet,
Young Mortimer and his uncle
shall be earls,
And you lord Warwick, president of the North,
And thou of Wales, if this content you not,
Make several kingdoms of this monarchy,
And share it equally amongst you all,
So I may have some nook or corner left,
To frolic with my dearest Gaueston.
Bish:
Nothing shall alter us we are resolved.
Lan. :
Come, come, subscribe.
Mor. iu. :
Why should you love him,
whom the world hates so?
Edw. :
Because he loves me more than all the world:
Ah none but rude and savage minded men,
Would seek the ruin of my Gaueston,
You that be noble born should pity him.
Warwicke.
You that are princely born should shake him off,
For shame subscribe, and let the lown depart.
Mor. se. :
Urge him my lord.
Bish
Are you content to banish him the realm?
Edw. :
I see I must, and therefore am content,
In steed of ink, I will
write it with my tears.
Mor. iu. :
The king is love-sick for his minion.
Edw. :
It is done, and now accursed hand fall off.
Lan. :
Give it me, I will have
it published in the streets.
Mor. iu. :
I will see him presently dispatched away.
Bish:
Now is my heart at ease.
Warw. :
And so is mine.
Penb. :
This will be good news to the common sort.
Mor. se. :
Be it or no, he shall not linger here.
Exeunt Nobiles.
Edw. :
How fast they run to banish him I love,
They would not stir, were it to do me good:
Why should a king be subject to a priest?
Proud Rome, that hatchest such imperial grooms,
For these thy superstitious taperlights,
Wherewith thy antichristian churches blaze,
I will fire thy crazed buildings, and enforce
The papal towers, to kiss the lowly ground,
With slaughtered priests may Tibers channel swell
And banks raised higher with their sepulchres:
As for the peers that back the clergy thus,
If I be king, not one of them shall live.
Enter Gaueston.
Gau. :
My lord I hear it whispered
every where,
That I am banished, and must fly the land.
Edw. :
It is true sweet Gaueston,
O were it false,
The Legate of the Pope will have it so,
And thou must hence, or I shall be deposed,
But I will reign to be revenged of them,
And therefore sweet friend, take it patiently,
Live where thou wilt,
I will send thee gold enough,
And long thou shalt not stay, or if thou dost,
I will come to thee, my
love shall never decline.
Gave. :
Is all my hope turned to this hell of grief.
Edw. :
Rend not my heart with thy too piercing words
Thou from this land, I from myself am banished.
Gau. :
To go from hence, grieves not poor Gaueston,
But to forsake you, in whose gracious looks
The blessedness of Gaueston remains,
For no where else seeks he felicity.
Edw. :
And only this torments my wretched soul,
That whether I will or no thou must depart:
Be governor of Ireland in my stead,
And there abide till fortune call thee home.
Here take my picture, and let me wear thine,
O might I keep thee here, as I
do this,
Happy were I, but now most miserable.
Gavest:
It is something to be pitied of a king.
Edw. :
Thou shalt not hence, I will
hide thee Gaueston.
Gau. :
I shall be found, and then
it will grieve me more.
Edwa. :
Kind words, and mutual talk, makes
our grief greater.
Therefore with dumb embracement let us part,
Stay Gaueston I cannot leave thee thus.
Gau. :
For every look, my lord
drops down a tear,
Seeing I must go, do not renew my sorrow.
Edwa. :
The time is little that thou hast to stay,
And therefore give me leave to
look my fill,
But come sweet friend, I will bear thee on thy way.
Gau. :
The peers will frown.
Edw. :
I pass not for their anger, come let us go,
O that we might as well return as go.
Enter Edmund and Queen Isabell.
Qu. :
Whether goes my lord?
Edw. :
Fawn not on me French strumpet, get thee gone.
Qu. :
On whom but on my husband should I fawn?
Gau. :
On Mortimer, with whom ungentle Queen,
I say no more, judge you the rest my lord.
Qu. :
In saying this, thou wrongest me Gaueston,
Is it not enough, that thou corrupts my lord,
And art a bawd to his affections,
But thou must call mine honour thus in question?
Gau. :
I mean not so, your grace must pardon me.
Edw. :
Thou art too familiar with that Mortimer,
And by thy means is Gaueston exiled,
But I would wish thee reconcile the lords,
Or thou shalt never be reconciled to me.
Qu. :
Your highness knows, it lies not in my power.
Edw. :
Away then, touch me not, come Gaueston.
Qu. :
Villain, it is thou that robbest me of my lord.
Gau. :
Madam, it is you that rob me of my lord.
Edw. :
Speak not unto
her, let her droop and pine.
Qu. :
Wherein my lord, have I deserved these words?
Witness the tears that Isabella sheds,
Witness this heart, that sighing for thee breaks,
How dear my lord is to poor Isabell.
Edw. :
And witness heaven how dear thou art to me.
There weep, for till my Gaueston be repealed,
Assure thy self thou comest not in my sight.
Exeunt Edward and Gaueston.
Qu. :
O miserable and distressed Queen!
Would when I left sweet France and was embarked,
That charming Circes walking on the waves,
Had changed my shape, or at the marriage day
The cup of Hymen had
been full of poison,
Or with those arms that twinned about my neck,
I had been stifled, and not lived to see,
The king my lord thus to abandon me:
Like frantic Juno will I fill the earth,
With ghastly murmur of my sighs and cries,
For never doted
Jove on Ganimed,
So much as he on cursed Gaueston,
But that will more exasperate his wrath,
I must entreat him, I must speak
him fair,
And be a means to call home Gaueston:
And yet he will ever dote
on Gaueston,
And so am I for ever miserable.
Enter the Nobles to the Queen.
Lanc. :
look where the sister of the king of France,
Sits wringing of her hands, and beats her breast.
Warw. :
The king I fear hath ill entreated her.
Pen. :
Hard is the heart, that injures such a saint.
Mor. iu. :
I know it is long of
Gaueston she weeps.
Mor. se. :
Why? he is gone.
Mor. iu. :
Madam, how fares your grace?
Qu. :
Ah Mortimer! now breaks the kings hate forth,
And he confesseth that he loves me not.
Mor. iu. :
Cry quittance Madam then, and love not him.
Qu. :
No, rather will I die a thousand deaths,
And yet I love in vain,
he will never love me.
Lan. :
Fear ye not Madam, now his minion is gone,
His wanton humour will be quickly left.
Qu. :
O never Lancaster! I am enjoined,
To sue unto you all for his repeal:
This wills my lord, and this must I perform,
Or else be banished from his highness presence.
Lan. :
For his repeal, Madam, he comes not back,
Unless the sea cast up his shipwreck body.
War. :
And to behold so sweet a sight as that,
There is none here, but would
run his horse to death.
Mor. iu. :
But madam, would you have us call him home?
Qu. :
Aye Mortimer,
for till he be restored,
The angry king hath banished me the court:
And therefore as thou lovest and tenderest me,
Be thou my advocate unto these peers.
Mor. iu. :
What, would ye have me
plead for Gaueston?
Mor. se. :
Plead for him he that will, I am resolved.
Lan. :
And so am I my lord, dissuade the Queen.
Qu. :
O Lancaster, let him dissuade the king,
For it is against my will he should return.
War. :
Then speak not for him, let the peasant go.
Qu. :
It is for myself
I speak, and not for him.
Pen. :
No speaking will prevail, and therefore cease.
Mor. iu. :
Fair Queen forbear to angle for the fish,
Which being caught, strikes him that takes it dead,
I mean that vile Torpedo, Gaueston,
That now I hope floats on the Irish seas.
Qu. :
Sweet Mortimer, sit down by me a while,
And I will tell thee reasons of such weight,
As thou wilt soon subscribe to his repeal.
Mor. iu. :
It is impossible, but speak your mind.
Qu. :
Then thus, but none shall hear it
but ourselves.
Lanc. :
My Lords albeit the Queen win Mortimer,
will you be resolute and hold with me?
Mor. se. :
Not I against my nephew.
Pen. :
Fear not, the queens words cannot alter him.
War. :
No, do but mark how earnestly she pleads.
Lan. :
And see how coldly his looks make denial.
War. :
She smiles, now for my life his mind is changed.
Lanc. :
I will rather lose his friendship I,
than grant.
Mor. iu. :
Well of necessity it must be so,
My Lords, that I abhor base Gaueston,
I hope your honours make no question,
And therefore though I plead for his repeal,
It is not for his sake,
but for our avail:
Nay for the realms behoof and for the kings.
Lanc. :
Fie Mortimer, dishonour not
thyself,
Can this be true it was good to banish him?
And is this true to call him home again?
Such reasons make white black, and dark night day.
Mor. iu. :
My Lord of Lancaster, mark the respect.
Lan. :
In no respect can contraries be true.
Qu. :
Yet good my lord, hear what he can allege.
War. :
All that he speaks, is nothing, we are resolved.
Mor. iu. :
Do you not wish that Gaueston were dead?
Pen. :
I would he were.
Mor. iu. :
Why then my lord, give me but leave to speak.
Mor. se. :
But nephew, do not play the sophister.
Mor. iu. :
This which I urge, is of a burning zeal,
To mend the king, and do our country good:
Know you not Gaueston hath store of gold,
Which may in Ireland purchase him such friends,
As he will front the mightiest of us all,
And whereas he shall live and be beloved,
It is hard for us
to work his overthrow.
War. :
Mark you but that my lord of Lancaster.
Mor. iu. :
But were he here, detested as he is,
How easily might some base slave be suborned,
To greet his lordship with a poniard,
And none so much as blame the murtherer,
But rather praise him for that brave attempt,
And in the Chronicle, enrol his name,
For purging of the realm of such a plague.
Pen. :
He saith true.
Lan. :
aye, but how chance this was not done before?
Mor. iu. :
Because my lords, it was not thought upon:
Nay more, when he shall know it lies in us,
To banish him, and then to call him home,
It will make him veil the topflag of his pride,
And fear to offend the meanest noble man.
Mor. se. :
But how if he do not Nephew?
Mor. iu. :
Then may we with some colour rise in arms,
For howsoever we have borne it out,
It is treason to be
up against the king,
So shall we have the people of our side,
Which for his fathers sake lean to the king,
But cannot brook a night grown mushrump,
Such a one as my Lord of Cornewall is,
Should bear us down of the nobility,
And when the commons and the nobles join,
It is not the king can
buckler Gaueston.
We will pull him from the strongest hold he hath,
My lords, if to perform this I be slack,
think me as base a groom as
Gaueston.
Lan. :
On that condition Lancaster will grant.
War. :
And so will Penbrooke and I.
Mor. se. :
And I.
Mor. iu. :
In this I count me highly gratified,
And Mortimer will rest at your command.
Qu. :
And when this favour Isabell forgets,
Then let her live abandoned and forlorn,
But see in happy time, my lord the king,
Having brought the Earl of Cornewall on his way,
Is new returned, this news will glad him much,
Yet not so much as me, I love him more
Than he can
Gaueston, would he loved me
But half so much, then were I treble blessed.
Enter king Edward moorning.
Edw. :
He is gone, and for his absence thus I mourn,
Did never sorrow go so near my heart,
As doth the want of my sweet
Gaueston,
And could my crowns revenue bring him back,
I would freely give it to his enemies,
And think I gained, having bought so dear a friend.
Qu. :
Hark how he harps upon his minion.
Edw. :
My heart is as an anvil unto sorrow,
Which beats upon it like the Cyclops hammers,
And with the noise turns up my giddy brain,
And makes me frantic for my Gaueston:
Ah had some bloodless fury rose from hell,
And with my kingly sceptre stroke me dead,
When I was forced to leave my Gaueston.
Lan. :
Diablo, what passions call you these
Qu. :
My gracious lord, I come to bring you news.
Edw. :
That you have parleyed with
your Mortimer.
Qu. :
That Gaueston my Lord
shall be repealed.
Edw. :
Repealed, the news is too sweet to be true.
Qu. :
But will you love me, if you find it so?
Edw. :
If it be so, what will not Edward do?
Qu. :
For Gaueston, but not
for Isabell.
Edw. :
For thee fair Queen, if thou
lovest Gaueston,
I will hang a golden tongue about thy neck,
Seeing thou hast pleaded with so good success.
Qu. :
No other jewels hang about my neck
than these my lord, nor let
me have more wealth,
than I may fetch from this rich treasury:
O how a kiss revives poor Isabell.
Edw. :
Once more receive my hand, and let this be,
A second marriage twixt thyself and me.
Qu. :
And may it prove more happy than the first,
My gentle lord, bespeak these nobles fair,
That wait attendance for a gracious look,
And on their knees salute your majesty.
Edw. :
Courageous Lancaster, embrace thy king,
And as gross vapours perish by the sun,
Even so let hatred with thy sovereign smile,
Live thou with me as my companion.
Lan. :
This salutation overjoys my heart.
Edw. :
Warwick, shall be my chiefest counsellor:
These silver hairs will more adorn my court,
Than gaudy silks, or rich embroidery,
Chide me sweet Warwick, if I go astray.
War. :
Slay me my lord, when I offend your grace.
Edw. :
In solemn triumphs, and in public shows,
Penbrooke shall bear the sword before the king.
Pen. :
And with this sword, Penbrooke
will fight for you.
Edw. :
But wherefore walks young Mortimer aside?
Be thou commander of our royal fleet,
Or if that lofty office like thee not,
I make thee here lord Marshall of the realm.
Mor. iu. :
My lord, I will marshall so your enemies,
As England shall be quiet, and you safe.
Edw. :
And as for you, lord Mortimer of Chirke,
Whose great achievements in our foreign war,
Deserves no common place, nor mean reward:
Be you the general of the levied troops,
That now are ready to assail the Scots.
Mor. se. :
In this your grace hath highly honoured me,
For with my nature war doth best agree.
Qu. :
Now is the king of England rich and strong.
Having the love of his renowned peers.
Edw. :
Aye Isabell,
never was my heart so light,
Clarke of the crown, direct our warrant forth,
For Gaueston to Ireland:
Beamont fly,
As fast as Iris, or
Jove's Mercury.
Beam. :
It shall be done my gracious Lord.
Edw. :
Lord Mortimer, we leave you to your charge.
Now let us in, and feast it royally:
Against our friend the earl of Cornewall comes,
We will have
a general tilt and tournament,
And then his marriage shall be solemnised,
For wot you not that I have made him sure,
Unto our cousin, the earl of Glosters heir.
Lan. :
Such news we hear my lord.
Edw. :
That day, if not for him. yet for my sake,
Who in the triumph will be challenger,
Spare for no cost, we will
requite your love.
Warwick. :
In this, or ought, your highness shall command
us.
Edward. :
Thanks gentle Warwick, come let us in and revel.
Exeunt.
Manent Mortimers.
Mor. se. :
Nephew, I must to Scotland, thou stayest here,
Leave now to oppose thyself against the king,
Thou seest by nature he is mild and calm,
And seeing his mind so dotes on Gaueston,
Let him without controlment have his will,
The mightiest kings have had their minions,
Great Alexander loved Ephestion,
The conquering Hector,
for Hilas wept,
And for Patroclus stern
Achillis drooped,
And not kings only, but the wisest men,
The Roman Tullie loved
Octauis,
Grave Socrates, wild
Alcibiades:
Then let his grace, whose youth is flexible,
And promiseth as much as we can wish,
Freely enjoy that vain light-headed earl,
For riper years will wean him from such toys.
Mor. iu. :
Uncle, his wanton humour grieves not me,
But this I scorn, that one so basely born,
Should by his sovereigns favour grow so pert,
And riot it with the treasure of the realm,
While soldiers mutiny for want of pay,
He wears a lords revenue on his back,
And Midas like he jets it in the court,
With base outlandish cullions at his heels,
Whose proud fantastic liveries make such show,
As if that Proteus god of shapes appeared,
I have not seen a dapper lack so brisk,
He wears a short Italian hooded cloak,
Larded with pearl, and in his Tuscan cap
A jewel of more value than the crown,
Whiles other walk below, the king and he
From out a window, laugh at such as we,
And flout our train, and jest at our attire:
Uncle, it is this that makes me impatient.
Mor. se. :
But nephew, now you see the king is changed.
Mor. iu. :
Then so am I, and live to do him service,
But whiles I have a sword, a hand, a heart,
I will not yield to any such upstart.
You know my mind, come uncle let us away.
Exeunt.
Enter Spencer and Balduck.
Bald. :
Spencer, seeing that our Lord
the earle of Gloster is dead,
Which of the nobles dost thou mean to serve?
Spen. :
Not Mortimer, nor any of his side,
Because the king and he are enemies,
Baldock: learn this of me, a factious lord
Shall hardly do himself
good, much less us,
But he that hath the favour of a king,
May with one word, advance us while we live:
The liberal earl of Cornewall is the man,
On whose good fortune Spencers hope depends.
Bald. :
What, mean you then to be his follower?
Spen. :
No, his companion, for he loves me well,
And would have once preferred me to the king.
Bald. :
But he is banished, there is small hope of him.
Spen. :
aye for a while, but
Baldock mark the end,
A friend of mine told me in secrecy,
That he is repealed,
and sent for back again,
And even now, a post came from the court,
With letters to our lady from the King,
And as she red, she smiled, which makes me think,
It is about her lover Gaueston.
Bald. :
It is like enough, for since he was exiled,
She neither walks abroad, nor comes in sight:
But I had thought the match had been broke off,
And that his banishment had changed her mind.
Spen. :
Our Ladies first love is not wavering,
My life for thine she will have Gaueston.
Bald. :
Then hope I by her means to be preferred,
Having read unto her since she was a child.
Spen. :
Then Balduck, you must cast the scholar off,
And learn to court it like a Gentleman,
It is not a black coat and a little band,
A Velvet capped cloak, facest before with Serge,
And smelling to a Nosegay all the day,
Or holding of a napkin in your hand,
Or saying a long grace at a tables end,
Or making low legs to a noble man,
Or looking downward, with your eye lids close,
And saying, truly ant may please your honour,
Can get you any favour with great men,
You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute,
And now and then, stab as occasion serves.
Bald. :
Spencer, thou knowest I hate such formal toys,
And use them but of mere hypocrisy.
Mine old lord whiles he lived, was so precise,
That he would take exceptions at my buttons,
And being like pins heads, blame me for the bigness,
Which made me curate-like in mine attire,
Though inwardly licentious enough,
And apt for any kind of villainy.
I am none of these common pendants I,
That cannot speak without
Spen. :
But one of those that saith
And hath a special gift to form a verb.
Bald. :
Leave of this jesting, here my lady comes.
Enter the Lady.
Lady. :
The grief for his exile was not so much,
As is the joy of his returning home,
This letter came from my sweet Gaueston,
What needst thou love, thus
to excuse thyself?
I know thou couldst not come and visit me,
I will not long be from thee though I die:
This argues the entire love of my Lord,
When I forsake thee, death seize on my heart,
But rest thee here where Gaueston shall sleep.
Now to the letter of my Lord the King,
He wills me to repair unto the court,
And meet my Gaueston: why do I stay,
Seeing that he talks thus of my marriage day?
who is there,
Balduck?
See that my coach be ready, I must hence.
Bald. :
It shall be done madam.
Exit.
Lad. :
And meet me at the park pale presently:
Spencer, stay you and bear me company,
For I have joyful news to tell thee of,
My lord of Cornewall is a coming over,
And will be at the court as soon as we.
Spen. :
I knew the King would have
him home again.
Lad. :
If all things sort out, as I hope they will,
Thy service Spencer shall be thought upon.
Spen. :
I humbly thank your Ladyship.
Lad. :
Come lead the way, I long till I am there.
Enter Edward, the Queen, Lancaster, Mortimer,
Warwicke, Penbrooke, Kent, attendants.
Edw. :
The wind is good, I wonder why he stays,
I fear me he is wracked upon the sea.
Queen. :
Look
Lancaster how passionate he is,
And still his mind runs on his minion.
Lan. :
My Lord.
Edw. :
How now, what news, is Gaueston arrived?
Mor. i. :
Nothing but Gaueston, what means your grace?
You have matters of more weight to
think upon,
The King of France sets foot in Normandy.
Edw. :
A trifle, we will expel him when we please:
But tell me Mortimer,
what is thy devise,
Against the stately triumph we decreed?
Mor. :
A homely one my lord, not worth the telling.
Edw. :
prithee let me know it.
Mor. iu. :
But seeing you are so desirous, thus it is:
A lofty Cedar tree fair flourishing,
On whose top-branches Kingly Eagles perch,
And by the bark a canker creeps me up,
And gets unto the highest bough of all,
The motto:
Edw. :
And what is yours my lord of Lancaster?
Lan. :
My lord, mine is more obscure
than Mortimers,
Plinie reports, there is a flying Fish,
Which all the other fishes deadly hate,
And therefore being pursued, it takes the air:
No sooner is it up,
but there is a foul,
That seizeth it: this fish my lord I bear,
The motto this:
Edw. :
Proud Mortimer,
ungentle Lancaster,
Is this the love you bear your sovereign?
Is this the fruit your reconcilement bears?
Can you in words make show of amity,
And in your shields display your rancorous minds?
What call you this but private libelling,
Against the Earl of Cornewall and my brother?
Qu. :
Sweet husband be content, they all love you.
Edw. :
They love me not that hate
my Gaueston,
I am that Cedar, shake me not too much,
And you the Eagles, sore ye never so high,
I have the gresses that will
pull you down,
And
shall that canker cry,
Unto the proudest peer of Britanie:
Though thou comparest him to a flying Fish,
And threatenest death whether he rise or fall,
It is not the hugest monster of the sea,
Nor foulest Harpy that shall swallow him.
Mor. iu. :
If in his absence thus he favours him,
What will he do when as he shall be present?
Lan. :
That shall we see,
look where his lordship comes.
Enter Gaueston.
Edw. :
My Gaueston, welcome to
Tinmouth, welcome to thy friend,
Thy absence made me droop, and pine away,
For as the lovers of fair
Danae,
When she was locked up in a brazen tower,
Desired her more, and waxed outrageous,
So did it sure with me: and now thy sight
Is sweeter far, than was thy parting hence
Bitter and irksome to my sobbing heart.
Gau. :
Sweet Lord and King, your speech preventeth mine,
Yet have I words left to express my joy:
The shepherd nipped with biting winters rage,
Frolics not more to see the painted spring,
than I do
to behold your Majesty.
Edw. :
Will none of you salute my Gaueston?
Lan. :
Salute him? yes welcome Lord Chamberlain.
Mor. iu. :
Welcome is the good Earl of Cornewall
War. :
Welcome Lord governor of the Isle of man.
Pen. :
Welcome master secretary.
Edm. :
Brother do you hear them?
Edw. :
Still will these Earls and Barons use me thus?
Gau. :
My Lord I cannot brook these injuries.
Qu. :
Aye me poor soul when these begin to jar.
Edw. :
Return it to their throats, I will be thy warrant.
Gau. :
Base leaden Earls that glory in your birth,
Go sit at home and eat your tenants beef:
And come not here to scoff at Gaueston,
Whose mounting thoughts did never creep so low,
As to bestow a look on such as you.
Lan. :
Yet I disdain not to do this for you.
Edw. :
Treason, treason: where is the traitor?
Pen. :
Here here King: convey hence
Gaueston, they will murder him.
Gau. :
The life of thee shall salve this foul disgrace.
Mor. iu. :
Villain thy life, unless I miss mine aim.
Qu. :
Ah furious Mortimer what hast thou done?
Mor. :
No more than I would answer were he slain.
Ed. :
Yes more than thou canst answer
though he live,
Dear shall you both abye this riotous deed:
Out of my presence, come not near the court.
Mor. iu. :
I will not be barred the
court for Gaueston.
Lan. :
We will hail him by
the ears unto the block.
Edw. :
Look to your own heads, his is sure enough.
War. :
Look to your own crown, if you back him thus.
Edm. :
Warwicke, these words do ill beseem thy years.
Edw. :
Nay all of them conspire to cross me thus,
But if I live, I will tread
upon their heads,
That think with high
looks thus to tread me down,
Come Edmund let us away, and levy men,
It is war that must abate these Barons pride.
Exit the King.
War. :
Let us to our castles,
for the king is moved.
Mor. iu. :
Moved may he be, and perish in his wrath.
Lan. :
Cousin it is no dealing with him now,
He means to make us stoop by force of arms,
And therefore let us jointly here protest,
To prosecute that Gaueston to the death.
Mor. iu. :
By heaven, the abject villain shall not live.
War. :
I will have his blood, or die in seeking it.
Pen. :
The like oath Penbrooke takes.
Lan. :
And so doth Lancaster:
Now send our Heralds to defy the King,
And make the people swear to put him down.
Enter a Post.
Mor. iu. :
Letters, from whence?
Messen. :
From Scotland my lord.
Lan. :
Why how now cousin, how fares all our friends?
Mor. iu. :
My uncle is taken prisoner by the Scots.
Lan. :
We will have him
ransomed man, be of good cheer.
Mor. :
They rate his ransom at five thousand pound,
Who should defray the money, but the King,
Seeing he is taken prisoner in his wars?
I will to the King.
Lan. :
Do cousin, and I will bear thee company.
War. :
Mean time my lord of Penbrooke and
myself,
Will to Newcastle here, and gather head.
Mor. iu. :
About it then, and we will follow you.
Lan. :
Be resolute, and full of secrecy.
War. :
I warrant you.
Mor. iu. :
Cousin, and if he will not ransom him,
I will thunder such a peal into his ears,
As never subject did
unto his King.
Lan. :
Content, I will bear my part,
holla who is there?
Mor. iu. :
Aye marry, such a guard as this
doth well.
Lan. :
Lead on the way.
Guard. :
Whither will your lordships?
Mor. iu. :
Whither else but to the King.
Guar. :
His highness is disposed to be alone.
Lan. :
Why, so he may, but we will speak to him.
Guard. :
You may not in my lord.
Mor. iu. :
May we not.
Edw. :
How now, what noise is this?
Who have we there,
is it you?
Mor. :
Nay, stay my lord, I come to bring you news,
Mine uncle is taken prisoner by the Scots.
Edw. :
Then ransom him.
Lan. :
It was in your wars, you should ransom him.
Mor. iu. :
And you shall ransom him, or else.
Edm. :
What Mortimer, you will not threaten him?
Edw. :
Quiet yourself, you shall
have the broad seal,
To gather for him throughout the realm.
Lan. :
Your minion Gaueston hath taught you this.
Mor. iu. :
My lord, the family of the Mortimers
Are not so poor, but would they sell their land,
Would levy men enough to anger you,
We never beg, but use such prayers as these.
Edw. :
Shall I still be haunted thus?
Mor. iu. :
Nay, now you are here alone,
I will speak my mind.
Lan. :
And so will I, and then my lord farewell.
Mor. :
The idle triumphs, masks, lascivious shows
And prodigal gifts bestowed on Gaueston,
Have drawn thy treasure dry, and made thee weak,
The murmuring commons overstretched hath.
Lan. :
Look for rebellion,
look to be deposed,
Thy garrisons are beaten out of France,
And lame and poor, lie groaning at the gates,
The wild O'Neill, with swarms of Irish Kerns,
Lives uncontrolled within the English pale,
Unto the walls of York the Scots made rode,
And unresisted, drave away rich spoils.
Mor. iu. :
The haughty Dane commands the narrow seas,
While in the harbour ride thy ships unrigged.
Lan. :
What foreign prince sends thee ambassadors?
Mor. :
Who loves thee? but a sort of flatterers.
Lan. :
Thy gentle Queen, sole sister to Valoys,
Complains, that thou hast left her all forlorn.
Mor. :
Thy court is naked, being bereft of those,
That makes a king seem glorious to the world,
I mean the peers, whom thou shouldest dearly love:
Libels are cast against thee in the street,
Ballads and rhymes, made of thy overthrow.
Lan. :
The Northern borderers seeing the houses burnt
Their wives and children slain, run up and down,
Cursing the name of thee and Gaueston.
Mor. :
When wert thou in the field with banner spread?
But once, and then thy soldiers marched like players,
With garish robes, not armour, and thyself
Bedaubed with gold, rode laughing at the rest,
Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest,
Where women's favours hung like labels down.
Lan. :
And thereof came it, that the fleering Scots,
To England's high disgrace, have made this Jig,
Maids of England, sore may you mourn,
For your lemans you have lost, at Bannocksborne,
With a heave and a ho,
What weaneth the king of England,
So soon to have won Scotland,
With a rumbelow.
Mor. :
Wigmore shall fly, to set my uncle free.
Lan. :
And when it is gone, our swords shall purchase more,
If ye be moved, revenge it as you can,
Look next to see us with our ensigns spread.
Exeunt Nobiles.
Edwa. :
My swelling heart for very anger breaks,
How oft have I been baited by these peers?
And dare not be revenged, for their power is great:
Yet, shall the crowing of these cockerels,
Affright a Lion? Edward, unfold thy paws,
And let their lives blood slake thy furies hunger:
If I be cruel, and grow tyrannous,
Now let them thank themselves, and rue too late.
Kent. :
My lord, I see your love
to Gaueston,
Will be the ruin of the realm and you,
For now the wrathful nobles threaten wars,
And therefore brother banish him for ever.
Edw. :
Art thou an enemy to my Gaueston?
Kent. :
Aye, and it grieves me that I favoured him.
Edw. :
Traitor be gone, whine thou with Mortimer.
Kent. :
So will I, rather than
with Gaueston.
Edw. :
Out of my sight, and trouble me no more.
Kent. :
No marvel though thou scorn thy noble peers,
When I thy brother am rejected thus.
Exit.
Edw. :
Away poor Gaueston, that hast no friend but me,
Do what they can, we will live in Tinmoth here,
And so I walk with him about the walls,
What care I though the Earls begirt
us round,
here comes she that is cause of all these jars.
Enter the Queen, Ladies 3, Baldock, and Spencer.
Qu. :
My lord, it is thought, the Earls are
up in arms.
Edw. :
Aye, and it is
likewise thought you favour him.
Qu. :
Thus do you still suspect me without cause.
Lad. :
Sweet uncle speak more kindly to the queen.
Gau. :
My lord, dissemble with her, speak her fair.
Edw. :
Pardon me sweet, I forgot myself.
Qu. :
Your pardon is quickly got of Isabell.
Edw. :
The younger Mortimer is grown so brave,
That to my face he threatens civil wars.
Gau. :
Why do you not commit him to the tower?
Edw. :
I dare not, for the people love him well.
Gau. :
Why then we will have him privily made away.
Edw. :
Would Lancaster and he had both caroused,
A bowl of poison to each others health:
But let them go, and tell me what are these.
Lad. :
Two of my fathers servants whilst he lived,
May it please your grace to entertain them now.
Edw. :
Tell me, where wast thou born?
What is thine arms?
Bald. :
My name is Baldock, and my gentry
I fetched from Oxford, not from Heraldry.
Edw. :
The fitter art thou Baldock for my turn,
Wait on me, and I will see thou shalt not want.
Bald. :
I humbly thank your majesty.
Edw. :
Knowest thou him Gaueston?
Gau. :
aye my lord, his name is
Spencer, he is well allied,
For my sake let him wait upon your grace,
Scarce shall you find a man of more desert.
Edw. :
Then Spencer wait upon me, for his sake
I will grace thee with a higher style ere long.
Spen. :
No greater titles happen unto me,
than to be favoured of your majesty.
Edw. :
Cousin, this day shall be your marriage feast,
And Gaueston, think that
I love thee well,
To wed thee to our niece, the only heir
UNto the Earl of Gloster late deceased.
Gau. :
I know my lord, many will stomach me,
But I respect neither their Love nor hate.
Edw. :
The headstrong Barons shall not limit me.
He that I list to favour shall be great:
Come let us away, and when the marriage ends,
Have at the rebels, and their complices.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Lancaster, Mortimer, Warwick, Penbrooke, Kent.
Kent. :
My lords, of love to this our native land,
I come to join with you, and leave the king,
And in your quarrel and the realms behoof,
Will be the first that shall adventure life.
Lan. :
I fear me you are sent of policy,
To undermine us with a
show of love.
Warw. :
He is your brother, therefore have we cause
To cast the worst, and doubt of your revolt.
Edm. :
Mine honour shall be hostage of my truth,
If that will not suffice, farewell my lords.
Mor. iu. :
Stay Edmund, never was Plantagenet
False of his word, and therefore trust we thee.
Pen. :
But what is the reason you should leave him now?
Kent. :
I have informed the Earl of Lancaster.
Lan. :
And it sufficeth: now my lords know this,
That Gaueston is secretly arrived,
And here in Tinmoth frolics with the king,
Let us with these our
followers scale the walls,
And suddenly surprise them unawares.
Mor. iu. :
I will give the onset.
War. :
And I will follow thee.
Mor. iu. :
This tottered ensign of my ancestors,
Which swept the desert shore of that dead sea,
Whereof we got the name of Mortimer,
Will I advance upon this castle walls,
Drums strike alarum, raise them from their sport,
And ring aloud the knell of Gaueston.
Lanc. :
None be so hardy as to touch the King,
But neither spare you Gaueston, nor his friends.
Exeunt.
Enter the king and Spencer, to them Gaueston,
Edw. :
O tell me Spencer, where is
Gaueston?
Spen. :
I fear me he is slain my gracious lord.
Edw. :
No, here he comes, now let them spoil and kill:
Fly, fly, my lords, the earls have got the hold,
Take shipping and away to Scarborough,
Spencer and I will post away by land.
Gau. :
O stay my lord, they will not injure you.
Edw. :
I will not trust them, Gaueston away.
Gau. :
Farewell my Lord.
Edw. :
Lady, farewell.
Lad. :
Farewell sweet uncle till we meet again.
Edw. :
Farewell sweet Gaueston, and farewell Niece.
Qu. :
No farewell, to poor Isabell, thy Queen?
Edw. :
Yes, yes, for Mortimer your lovers sake.
Exeunt omnes, manet Isabella.
Qu. :
Heavens can witness, I love none but you,
From my embracements thus he breaks away,
O that mine arms could close this Isle about,
That I might pull him to me where I would,
Or that these tears that drizzle from mine eyes,
Had power to mollify his stony heart,
That when I had him we might never part.
Enter the Barons alarums.
Lan. :
I wonder how he scaped.
Mor. iu. :
Who is this, the Queen?
Qu. :
aye Mortimer, the miserable Queen,
Whose pining heart, her inward sighs have blasted,
And body with continual morning wasted:
These hands are tired, with haling of my lord
From Gaueston, from wicked
Gaueston,
And all in vain, for when I speak him fair,
He turns away, and smiles upon his minion.
Mor. iu. :
Cease to lament, and tell us where is the king?
Qu. :
What would you with the king, is it him you seek?
Lan. :
No madam, but that cursed Gaueston,
Far be it from the thought of Lancaster,
To offer violence to his sovereign,
We would but rid the realm of Gaueston,
Tell us where he remains, and he shall die.
Qu. :
He has gone by water
unto Scarborough,
Pursue him quickly, and he cannot scape,
The king hath left him, and his train is small.
War. :
Foreslow no time, sweet Lancaster let us march.
Mor. :
How comes it, that the king and he is parted?
Qu. :
That this your army going several ways,
Might be of lesser source, and with the power
That he intendeth presently to raise,
Be easily suppressed: and therefore be gone.
Mor. :
Here in the river rides a Flemish hoy,
Let us all aboard, and follow him amain.
Lan. :
The wind that bears him hence, will fill our sails,
Come, come aboard, it is but an hours sailing.
Mor. :
Madam, stay you within this castle here.
Qu. :
No Mortimer, I will to my lord the king.
Mor. :
Nay, rather sail with us to Scarborough.
Qu. :
You know the king is so suspicious,
As if he hear I
have but talked with you,
Mine honour will be called in question,
And therefore gentle Mortimer be gone.
Mor. :
Madam, I cannot stay to answer you,
But think of Mortimer
as he deserves.
Qu. :
So well hast thou deserved sweet Mortimer,
As Isaebell could live with
thee for ever,
In vain I look
for love at Edwards hand,
Whose eyes are fixed on none but Gaueston:
Yet once more I will importune him with prayers,
If he be strange and not regard my words,
My son and I will
over into France,
And to the king my brother there complain,
How Gaueston hath robbed me of his
love:
But yet I hope my sorrows will have end,
And Gaueston this blessed day be slain.
Exeunt.
Enter Gaueston pursued.
Gau. :
Yet lusty lords I have escaped your hands,
Your threats, your larums, and your hot pursuits,
And though divorced from king Edwards eyes,
Yet liveth Pierce of
Gaueston unsurprised,
Breathing, in hope ( malgrado all your beards,
That muster rebels thus against your king)
To see his royal sovereign once again.
Enter the Nobles.
War. :
Upon him soldiers, take away his weapons.
Mor. :
Thou proud disturber of thy countries peace,
Corrupter of thy king, cause of these broils,
Base flatterer, yield, and were it not for shame,
Shame and dishonour to a soldiers name,
Upon my weapons point here shouldest thou fall,
And welter in thy gore.
Lan. :
Monster of men, that like the Greekish strumpet
Trained to arms and bloody wars,
So many valiant knights,
Look for no other
fortune wretch than death,
Kind Edward is not here to buckler thee.
War. :
Lancaster, why talkest thou to the slave?
Go soldiers take him hence,
For by my sword, his head shall off:
Gaueston, short warning shall serve thy turn:
It is our countries cause,
That here severally we will execute,
Upon thy person: hang him at a bough:
Gau. :
My Lord.
War. :
Soldiers, have him away:
But for thou wert the favourite of a King,
Thou shalt have so much honour at our hands.
Gau. :
I thank you all my lords, then I perceive,
That heading is one, and hanging is the other,
And death is all.
Enter earl of Arundell.
Lan. :
How now my lord of Arundell?
Arun. :
My lords, king Edward greets you all by me.
War. :
Arundell, say your message.
Aru. :
His majesty, hearing that you had taken Gaueston,
entreateth you by me, yet but he may
See him before he dies, for why he says,
And sends you word, he knows that die he shall,
And if you gratify his grace so far,
He will be mindful of the courtesy.
Warw. :
How now?
Gau. :
Renowned Edward, how thy name
Revives poor Gaueston.
War. :
No, it needeth not,
Arundell, we will gratify the king
In other matters, he must pardon us in this,
Soldiers away with him.
Gavest:
Why my Lord of Warwicke,
Will not these delays beget my hopes?
I know it lords, it is this life you aim at,
Yet grant king Edward this.
Mor. iu. :
Shalt thou appoint what we shall grant?
Soldiers away with him:
Thus we will gratify the king,
We will send his
head by thee, let him bestow
His tears on that, for that is all he gets
Of Gaueston, or else his senseless trunk.
Lan. :
Not so my Lord, least he bestow more cost,
In burying him, than
he hath ever earned.
Arun. :
My lords, it is his majesties request,
And in the honour of a king he swears,
He will but talk with him and
send him back.
War. :
When can you tell? Arundell no, we wot,
He that the care of realm remits,
And drives his nobles to these exigents
For Gaueston, will if he seize him once,
Violate any promise to possess him.
Arun. :
Then if you will not trust his grace in keep,
My lords, I will be pledge for his return.
Mor. iu. :
It is honourable in thee to offer this,
But for we know thou art a noble gentleman,
We will not wrong thee so,
To make away a true man for a thief.
Gave. :
How meanest thou Mortimer? that
is over base.
Mor. :
Away base groom, robber of kings renown,
Question with thy companions and thy mates.
Pen. :
My lord Mortimer, and you my lords each one,
To gratify the kings request therein,
Touching the sending of this Gaueston,
Because his majesty so earnestly
Desires to see the man before his death,
I will upon mine honour undertake
To carry him, and bring him back again,
Provided this, that you my lord of Arundell
Will join with me.
War. :
Penbrooke, what wilt thou do?
Cause yet more bloodshed: is it not enough
That we have taken him, but must we now
Leave him on had I wist, and let him go?
Pen. :
My lords, I will not over woo your honours,
But if you dare trust Penbrooke with the prisoner,
Upon mine oath I will return him back.
Arun. :
My lord of Lancaster, what say you in this?
Lan. :
Why I say, let him go on Penbrookes word.
Pen. :
And you lord Mortimer.
Mor. iu. :
How say you my lord of Warwick.
War. :
Nay, do your pleasures,
I know how it will prove.
Pen. :
Then give him me.
Gau. :
Sweet sovereign, yet I come
To see thee ere I die.
Warw. :
Yet not perhaps,
If Warwickes wit and policy prevail.
Mor. iu. :
My lord of Penbrooke, we deliver him you,
Return him on your honour, sound away.
Exeunt.
Manent Penbrooke, Mat. Gavest. and Penbrookes men, four
soldiers.
Pen. :
My Lord, you shall go with me,
My house is not far hence out of the way,
A little, but our men shall go along,
We that have
pretty wenches to our wives,
Sir, must not come so near and balk their lips.
Mat. :
It is very kindly spoke
my lord of Penbrooke,
Your honour hath an adamant of power,
To draw a prince.
Pen. :
So my lord, come hither Iames,
I do commit this Gaueston to thee,
Be thou this night his keeper, in the morning
We will discharge thee of thy charge, be
gone.
Gau. :
Unhappy Gaueston, whether goest thou now.
Exit cum seruis Pen.
Horse boy. :
My lord, we will
quickly be at Cobham.
Exeunt ambo.
Enter Gaueston moorning, and the earl of Penbrookes men.
Gave. :
O treacherous Warwicke thus to wrong thy friend!
Iames. :
I see it is your life these arms pursue.
Gau. :
Weaponless must I fall and die in bands,
O must this day be period of my life!
Centre of all my bliss, and ye be men,
Speed to the king.
Enter Warwicke and his company.
War. :
My lord of Penbrookes men,
Strive you no longer, I will have
that Gaueston.
Iam. :
Your lordship doth dishonour to yourself,
And wrong our lord, your honourable friend.
War. :
No Iames, it is my countries cause I follow,
go, take the villain, soldiers come away,
We will make quick work,
commend me to your master
My friend, and tell him that I watched it well,
Come, let thy shadow parley with king Edward.
Gau. :
Treacherous earl, shall I not see the king?
War. :
The king of heaven perhaps, no other king, Away.
Exeunt Warwike and his men, with Gavest.
Manet Iames cum caeteris.
Come fellows, it booted not for us to strive,
We will in haste go certify our Lord.
Exeunt.
Enter king Edward and Spencer, with Drums and Fifes.
Edw. :
I long to hear an answer from the Barons
Touching my friend, my dearest Gaueston,
Ah Spencer, not the riches of my realm
Can ransom him, ah he is marked to die,
I know the malice of the younger Mortimer,
Warwick I know is rough, and Lancaster
Inexorable, and I shall never see
My lovely Pierce, my
Gaueston again,
The Barons overbear me with their pride.
Spencer. :
Were I king Edward England's sovereign,
Son to the lovely
Elenor of Spain,
Great Edward Longshankes issue: would I bear
These braves, this rage, and suffer uncontrolled
These Barons thus to beard me in my land,
In mine own realm? my lord pardon my speech,
Did you retain your fathers magnanimity?
Did you regard the honour of your name?
You would not suffer thus your majesty
Be counterbuffed of your nobility,
Strike off their heads, and let them preach on poles,
No doubt, such lessons they will teach the rest,
As by their preachments they will profit much,
And learn obedience to their lawful king.
Edw. :
Yea gentle Spencer, we
have been too mild,
Too kind to them, but now have drawn our sword,
And if they send me not my Gaueston,
We will steel it on
their crest, and poll their tops.
Bald. :
This haught resolve becomes your majesty,
Not to be tied to their affection,
As though your highness were a school boy still,
And must be awed and governed like a child.
Enter Hugh Spencer an old man, father to the young Spencer,
with his truncheon, and soldiers.
Spen. pa. :
Long live my sovereign the noble
Edward,
In peace triumphant, fortunate in wars.
Edw. :
Welcome old man, comest thou in Edwards aide?
Then tell thy prince, of whence, and what thou art.
Spen. pa. :
Lo, with a band of bowmen and of pikes,
Browne bills, and targetiers, 400 strong,
Sworn to defend king Edwards royal right,
I come in person to your majesty,
Spencer, the father of Hugh Spencer there,
Bound to your highness everlastingly,
For favours done in him, unto us all.
Edw. :
Thy father Spencer?
Spen. filius. :
True, if it like your grace,
That powers in lieu of all your goodness shown,
His life my lord, before your princely feet.
Edw. :
Welcome ten thousand times, old man again,
Spencer, this love, this kindness to thy King,
Argues thy noble mind and disposition:
Spencer, I here create thee earl of Wilshire,
And daily will enrich thee with our favour,
That as the sunshine shall reflect over thee:
Beside, the more to manifest our love,
Because we hear Lord Bruse
doth sell his land,
And that the Mortimers are in hand withal,
Thou shalt have crowns of
us, to out bid the Barons,
And Spenser, spare them not, but lay it on.
Soldiers a largess, and thrice welcome all.
Spen. :
My lord, here comes the Queen.
Enter the Queen and her son, and Lewne a Frenchman.
Edw. :
Madam, what news?
Qu. :
News of dishonour lord, and discontent,
Our friend Lewne, faithful and full of trust,
Informeth us by letters and by words,
That lord Valoyes our brother, king of France,
Because your highness hath been slack in homage,
Hath seized Normandy into his hands,
These be the letters, this the messenger.
Edw. :
Welcome Lewne, tush
Sib, if this be all,
Valoys and I will soon be
friends again,
But to my Gaueston: shall
I never see,
Never behold thee now? Madam in this matter
We will employ you and your little son,
You shall go parley with the king of France,
Boy, see you bear you bravely to the king,
And do your message with a majesty.
Prin. :
Commit not to my youth things of more weigh
Than fits a prince so young as I to bear,
And fear not lord and father, heavens great beams
On Atlas shoulder, shall not lie more safe,
Than shall your charge committed to my trust.
Qu. :
ah boy, this towardness makes thy mother fear
Thou art not marked to many days on earth.
Edw. :
Madam, we will that you with speed be shipped,
And this our son,
Lewne shall follow you,
With all the haste we can dispatch him hence,
Choose of our lords to bear you company,
And go in peace, leave us in wars at home.
Qu. :
Unnatural wars, where subjects brave their king,
God end them once, my lord I take my leave,
To make my preparation for France.
Enter lord Matre.
Edw. :
What lord Matre. dost thou come alone?
Mat. :
Yea my good lord, for Gaueston is dead.
Edw. :
Ah traitors, have they put my friend to death,
Tell me Matre. died he ere thou camest,
Or didst thou see my friend to take his death?
Matr. :
Neither my lord, for as he was surprised,
Begirt with weapons, and with enemies round,
I did your highness message to them all,
Demanding him of them, entreating rather,
And said, upon the honour of my name,
That I would undertake to carry him
Unto your highness, and to bring him back.
Edw. :
And tell me, would the rebels deny me that?
Spen. :
Proud recreants.
Edw. :
Yea Spencer, traitors all.
Matr. :
I found them at the first inexorable,
The earl of Warwick would not bide the hearing,
Mortimer hardly, Penbrooke
and Lancaster
Spake least: and when they flatly had denied,
Refusing to receive me pledge for him,
The earl of Penbrooke mildly thus bespake.
My lords, because our sovereign sends for him,
And promiseth he shall be safe returned,
I will this undertake, to have him hence,
And see him redelivered to your hands.
Edw. :
Well, and how fortunes that he came not?
Spen. :
Some treason, or some villainy was cause.
Mat. :
The earl of Warwick seized him on his way,
For being delivered unto
Penbrookes men,
Their lord rode home, thinking his prisoner safe,
But ere he came, Warwick in ambush lay,
And bare him to his death, and in a trench
Strake off his head, and marched unto the camp.
Spen. :
A bloody part, flatly against law of arms.
Edw. :
O shall I speak, or shall I sigh and die!
Spen. :
My lord, refer your vengeance to the sword,
Upon these Barons, hearten
up your men,
Let them not unrevenged murther your friends,
Advance your standard Edward in the field,
And march to sire them from their starting holes.
Edward kneels, and saith.
By earth, the common mother of us all,
By heaven, and all the moving orbs thereof,
By this right hand, and by my fathers sword,
And all the honours longing to my crown,
I will have heads, and
lives for him as many,
As I have manors, castles, towns, and towers,
Treacherous Warwicke, traitorous
Mortimer:
If I be England's king, in lakes of gore
Your headless trunks, your bodies will I trail,
That you may drink your fill, and quaff in blood,
And stain my royal standard with the same,
That so my bloody colours may suggest
Remembrance of revenge immortally,
On your accursed traitorous progeny:
You villains that have
slain my Gaueston,
And in this place of honour and of trust,
Spencer, sweet Spencer,
I adopt thee here,
And merely of our love we do create thee
Earl of Gloster, and lord Chamberlain,
Despite of times, despite of enemies.
Spen. :
My lord, here is is a messenger from the Barons,
Desires access unto your majesty.
Edw. :
Admit him near.
Enter the Herald from the Barons, with his coat of arms.
Messen. :
Long live king Edward,
England's lawful lord.
Edw. :
So wish not they I wish that sent thee hither,
Thou comest from Mortimer and his complices,
A ranker route of rebels never was:
Well, say thy message.
Messen. :
The Barons up in arms, by me salute
Your highness, with long life and happiness,
And bid me say as plainer to your grace,
That if without effusion of blood,
You will this grief have ease and remedy,
That from your princely person you remove
This Spencer, as a putrefying branch,
That deads the royal vine, whose golden leaves
Impale your princely head, your diadem,
Whose brightness such pernicious upstarts dim,
Say they, and lovingly advise your grace,
To cherish virtue and nobility,
And have old servitors in high esteem,
And shake off smooth dissembling flatterers:
This granted, they, their honours, and their lives,
Are to your highness vowed and consecrate.
Spen. :
A traitors, will they still display their pride?
Edw. :
Away, tarry no answer, but be gone,
Rebels, will they appoint their sovereign
His sports, his pleasures, and his company:
Yet ere thou go, see how I do divorce
Embrace Spencer.
Spencer from me: now get thee to thy lords,
And tell them I will come to chastise them,
For murthering Gaueston: hie thee, get thee gone,
Edward with fire and sword, follows at thy heels,
My lord, perceive you how these rebels swell:
Soldiers, good hearts, defend your sovereigns right,
For now, even now,
we march to make them stoop,
Away.
Exeunt.
Alarums, excursions, a great fight, and a retreat.
Enter the king, Spencer the father, Spencer the son,
and the noblemen of the kings side.
Edw. :
Why do we sound retreat? upon them lords,
This day I shall pour vengeance with my sword
On those proud rebels that are up in arms,
And do confront and countermand their king.
Spen. son. :
I doubt it not my lord, right will prevail.
Spen. fa. :
It is not amiss my liege for either part,
To breathe a while, our men with sweat and dust
All choked well near, begin to faint for heat,
And this retire refresheth horse and man.
Spen. son. :
Here come the rebels.
Enter the Barons, Mortimer, Lancaster, Warwick,
Penbrooke, cum caeteris.
Mor. :
Look Lancaster,
yonder is Edward among his flatterers.
Lan. :
And there let him be, till
he pay dearly for their company.
War. :
And shall or Warwicks sword
shall smite in vain.
Edw. :
What rebels, do you shrink, and sound retreat?
Mor. iu. :
No Edward, no, thy flatterers faint and fly.
Lan. :
thou had best betimes forsake thee and their trains,
For they will betray
thee, traitors as they are.
Spen. so. :
Traitor on thy face, rebellious Lancaster.
Pen. :
Away base upstart, bravest thou nobles thus.
Spen. fa. :
A noble attempt, and honourable deed,
Is it not trow ye, to assemble aide,
And levy arms against your lawful king?
Edw. :
For which ere long, their heads shall satisfy,
To appease the wrath of their offended king.
Mor. iu. :
Then Edward, thou wilt fight it to the last,
And rather bathe thy sword in subjects blood,
than banish that pernicious company.
Edw. :
aye traitors all, rather
than thus be braved,
Make England's civil towns huge heaps of stones,
And ploughs to go about our palace gates.
War. :
A desperate and unnatural resolution,
Alarum to the fight, saint George for England,
And the Barons right.
Edw. :
Saint. George for England, and king Edwards right.
Enter Edward, with the Barons captives.
Edw. :
Now lusty lords, now not by chance of war,
But justice of the quarrel and the cause
Veiled is your pride, methinks you hang the head
But we will advance
them traitors, now it is time
To be avenged on you for all your braves,
And for the murther of my dearest friend,
To whom right well you knew our soul was knit,
Good Pierce of
Gaueston my sweet favourite,
Ah rebels, recreants, you made him away.
Edm. :
Brother, in regard of thee and of thy land,
Did they remove that flatterer from thy throne.
Edw. :
So sir, you have spoke, away, avoid our presence,
Accursed wretches, wast in regard of us,
When we had sent our messenger to request
He might be spared to come to speak
with us,
And Penbrooke undertook for his return,
That thou proud Warwicke watched the prisoner,
Poor Pierce, and headed him against law of arms,
For which thy head shall over look the rest.
As much as thou in rage out wentest the rest?
War. :
Tyrant, I scorn thy threats and menaces,
It is but temporal that thou canst inflict.
Lan. :
The worst is death, and better die to live,
Than live in infamy
under such a king.
Edw. :
Away with them my lord of Winchester,
These lusty leaders Warwicke and Lancaster,
I charge you roundly off with both their heads, away.
War. :
Farewell vain world.
Lan. :
Sweet Mortimer farewell.
Mor. iu. :
England, unkind to thy nobility,
Groan for this grief, behold how thou art maimed.
Edw. :
Go take that haughty Mortimer to the tower,
There see him safe bestowed, and for the rest,
Do speedy execution on them all, be gone.
Mor. iu. :
What Mortimer? can ragged stony wall
Immure thy virtue that aspires to heaven,
No Edward, England's scourge, it may not be,
Mortimers hope surmounts his fortune far.
Edw. :
Sound drums and trumpets, march with me my friends,
Edward this day hath crowned him king a new.
Exit.
Manent Spencer filius, Lewne and Baldock.
Spen. :
Lewne, the trust that we repose in thee,
Begets the quiet of king Edwards land,
Therefore be gone in
haste, and with advice,
Bestow that treasure on the lords of France,
That therewith all enchanted like the guard,
That suffered Jove to
pass in showers of gold
To Danae, all aide may be denied
To Isabell the Queen, that now in France
Makes friends, to cross the seas with her
young son,
And step into his fathers regiment.
Levune. :
that is it these Barons and the subtle Queen,
Long levied at.
Bald. :
Yea, but Lewne thou seest,
These Barons lay their heads on blocks together,
What they intend, the hangman frustrates clean.
Lewn. :
Have you no doubts
my lords, I will claps close,
Among the lords of France with England's gold,
That Isabell shall make her plaints in vain,
And France shall be obdurate with her tears.
Spen. :
Then make for France, amain Lewne away,
Proclaim king Edwards wars and victories.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Edmund.
Edm. :
fair blows the wind for France,
blow gentle gale,
Till Edmund be arrived for England's good,
Nature, yield to my countries cause in this,
A brother, no, a butcher of thy friends,
Proud Edward, dost thou banish me thy presence?
But I will to France, and cheer the wronged Queen,
And certify what Edwards looseness is,
Unnatural king, to slaughter noble men
And cherish flatterers: Mortimer I stay
Thy sweet escape, stand gracious gloomy night to his device.
Enter Mortimer disguised.
Mor. iu. :
Holla, who walketh there, is it you my lord?
Edm. :
Mortimer it is I, but hath thy
potion wrought so happily?
Mor. iu. :
It hath my lord, the warders all a sleep,
I thank them, gave me leave to pass in peace:
But hath your grace got shipping unto France?
Edm. :
Fear it not.
Exeunt.
Enter the Queen and her son.
Qu. :
Ah boy, our friends do fail us all in France,
The lords are cruel, and the king unkind,
What shall we do?
Prince. :
Madam, return to England,
And please my father well, and then a Fig
For all my uncles friendship here in France,
I warrant you, I will win his highness quickly,
He loves me better than a
thousand Spencers.
Qu. :
Ah boy, thou art deceived at least in this,
To think that we can yet be tuned together,
No, no, we war too far, unkind Valoys,
Unhappy Isabell, when France rejects,
Whether, O whether dost thou bend thy steps.
Enter sir Iohn of Henolt.
S. Ioh. :
Madam, what cheer?
Qu. :
Ah good sir Iohn of
Henolt,
Never so cheerless, nor so far distressed.
S. Ioh. :
I hear sweet lady of the kings unkindness,
But droop not madam, noble minds contemn
Despair: will your grace with me to Henolt?
And there stay times advantage with your son,
How say you my Lord, will you go with your friends,
And shake off all our fortunes equally.
Prin. :
So pleaseth the Queen my mother, me it likes,
The king of England, nor the court of France,
Shall have me from my gracious mothers side,
Till I be strong enough to break a staff,
And then have at the proudest
Spencers head.
Sir Iohn. :
Well said my lord.
Qu. :
O my sweet heart, how do I moan thy wrongs?
Yet triumph in the hope of thee my joy,
Ah sweet sir Iohn, even to the utmost verge
Of Europe, or the shore of
Tanaise,
Will we with thee to Henolt,
so we will,
The Marquis is a noble Gentleman,
His grace I dare presume will welcome me,
But who are these?
Enter Edmund and Mortimer.
Edm. :
Madam, long may you live,
Much happier than your friends in England do.
Qu. :
Lord Edmund and lord
Mortimer alive,
Welcome to France: the news was here my lord,
That you were dead, or very near your death.
Mor. iu. :
Lady, the last was truest of the twain,
But Mortimer reserved for better hap,
Hath shaken off the thralldom of the tower,
And lives to advance your standard good my lord.
Prin. :
How mean you, and the king my father lives?
No my lord Mortimer, not I, I trow.
Qu. :
Not son, why not? I would it were no worse,
But gentle lords, friendless we are in France.
Mor. iu. :
Monsieur le Grand, a noble friend of yours,
Told us at our arrival all the news,
How hard the nobles, how unkind the king
Hath showed himself: but madam, right makes room,
Where weapons want, and though a many friends
Are made away, as Warwick, Lancaster,
And others of our party and faction,
Yet have we friends, assure your grace in England,
Would cast up caps, and clap their hands for joy,
To see us there appointed for our foes.
Edm. :
Would all were well, and Edward well reclaimed,
For England's honour, peace, and quietness.
Mort. :
But by the sword, my lord, it must be deserved.
The king will never forsake his flatterers.
S. Ioh. :
My Lords of England, sith the ungentle king
Of France refuseth to give aide of arms,
To this distressed Queen his sister here,
Go you with her to Henolt,
doubt ye not,
We will find comfort, money, men, and friends
Ere long, to bid the English king a base,
How say young Prince, what think you of the match?
Prin. :
I think king Edward will
out run us all.
Qu. :
Nay son, not so, and you must not discourage
Your friends that are so forward in your aide.
Edm. :
Sir Iohn of Henolt, pardon us I pray,
These comforts that you give our woeful queen,
Bind us in kindness all at your command.
Qu. :
Yea gentle brother, and the God of heaven,
Prosper your happy motion good sir Iohn.
Mor. iu. :
This noble gentleman forward in arms,
Was born I see to be our anchor hold,
Sir Iohn of Henolt,
be it thy renown,
That England's Queen, and nobles in distress,
Have been by thee restored and comforted.
S. Iohn. :
Madam along, and you my lord with me,
That England's
peers may Henolts welcome see.
Enter the king, Matr. the two Spencers, with others.
Edw. :
Thus after many threats of wrathful war,
Triumpheth England's Edward with his friends,
And triumph Edward with his friends uncontrolled,
My lord of Gloster, do you hear the news?
Spen. iu. :
What news my lord?
Edw. :
Why man, they say there is great execution
Done through the realm, my lord of Arundell
You have the note,
have you not?
Matr. :
From the lieutenant of the tower my lord.
Edw. :
I pray let us see it,
what have we there?
Read it Spencer.
Spencer reads their names.
Why so, they barked a pace a month ago,
Now on my life, they will neither bark nor bite.
Now sirs, the news from France, Gloster I trow,
The lords of France love England's gold so well,
As Isabell gets no aide from thence.
What now remains, have you proclaimed, my lord,
Reward for them can bring in Mortimer?
Spen. iu. :
My lord, we have, and if he be in England,
He will be had ere long I doubt it not.
Edw. :
If; dost thou say? Spencer,
as true as death,
He is in England's ground, our portmasters
Are not so careless of their kings command.
Enter a Poaste.
How now, what news with thee, from whence come these?
Post. :
Letters my lord, and tidings forth of France,
To you my lord of Gloster from Lewne.
Edward. :
Read.
Spencer reads the letter.
My duty to your honour promised, I have according to instructions in that behalf,
dealt with the king of France his lords, and affected, that
the Queen all discontented and discomforted, is gone, whither if
you ask, with sir Iohn
of Henolt, brother to the Marquess,
into Flaunders: with them are gone lord Edmund,
and the lord Mortimer, having in their
company divers of your nation, and others, and as constant report
goeth, they intend to give king
Edward battle in England, sooner than
he can look for them: this is all
the news of import.
Your honours in all service, Lewne.
Edw. :
Ah villains, hath that
Mortimer escaped?
With him is Edmund gone associate?
And will sir Iohn
of Henolt lead the round?
Welcome in Gods name Madam and
your son,
England shall welcome you, and all your route,
Gallop apace 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 desired day,
When we may meet these 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,
As you injurious were to bear them forth.
Enter the Queen, her son, Edmund, Mortimer, and sir Iohn.
Qu. :
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 glove,
In civil broils makes kin and country men,
Slaughter themselves in others and their sides
With their own weapons gored,
but what is the help?
Misgoverned kings are cause of all this wrack,
And Edward thou art one among them all,
Whose looseness hath betrayed thy land to spoil,
And made the channels overflow with blood,
Of thine own people patron shouldest thou be, but thou.
Mor. iu. :
Nay madam, if you be a warier,
Ye must not grow so passionate in speeches:
Lords, sith that we are by sufferance of heaven,
Arrived and armed in this princes right,
Here for our
countries cause swear we to him
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 wreck it with the swords:
That England's queen in peace may repossess
Her dignities and honours, and withal
We may remove these flatterers from the king,
That havocs England's wealth and treasury.
S. Io. :
Sound trumpets my lord and forward let us march,
Edward will think
we come to flatter him.
Edm. :
I would he never had
been flattered more.
Enter the King, Baldock, and Spencer the son,
flying about the stage.
Spe. :
Fly, fly, my Lord, the Queen is overstrong.
Her friends do multiply
and yours do fail,
Shape we our course to Ireland there to breath.
Edw. :
What, was I born to fly and run away,
And leave the Mortimers conquerors behind?
give me my horse and let us
reinforce our troupes,
And in this bed of honour die with fame.
Bal. :
O no my lord, this princely resolution
Fits not the time, away, we are pursued.
Edmund alone with a sword and target.
Edm. :
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?
Vild wretch, and why hast thou of all unkind,
Borne arms against thy brother and thy king?
Reign 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 Isabell 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 Longshankes blood
Is false, be not found single for suspect:
Proud Mortimer pries near into thy walks.
Enter the Queen, Mortimer, the young Prince and Sir Iohn of Henolt.
Qu. :
Successful battles gives the God of kings,
To them that fight in right and fear his wrath:
Since then successfully we have prevailed,
Thanks be heavens 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.
Edm. :
Madam, without offence if I may ask,
How will you deal with Edward in his fall?
Prince. :
Tell me good uncle, what Edward
do you mean?
Edm. :
Nephew, your father, I dare not call him king.
Mor. :
My lord of Kent, what needs these questions?
It is 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, it is good to look to him betimes.
Qu. :
My lord, the Mayor of Bristow knows our mind.
Mor. :
Yea madam, and they scape not easily,
That fled the field.
Qu. :
Baldock is with the king,
A goodly chancellor, is he not my lord?
S. Ioh. :
So are the Spencers, the father
and the son.
Edm. :
This Edward is the ruin of the realm.
Enter Rice ap Howell, and the Mayor of Bristow,
with Spencer the father.
Rice. :
God save Queen Isabell,
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,
Reveled in England's wealth and treasury.
Qu. :
We thank you all.
Mor. iu. :
Your loving care in this,
Deserveth princely favours and rewards,
But where is the king and
the other Spencer fled?
Rice. :
Spencer the son, created earl of Gloster,
Is with that smooth tongued scholar Baldock gone,
And shipped but late for Ireland with the king.
Mort. iu. :
Some whirl wind fetch them back, or sink them all:
They shall be started thence I doubt it not.
Prin. :
Shall I not see the king my father yet?
Edmund. :
Unhappy is Edward, chaste from England's bounds.
S. Ioh. :
Madam, what resteth, why stand ye in a muse?
Qu. :
I rue my lords ill fortune, but alas,
Care of my country called me to this war.
Mort. :
Madam, have done with care and sad complain,
Your king hath wronged your country and himself,
And we must seek to right it as we may,
Mean while, have hence this rebel to the block,
Your lordship cannot privilege your head.
Spen. pa. :
Rebel is he that fights against his prince,
So fought not they that fought in
Edwards right.
Mort. :
Take him away, he prates, 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 mean while madam, must take advise,
How Baldocke, Spencer, and their complices,
May in their fall be followed to their end.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter the Abbot, Monks, Edward, Spencer, and Baldocke.
Abbot. :
Have you no doubt my Lord,
have you no fear,
As silent and as careful will we 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.
Edwa. :
Father, thy face should harbour no deceit,
O hadst thou ever been a king, thy heart
Pierced deeply with 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
Baldocke, come sit down by me,
Make trial now of that philosophy,
That in our famous nurseries of arts
Thou suckedest from Plato, and from
Aristotle.
Father, this life contemplative is heaven,
O that I might this life in quiet lead,
But we alas are chaste, 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.
Monks. :
Your grace may sit secure, if none but we do wot of your abode.
Spen. :
Not one alive, but shrewdly I suspect,
A gloomy fellow in a mead below,
He 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.
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!
Spen. son. :
Look up my lord.
Baldock, this drowsiness
Betides no good, here even
we are betrayed.
Enter with Welsh hooks, Rice vp Howell, a Mower,
and the Earl of Leicester.
Mower. :
Upon my life, those be the men ye see
Rice. :
Fellow enough, my lord I pray be short,
A fair commission warrants what we do.
Lei. :
The Queens commission, urged by Mortimer,
What cannot 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 supebum,
Hunc dies vidit fugiens iacentem
But Leister leave to grow so passionate,
Spencer and
Baldocke, by no other names,
I arrest you of high treason here,
Stand not on titles, but obey the arrest,
It is in the name of
Isabell the queen:
My lord, why droop you thus?
Edw. :
O day! the last of all my bliss on earth;
Centre of all misfortune. O my stars!
Why do you lower unkindly on a king?
Comes Leister then in Isabellas 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 friends.
Rice. :
Away with them.
Spen. iu. :
It may be come thee yet,
To let us take our farewell of his grace.
Abbot. :
My heart with pity earns to see this sight,
A king to bear these words and proud commands.
Edw. :
Spencer, a sweet Spencer,
thus then must we part.
Spen. iu. :
We must my lord, so will the angry heavens.
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.
Edwa. :
In heaven we may, in earth
never shall we meet,
And Leister say, what shall become of us
Leist. :
Your majesty must go to Killingworth.
Edw. :
Must! it is somewhat hard, when kings must go.
Leist. :
Here is a letter ready for your grace,
That waits your pleasure, and the day grows old.
Rice. :
As good be gone, as stay and be beknighted.
Edw. :
A letter 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 Charons shore,
For friends hath Edward none, but these, and these,
And these must die under a tyrants sword.
Rice. :
My lord, be going, care not for these,
For we shall see them shorter by the heads.
Edw. :
Well, that shall be, shall be: part we must,
Sweet Spencer, gentle
Baldocke, part we must,
Hence fained weeds, unfeigned are my woes,
Father, farewell: Leister, thou stayest for me,
And go I must, life farewell with my friends.
Exeunt Edward and Leicester.
Spen. iu. :
O is he gone! is noble Edward gone,
Parted from hence, never
to see us more,
Rent sphere of heaven, and fire forsake thy orb,
Earth melt to air, gone is my sovereign,
Gone, gone alas, never to make return.
Bald. :
Spencer, I see our souls are fleeted hence,
We are deprived the sunshine of our life,
Make for a new life man, throw up thy eyes,
And heart and hand to heavens immortal throne,
Pay natures debt with cheerful countenance,
Reduce we all our lessons unto this,
To die sweet Spencer,
therefore live we all,
Spencer, all live to die, and rise to fall.
Rice. :
Come, come, keep these preachments till you come to the place appointed
You, and such as you are, have
made wise work in England.
Will your Lordships away?
Mower. :
Your worship I trust will remember me?
Rice. :
Remember thee fellow? what else,
Follow me to the town.
Enter the king, Leicester, with a Bishop for the crown.
Lei. :
Be patient good my lord, cease to lament,
Imagine Killingworth castle were your court,
And that you lay for pleasure here a space,
Not of compulsion or necessity.
Edw. :
Leister, if gentle words might comfort me,
Thy speeches long ago had eased my sorrows,
For king and loving hast thou always been:
The griefs of private men are soon allayed,
But not of kings, the forest deer being struck
runs to an herb that closeth up the wounds,
But when the imperial Lions flesh is gored,
He rends and tears it with his wrathful paw,
Highly scorning, that the lowly earth
Should drink his blood, mounts up into the air,
And so it fares with me, whose dauntless mind
The ambitious Mortimer would seek to curb,
And that unnatural queen false Isabell,
That thus hath pent and mewed me in a prison,
For such outrageous passions cloy my soul,
As with the wings of rancour and disdain,
Full often am I soaring up to heaven,
To plain me to the gods against them both.
But when I call to mind I am a king,
Methinks I should revenge me of the wrongs,
That Mortimer and
Isabell have done.
But what are kings, when regiment is gone,
But perfect shadows in a sunshine day?
My nobles rule, I bear the name of king,
I wear the crown, but am controlled by them,
By Mortimer, and my unconstant queen,
Who spots my nuptial bed with infamy,
Whilst I am lodged within this cave of care,
Where sorrow at my elbow still attends,
To company my heart with sad laments,
That bleeds within me for this strange exchange.
But tell me, must I now resign my crown,
To make usurping Mortimer a king?
Bish. :
Your grace mistakes, it is for Englands good,
And princely Edwards
right we crave the crown.
Edw. :
No, it is for
Mortimer, not Edwards head,
For he is a lamb, encompassed by wolves,
Which in a moment will abridge his life:
But if proud Mortimer do wear this crown,
Heavens turn it to a blaze of quenchless fire,
Or like the snaky wreath of Tisiphon,
Engirt the temples of his hateful head,
So shall not Englands Vines be perished,
But Edwards name survives, though
Edward dies.
Lei. :
My lord, why waste you thus the time away,
They stay your answer, will you yield your crown?
Edw. :
Ah Leister, way, how hardly I can brook
To lose my crown and kingdom, without cause,
To give ambitious
Mortimer my right,
That like a mountain overwhelms my bliss.
In which extreme my mind here murthered is:
But what the heavens appoint, I must obey,
Here, take my crown, the life of Edward too,
Two kings in England cannot reign at once:
But stay a while, let me be king till night,
That I may gaze upon this glittering crown,
So shall my eyes receive their last content,
My head, the latest honour dew to it,
And jointly both yield up their wished right.
Continue ever thou celestial sun,
Let never silent night possess this clime,
Stand still you watches of the element,
All times and seasons rest you at a stay,
That Edward may be still fair Englands king:
But days bright beams doth vanish fast away,
And needs I must resign my wished crown,
Inhuman creatures, nursed with Tigers milk,
Why gape you for your sovereigns overthrow?
My diadem I mean, and guiltless life,
See monsters see, I will wear
my crown again,
What, fear you not the fury of your king?
But hapless Edward, thou art fondly led,
They pass not for thy frowns as late they did,
But seeks to make a new elected king,
Which fills my mind with strange despairing thoughts,
Which thoughts are martyred with endless torments.
And in this torment, comfort find I none,
But that I feel the crown upon my head,
And therefore let me wear it yet a while.
Tru. :
My Lord, the parliament must have present news,
And therefore say, will you resign or no.
The king rageth.
Edw. :
I will not resign, but
whilst I live,
Traitors be gone, and
join you with Mortimer,
Elect, conspire, install, do what you will,
Their blood and yours shall seal these treacheries.
Bish. :
This answer we will
return, and so farewell.
Leist. :
Call them again my lord, and
speak them fair,
For if they go, the prince shall lose his right.
Edward. :
Call thou them back, I have
no power to speak.
Lei. :
My lord, the king is willing to resign.
Bish. :
If he be not, let him choose.
Edw. :
O would I might, but heavens and earth conspire
To make me miserable: here receive my crown,
Receive it? no, these innocent hands of mine
Shall not be guilty of so foul a crime,
He of you all that most desires my blood,
And will be called the murtherer of a king,
Take it: what are you moved, pity you me?
Then send for unrelenting Mortimer
And Isabel, whose eyes been turned to steel,
Will sooner sparkle fire than shed a tear:
Yet stay, for rather than
I will look on them,
Here, here: now sweet God of heaven,
Make me despise this transitory pomp,
And sit for aye enthronized in heaven,
Come death, and with thy fingers close my eyes,
Or if I live, let me forget
myself.
Enter Bartley.
Bartley. :
My lord.
Edw. :
Call me not lord,
Away, out of my sight, ah pardon me,
Grief makes me lunatic,
Let not that Mortimer
protect my son,
More safety is there in a Tigers jaws,
This his embracements, bear this to the queen,
Wet with my tears, and dried again with sighs,
If with the sight thereof she be not moved,
Return it back and dip it in my blood,
Commend me to my son, and bid him rule
Better than I, yet how
have I transgressed,
Unless it be with too much clemency?
Tru. :
And thus, most humbly do we take our leave.
Edward. :
Farewell, I know the next news that they bring,
Will be my death, and welcome shall it be,
To wretched men death is felicity.
Leist. :
An other post, what news brings he?
Edw. :
Such news as I expect, come Bartley, come,
And tell thy message to my naked breast.
Bart. :
My lord, think not a thought so villainous
Can harbour in a man of noble birth.
To do your highness service and devour,
And save you from your foes, Bartley would die.
Leist. :
My lord, the counsel of the Queen commands,
That I resign my charge.
Edw. :
And who must keep me now,
must you my lord?
Bart. :
Aye, my most gracious lord,
so it is decreed.
Edw. :
By Mortimer, whose name is written here,
Well may I rent his name, that rends my heart,
This poor revenge hath something eased my mind,
So may his limbs be torn, as is this paper,
Hear me immortal
Jove, and grant it too.
Bart. :
Your grace must hence with me
to Bartley straight.
Edw. :
Whether you will, all places are alike,
And every earth is fit for burial.
Leist. :
Favour him my lord, as much as lieth in you.
Bart. :
Even so betide my soul as I use him.
Edw. :
Mine enemy hath pitied my estate,
And that is the cause
that I am now removed.
Bartley. :
And thinks your grace that Bartley will
be cruel?
Edw. :
I know not, but of this am I assured,
That death ends all, and I can die but once,
Leicester, farewell.
Leicester. :
Not yet my lord, I will
bear you on your way.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Mortimer, and Queen Isabel.
Mor. iu. :
Fair Isabel, now
have we our desire,
The proud corrupters of the light-brained king,
Have done their homage to the lofty gallows,
And he himself lies in captivity,
Be ruled by me, and we will rule the realm,
In any case, take heed of childish fear,
For now we hold an old Wolf by the ears,
That if he flip will seize upon us both,
And gripe the sorer being gripped himself,
think therefore madam that imports as much,
To erect your son withal the speed we may,
And that I be protector over him,
For our behoof will bear the greater sway
When as a kings name shall be under writ.
Qu. :
Sweet Mortimer, the life
of Isabel,
Be thou persuaded, that I love thee well,
And therefore so the prince my son be safe,
whom I esteem as dear as these mine eyes,
Conclude against his father what thou wilt,
And I myself will willingly subscribe.
Mort. iu. :
First would I hear news
that he were deposed,
And then let me alone to handle him.
Enter Messenger.
Mor. iu. :
Letters, from whence?
Messen. :
From Killing worth my lord.
Qu. :
How fares my lord the king?
Messen. :
In health madam, but full of pensiveness.
Queen. :
Alas poor soul, would I could ease his grief,
Thanks gentle Winchester, sirrah, be gone.
Winchester. :
The king hath willingly resigned his crown.
Qu. :
O happy news, send for the prince my son.
Bish. :
Further, or this letter was sealed, Lord Bartley came,
So that he now is gone from Killingworth,
And we have heard that
Edmund laid a plot,
To set his brother free, no more but so,
The lord of Bartley is so pitiful,
As Leicester that had charge of him before.
Qu. :
Then let some other be his guardian.
Mor. iu. :
Let me alone, here is the privy seal,
who is there, call hither
Gurney and Matreuis,
To dash the heavy headed Edmunds drift,
Bartley shall be discharged, the king removed,
And none but we shall know where he lieth.
Qu. :
But Mortimer, as long as he survives
What safety rests for us or
for my son?
Mort. iu. :
speak, shall he presently
be dispatched and die?
Queen. :
I would he were, so
it were not by my means.
Enter Matreuis and Guruey.
Mortim. iu. :
Enough Matreuis, write a letter presently
Unto the Lord of Bartley
from ourself,
That he resign the king to thee and Gurney,
And when it is done, we
will subscribe our name.
Matr. :
It shall be done my lord.
Mort. iu. :
Gurney.
Gurn. :
My Lord.
Mort. iu. :
As thou intendest to rise by Mortimer,
Who now makes Fortunes wheel turn as he please,
Seek all the means thou canst to make him droop,
And neither give him
kind word, nor good look.
Gurn. :
I warrant you my lord.
Mort. iu. :
And this above the rest,
because we hear
That Edmund casts to work his liberty,
Remove him still from place to place by night,
And at the last, he come to Killingworth,
And then from thence to Bartley
back again:
And by the way to make him fret the more,
Speak cursedly to him, and in any case
Let no man comfort him, if he chance to weep,
But amplify his grief with bitter words.
Matre. :
Fear not my Lord, we will do as you command.
Mor. iu. :
So now away, post thither wards amain.
Qu. :
Whither goes this letter, to my lord the king?
Commend me humbly to his Majesty,
And tell him, that I labour all in vain,
To ease his grief, and work his liberty:
And bear him this, as witness of my love.
Matre. :
I will madam.
Exeunt Matreuis and Gurney.
Manent Isabel and Mortimer.
Enter the young Prince, and the Earl of Kent talking with him.
Mor. iu. :
Finely dissembled, do so still sweet Queen,
Here comes the young prince, with the Earl of Kent.
Qu. :
Something he whispers in his childish ears.
Mort. iu. :
If he have such access
unto the prince,
Our plots and stratagems will soon be dashed.
Queen. :
Use Edmund friendly, as if all were well.
Mor. iu. :
How fares my honourable lord of Kent?
Edmun. :
In health sweet Mortimer, how fares your grace.
Queen. :
Well, if my Lord your brother were enlarged.
Edm. :
I hear of late he hath
deposed himself.
Queen. :
The more my grief.
Mortim. iu. :
And mine.
Edmun. :
Ah they do dissemble.
Queen. :
Sweet son come hither,
I must talk with thee.
Mortim. iu. :
Thou being his uncle, and the next of blood,
do lool to be protector
over the prince.
Edm. :
Not I my lord: who should protect the son,
But she that gave him life, I mean the Queen?
Prin. :
Mother, persuade me not to wear the crown,
Let him be king, I am too young to reign.
Queen. :
But be content, seeing it his highness pleasure.
Prin. :
Let me but see him first, and then I will.
Edmund. :
I do sweet Nephew.
Quee. :
Brother, you know it is impossible.
Prince. :
Why, is he dead?
Queen. :
No, God forbid.
Edmun. :
I would these words proceeded from your heart.
Mort. iu. :
Inconstant Edmund, dost thou favour him,
That wast a cause of his imprisonment?
Edm. :
The more cause have I now to make amends.
Mort. iu. :
I tell thee it is not meet, that one so false
Should come about the person of a prince,
My lord, he hath betrayed the king his brother,
And therefore trust him not.
Prince. :
But he repents, and sorrows for it now.
Queen. :
Come son, and go with
this gentle Lord and me.
Prin. :
With you I will, but not with Mortimer.
Mort. iu. :
Why youngling, suddenest thou so of Mortimer?
Then I will carry thee by force away.
Prin. :
Help uncle Kent, Mortimer will wrong me.
Quee. :
Brother Edmund, strive not, we are his friends,
Isabel is nearer than the earl of Kent.
Edm. :
Sister, Edward is my charge, redeem him.
Queen. :
Edward is my son, and I will keep him.
Edmu. :
Mortimer shall know that
he hath wronged me.
Hence will I haste to Killingworth castle,
And rescue aged Edward from his foes,
To be revenged on Mortimer and thee.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Matreuis and Gurney with the king.
Matr. :
My lord, be not pensive, we are your friends,
Men are ordained to live in misery,
Therefore come, dalliance dangereth our lives.
Edw. :
Friends, whither must unhappy Edward go,
Will hateful Mortimer appoint no rest?
Must I be vexed like the nightly bird,
Whose sight is loathsome to all winged fowls?
When will the fury of his mind assuage?
When will his heart be satisfied with blood?
If mine will serve, unbowel straight this breast,
And give my heart to
Isabel and him,
It is the chiefest mark they level at.
Gurney. :
Not so my liege, the Queen hath given this charge,
To keep your grace in safety,
Your passions make your dolours to increase.
Edw. :
This usage makes my misery increase.
But can my air of life continue long,
When all my senses are annoyed with stench?
Within a dungeon Englands king is kept,
Where I am starved for want of sustenance,
My daily diet, is heart breaking sobs,
That almost rents the closet of my heart,
Thus lives old Edward not relieved by any,
And so must die, though pitied by many.
O water gentle friends to cool my thirst,
And clear my body from foul excrements.
Matr. :
Here is channel water, as our charge is given,
Sit down, for we will be Barbers to your grace.
Edw. :
Traitors away, what will you murther me,
Or choke your sovereign with puddle water?
Gurn. :
No, but wash your face, and shave away your beard,
Least you be known, and so be rescued.
Matr. :
Why strive you thus, your labour is in vain?
Edward. :
The Wren may strive against the Lions strength.
But all in vain, so vainly do I strive,
To seek for mercy at a tyrants hand.
They wash him with puddle water, and
shave his beard away.
Immortal powers, that knows the painful cares,
That waits upon my poor distressed soul,
O level all your looks upon these daring men,
That wrongs their liege and sovereign, Englands king,
O Gaueston, it is for thee that I am wronged,
For me, both thou, and both the Spencers died,
And for your sakes, a thousand wrongs I will take,
The Spencers ghosts,
where ever they remain,
Wish well to mine, then tush for them I will die.
Matr. :
Twixt theirs and yours, shall be no enmity,
Come, come, away, now put the torches out,
We will enter
in by darkness to Killingworth.
Enter Edmund.
Gurn. :
How now, who comes there?
Matr. :
Guard the king sure, it is the earl of Kent.
Edw. :
O gentle brother, help to rescue me.
Matr. :
Keep them a sunder, thrust in the king.
Edm. :
Soldiers, let me but talk to him one word.
Gur. :
Lay hands upon the earl for this assault.
Edmu. :
Lay down your weapons, traitors yield the king.
Matr. :
Edmund, yield thou thyself, or thou shalt die.
Edmu. :
Base villains, wherefore do you gripe
me thus?
Gurney. :
Bind him, and so convey him to the court.
Edm. :
Where is the court but here, here is the king,
And I will visit him, why stay you me?
Matr. :
The court is where lord Mortimer remains,
Thither shall your honour go, and so farewell.
Exeunt Matr. and Gurney, with the king.
Manent Edmund and the soldiers.
Edm. :
O miserable is that common-weal, where lords
Keep courts, and kings are locked in prison!
Sould. :
Wherefore stay we? on sirs to the court.
Edm. :
aye, load me whether you will,
even to my death,
Seeing that my brother cannot be released.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Mortimer alone.
Mort. iu. :
The king must die, or Mortimer
goes down,
The commons now begin to pity him,
Yet he that is the cause of Edwards death,
Is sure to pay for it when his son is of age,
And therefore will I do it cunningly,
This letter written by a friend of ours,
Contains his death, yet bids them save his life.

Fear not to kill the king it is good he die.
But read it thus, and that is an other sense:

Kill not the king it is good to fear the worst.
Unpointed as it is, thus shall it go,
That being dead, if it chance to be found,
Matreuis and the rest may bear the blame,
And we be quit that caused it to be done:
Within this room is locked the messenger,
That shall convey it, and perform the rest,
And by a secret token that he bears,
Shall he be murdered when the deed is done.
Lightborn, come forth, art
thou as resolute as thou wast?
Light. :
What else my lord? and far more resolute.
Mort. iu. :
And hast thou cast how to accomplish it?
Light. :
aye, aye, and none shall know which way he died.
Mortim. iu. :
But at his looks Lightborne thou wilt relent.
Light. :
Relent, ha, ha, I use much to relent.
Mort. iu. :
Well, do it bravely, and be secret.
Light. :
You shall not need to give instructions,
It is not the first time
I have killed a man,
I learned in Naples how to poison flowers,
To strangle with a lawn thrust through the throat,
To pierce the windpipe with a needles point,
Or whilst one is a sleep, to take a quill
And blow a little powder in his ears,
Or open his mouth, and pour quick silver down,
But yet I have a braver way
than these.
Mort. iu. :
What is that?
Light. :
Nay, you shall pardon me, none shall know my tricks.
Mort. iu. :
I care not how it is, so it be not spied,
Deliver this to Gurney
and Matreuis,
At every ten miles end thou hast a horse.
Take this, away, and never see me more.
Lightborne. :
No.
Mort. iu. :
No, unless thou bring me news of Edwards death.
Light. :
That will I quickly do, farewell my lord.
Mor. :
The prince I rule, the queen do I command,
And with a lowly conge to the ground,
The proudest lords salute me as I pass,
I seal, I cancel, I do what I will,
Feared am I more than loved, let me be feared,
And when I frown, make all the court look pale,
I view the prince with Aristorchus eyes,
Whose looks were as a breeching to a boy,
They thrust upon me the Protectorship,
And sue to me for that that I desire,
While at the council table, grave enough,
And not unlike a bashful Puritan,
First I complain of imbecility,
Saying it is,
Till being interrupted by my friends,
that
as they term it,
And to conclude, I am Protector now,
Now is all sure, the Queen and Mortimer
Shall rule the realm, the king, and none rule us,
Mine enemies will I plague, my friends advance,
And what I list command, who dare control,

And that this be the coronation day,
It pleaseth me, and Isabell the Queen,
The trumpets sound, I must go take my place.
Enter the young King, Bishop, Champion, Nobles, Queen.
Bish. :
Long live king
Edward, by the grace of God
King of England, and lord of Ireland.
Cham. :
If any Christian, Heathen, Turk, or Jew,
Dares but affirm, that Edwards not true king.
And will avouch his saying with the sword,
I am the Champion that will combat him.
Mort. iu. :
None comes, sound trumpets.
King. :
Champion, here is to thee.
Qu. :
Lord Mortimer, now take him to your charge.
Enter Soldiers with the Earl of Kent prisoner.
Mor. iu. :
What traitor have we
there with blades and bills?
Sould. :
Edmund the Earl of Kent.
King. :
What hath he done?
Sould. :
He would have
taken the king away perforce,
As we were bringing him to Killingworth.
Mortimer. iu. :
Did you attempt his rescue, Edmund
speak?
Edm. :
Mortimer, I did, he is our king,
And thou compelest this prince to wear the crown.
Mort. iu. :
Strike off his head, he shall have marshall law.
Edm. :
Strike off my head, base traitor I defy thee.
King. :
My lord, he is my uncle, and shall live.
Mor. iu. :
My lord, he is your enemy, and shall die.
Edmund. :
Stay villains.
King. :
Sweet mother, if I cannot pardon him,
Entreat my lord Protector for his life.
Qu. :
Son, be content, I dare not
speak a word.
King. :
Nor I, and yet methinks I should command,
But seeing I cannot, I will entreat for him:
My lord, if you will let my uncle live,
I will requite it when I come to age.
Mort. iu. :
It is for your highness good,
and for the realms,
How often shall I bid you bear him hence?
Edm. :
Art thou king, must I die at thy command?
Mort. iu. :
At our command, once more away with him.
Edm. :
Let me but stay and speak, I will not go,
Either my brother or his son is king,
And none of both, then thirst for Edmunds blood,
And therefore soldiers whither will you hale me?
They hale Edmund away, and carry him to be beheaded.
King. :
What safety may I look for at his hands,
If that my uncle shall be murthered thus?
Queen. :
Fear not sweet boy, I will guard thee from thy foes,
Had Edmund lived, he would have sought thy death,
Come son, we will ride
a hunting in the park.
King. :
And shall my uncle Edmund ride with
us?
Queen. :
He is a traitor, think not on him, come.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Matr. and Gurney.
Matr. :
Gurney, I wonder the king dies not,
Being in a vault up to the knees in water,
To which the channels of the castle run,
From whence a damp continually ariseth,
That were enough to poison any man,
Much more a king brought up so tenderly.
Gurn. :
And so do I, Matreuis: yesternight
I opened but the door to throw him meat,
And I was almost stifled with the savour.
Matr. :
He hath a body able to endure,
More than we can inflict, and therefore now,
Let us assail his mind another while.
Gurn. :
Send for him out thence, and I will anger him.
Matr. :
But stay, who is this?
Enter Lightborne.
Light. :
My lord protector greets you.
Gurn. :
What is here? I know not
how to conster it.
Matr. :
Gurney, it was left unpointed for the nonce,

That is his meaning.
Light. :
Know you this token, I must have the king?
Matr. :
Aye stay a while, thou shalt
have answer straight.
This villain is sent to make away the king.
Gurney. :
I thought as much.
Matr. :
And when the murder is done,
See how he must be handled for his labour,

let him have the king,
What else, here is the keys, this is the lake,
Do as you are commanded by my lord.
Light. :
I know what I must do, get you away,
Yet be not far off, I shall need your help,
See that in the next room I have a fire,
And get me a spit, and let it be red hot.
Matre. :
Very well.
Gurn. :
Need you anything besides?
Light. :
What else, a table and a featherbed.
Gurn. :
that is all.
Light. :
Aye, Aye, so when I call you, bring it in.
Matre. :
Fear not you that.
Gurn. :
here is a light to go into the dungeon.
Lightbor. :
So now must I about this gear, never was there any
So finely handled as this king shall be,
Foh, here is a place in deed with all my heart.
Edward. :
Who is there, what light
is that, wherefore comes thou?
Light. :
To comfort you, and bring you joyful news.
Edward. :
Small comfort finds poor Edward in thy looks,
Villain, I know thou comest to murther me.
Light. :
To murther you my most gracious lord,
Far is it from my heart to do you harm,
The Queen sent me, to see how you were used,
For she relents at this your misery.
And what eyes can refrain from shedding tears,
To see a king in this most piteous state?
Edw. :
Weepest thou already, list a while to me,
And then thy heart, were it as Gurneys is,
Or as Matreuis, hewn from
the Caucuses,
Yet will it melt, ere I have done my tale,
This dungeon where they keep me, is the sink,
Wherein the filth of all the castle falls.
Light. :
O villains!
Edw. :
And there in mire and puddle have I stood,
This ten days space, and least that I should sleep,
One plays continually upon a Drum,
They give me bread and water being a king,
So that for want of sleep and sustenance,
My mind is distempered,
and my body is numbed,
And whether I have limbs or no, I know not,
O would my blood dropped out from every vain,
As doth this water from my tattered robes:
Tell Isabel the Queen, I looked not thus,
When for her sake I ran at tilt in France,
And there unhorsed the duke of Cleremont.
Light. :
O speak no more my lord, this breaks my heart.
Lie on this bed, and rest yourself a while,
Edw. :
These looks of thine can harbour nought but death.
I see my tragedy written in thy brows,
Yet stay a while, forbear thy bloody hand,
And let me see the stroke before it comes,
That and even then when I shall lose my life,
My mind may be more steadfast on my God.
Light. :
What means your highness to mistrust me thus?
Edwa. :
What means thou to dissemble with me thus?
Light. :
These hands were never stained with innocent blood,
Nor shall they now be tainted with a kings.
Edward. :
Forgive my thought, for having such a thought,
One jewel have I left, receive thou this,
Still fear I, and I know not what is the cause,
But every joint shakes as
I give it thee:
O if thou harbourest murther in thy heart,
Let this gift change thy mind, and save thy soul,
Know that I am a king, O at that name,
I feel a hell of grief, where is my crown?
Gone, gone, and do I remain alive?
Light. :
You are over watched my lord,
lie down and rest.
Edw. :
But that grief keeps me waking, I should sleep,
For not these ten days have these eye lids closed,
Now as I speak they fall, and yet with fear
Open again, O wherefore
sits thou here?
Light. :
If you mistrust me, I will be
gone my lord.
Edw. :
No, no, for if thou meanest to murther me,
Thou wilt return again, and therefore stay.
Light. :
He sleeps.
Edw. :
O let me not die, yet stay, O stay a while.
Light. :
How now my Lord.
Edw. :
Something still busseth in mine ears,
And tells me, if I sleep I never wake,
This fear is that which makes me tremble thus,
And therefore tell me, wherefore art thou come?
Light. :
To rid thee of thy life, Matreuis come,
Edw. :
I am too weak and feeble to resist,
Assist me sweet God, and receive my soul.
Light. :
Run for the table.
Edw. :
O spare me, or dispatch me in a trice.
Light. :
So, lay the table down, and stamp his body.
But not too hard, least that you bruise his body.
Matreuis. :
I fear me that this cry will raise the town,
And therefore let us take horse and away.
Light. :
Tell me sirs, was it not bravely done?
Gurn. :
Excellent well, take this for thy reward,
Then Gurney stabs Lightborne.
Come let us cast the body in the more,
And bear the kings to Mortimer
our lord, away.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Mortimer and Matreuis.
Mortim. iu. :
Is it done, Matreuis,
and the murtherer dead?
Matr. :
Aye my good Lord, I would it were undone.
Mort. iu. :
Matreuis, if thou now growest penitent
I will be thy ghostly father, therefore choose,
Whether thou wilt be secret in this,
Or else die by the hand of Mortimer.
Matr. :
Gurney my lord is fled, and will I fear,
Betray us both, therefore let me fly.
Mort. iu. :
Fly to the Savages.
Matr. :
I humbly thank your honour.
Mor. iu. :
As for myself, I stand as
Jove's huge tree,
And others are but shrubs compared to me,
All tremble at my name, and I fear none,
Let us see who dare
impeach me for his death?
Enter the Queen.
Queen. :
Ah Mortimer, the king my
son hath news,
His father is dead, and we
have murdered him.
Mor. iu. :
What if he have? the king is yet a child.
Queen. :
aye, Aye, but he tears his hair, and wrings his hands,
And vows to be revenged upon us both,
Into the council chamber he is gone,
To crave the aide and succour of his peers,
Aye me, see where he comes, and they with him,
Now Mortimer begins our tragedy.
Enter the king, with the lords.
Lords. :
Fear not my lord, know that you are a king.
King. :
Villain.
Mort. iu. :
How now my lord?
King. :
think not that I am frighted with thy words,
My father is murdered through thy treachery,
And thou shalt die, and on his mournful hearse,
Thy hateful and accursed head shall lie,
To witness to the world, that by thy means,
His kingly body was too soon interred.
Qu. :
Weep not sweet son.
King. :
Forbid not me to weep, he was my father,
And had you loved him half so well as I,
You could not bear his death thus patiently,
But you I fear, conspired with Mortimer.
Lords. :
Why speak you not
unto my lord the king?
Mor. iu. :
Because I think scorn to be accused,
Who is the man dare say I murdered him?
King. :
Traitor, in me my loving father speaks,
And plainly saith, it was
thou that murderedest him.
Mort. iu. :
But hath your grace no other proof than this?
King. :
Yes, if this be the hand of Mortimer.
Mortim. iu. :
False Gurney hath betrayed
me and himself.
Queen. :
I feared as much, murther cannot be hid.
Mort. iu. :
It is my hand, what gather you by this.
King. :
That thither thou didst send a murtherer.
Mort. iu. :
What murtherer? bring forth the man I sent.
King. :
Ah Mortimer,
thou knowest that he is slain,
And so shalt thou be too: why stays he here?
Bring him unto a hurdle, drag him forth,
Hang him I say, and set his quarters up,
But bring his head back presently to me.
Queen. :
For my sake sweet son pity
Mortimer.
Mort. iu. :
Madam, entreat not, I will rather die,
Than sue for life unto a paltry boy.
King. :
Hence with the traitor, with the murderer.
Mort. iu. :
Base fortune, now I see, that in thy wheel
There is a point, to which when men aspire,
They tumble headlong down, that point I touched,
And seeing there was no place to mount
up higher,
Why should I grieve at my declining fall,
Farewell fair Queen, weep not for
Mortimer,
That scorns the world, and as a traveller,
Goes to discover countries yet unknown.
King. :
What, suffer you the traitor to delay?
Queen. :
As thou receivedest thy life from me,
Spill not the blood of gentle Mortimer.
King. :
This argues, that you spilt my fathers blood,
Else would you not entreat for Mortimer.
Queen. :
I spill his blood? no.
King. :
aye madam you, for so the rumour runs.
Queen. :
That rumour is untrue, for loving thee,
Is this report raised on poor Isabel.
King. :
I do not think her so unnatural.
Lords. :
My lord, I fear me it will prove too true.
King. :
Mother, you are suspected for his death,
And therefore we commit you to the Tower,
Till further trial may be made thereof,
If you be guilty, though I be your son,
think not to find me slack or pitiful.
Qu:
Nay, to my death, for too long have I lived,
When as my son thinks to abridge my days.
King. :
Away with her, her words enforce these tears,
And I shall pity her if she speak again.
Queen. :
Shall I not mourn for my beloved lord?
And with the rest accompany him to his grave.
Lords. :
Thus madam, it is the kings will you shall hence.
Quee. :
He hath forgotten me, stay, I am his mother.
Lords. :
That boots not, therefore gentle madam go.
Queen. :
Then come sweet death, and rid me of this grief.
Lords. :
My lord, here is the head of Mortimer.
King. :
Go fetch my fathers hearse, where it shall lie,
And bring my funeral robes: accursed head,
Could I have ruled thee then, as I do now,
Thou hadst not hatched this monstrous treachery?
Here comes the hearse, help me to mourn my lords,
Sweet father here, unto thy murdered ghost,
I offer up this wicked traitors head,
And let these tears distilling from mine eyes,
Be witness of my grief and innocendead sea,
Whereof we got the name of Mortimer,
Will I advance upon this castle walls,
Drums strike alarum, raise them from their sport,
And ring aloud the knell of Gaueston.
Lanc. :
None be so hardy as to touch the King,
But neither spare you Gaueston, nor his friends.
Exeunt.
Enter the king and Spencer, to them Gaueston,
Edw. :
O tell me Spencer, where is
Gaueston?
Spen. :
I fear me he is slain my gracious lord.
Edw. :
No, here he comes, now let them spoil and kill:
Fly, fly, my lords, the earls have got the hold,
Take shipping and away to Scarborough,
Spencer and I will post away by land.
Gau. :
O stay my lord, they will not injure you.
Edw. :
I will not trust them, Gaueston away.
Gau. :
Farewell my Lord.
Edw. :
Lady, farewell.
Lad. :
Farewell sweet uncle till we meet again.
Edw. :
Farewell sweet Gaueston, and farewell Niece.
Qu. :
No farewell, to poor Isabell, thy Queen?
Edw. :
Yes, yes, for Mortimer your lovers sake.
Exeunt omnes, manet Isabella.
Qu. :
Heavens can witness, I love none but you,
From my embracements thus he breaks away,
O that mine arms could close this Isle about,
That I might pull him to me where I would,
Or that these tears that drizzle from mine eyes,
Had power to mollify his stony heart,
That when I had him we might never part.
Enter the Barons alarums.
Lan. :
I wonder how he scaped.
Mor. iu. :
Who is this, the Queen?
Qu. :
aye Mortimer, the miserable Queen,
Whose pining heart, her inward sighs have blasted,
And body with continual morning wasted:
These hands are tired, with haling of my lord
From Gaueston, from wicked
Gaueston,
And all in vain, for when I speak him fair,
He turns away, and smiles upon his minion.
Mor. iu. :
Cease to lament, and tell us where is the king?
Qu. :
What would you with the king, is it him you seek?
Lan. :
No madam, but that cursed Gaueston,
Far be it from the thought of Lancaster,
To offer violence to his sovereign,
We would but rid the realm of Gaueston,
Tell us where he remains, and he shall die.
Qu. :
He has gone by water
unto Scarborough,
Pursue him quickly, and he cannot scape,
The king hath left him, and his train is small.
War. :
Foreslow no time, sweet Lancaster let us march.
Mor. :
How comes it, that the king and he is parted?
Qu. :
That this your army going several ways,
Might be of lesser source, and with the power
That he intendeth presently to raise,
Be easily suppressed: and therefore be gone.
Mor. :
Here in the river rides a Flemish hoy,
Let us all aboard, and follow him amain.
Lan. :
The wind that bears him hence, will fill our sails,
Come, come aboard, it is but an hours sailing.
Mor. :
Madam, stay you within this castle here.
Qu. :
No Mortimer, I will to my lord the king.
Mor. :
Nay, rather sail with us to Scarborough.
Qu. :
You know the king is so suspicious,
As if he hear I
have but talked with you,
Mine honour will be called in question,
And therefore gentle Mortimer be gone.
Mor. :
Madam, I cannot stay to answer you,
But think of Mortimer
as he deserves.
Qu. :
So well hast thou deserved sweet Mortimer,
As Isaebell could live with
thee for ever,
In vain I look
for love at Edwards hand,
Whose eyes are fixed on none but Gaueston:
Yet once more I will importune him with prayers,
If he be strange and not regard my words,
My son and I will
over into France,
And to the king my brother there complain,
How Gaueston hath robbed me of his
love:
But yet I hope my sorrows will have end,
And Gaueston this blessed day be slain.
Exeunt.
Enter Gaueston pursued.
Gau. :
Yet lusty lords I have escaped your hands,
Your threats, your larums, and your hot pursuits,
And though divorced from king Edwards eyes,
Yet liveth Pierce of
Gaueston unsurprised,
Breathing, in hope ( malgrado all your beards,
That muster rebels thus against your king)
To see his royal sovereign once again.
Enter the Nobles.
War. :
Upon him soldiers, take away his weapons.
Mor. :
Thou proud disturber of thy countries peace,
Corrupter of thy king, cause of these broils,
Base flatterer, yield, and were it not for shame,
Shame and dishonour to a soldiers name,
Upon my weapons point here shouldest thou fall,
And welter in thy gore.
Lan. :
Monster of men, that like the Greekish strumpet
Trained to arms and bloody wars,
So many valiant knights,
Look for no other
fortune wretch than death,
Kind Edward is not here to buckler thee.
War. :
Lancaster, why talkest thou to the slave?
Go soldiers take him hence,
For by my sword, his head shall off:
Gaueston, short warning shall serve thy turn:
It is our countries cause,
That here severally we will execute,
Upon thy person: hang him at a bough:
Gau. :
My Lord.
War. :
Soldiers, have him away:
But for thou wert the favourite of a King,
Thou shalt have so much honour at our hands.
Gau. :
I thank you all my lords, then I perceive,
That heading is one, and hanging is the other,
And death is all.
Enter earl of Arundell.
Lan. :
How now my lord of Arundell?
Arun. :
My lords, king Edward greets you all by me.
War. :
Arundell, say your message.
Aru. :
His majesty, hearing that you had taken Gaueston,
entreateth you by me, yet but he may
See him before he dies, for why he says,
And sends you word, he knows that die he shall,
And if you gratify his grace so far,
He will be mindful of the courtesy.
Warw. :
How now?
Gau. :
Renowned Edward, how thy name
Revives poor Gaueston.
War. :
No, it needeth not,
Arundell, we will gratify the king
In other matters, he must pardon us in this,
Soldiers away with him.
Gavest:
Why my Lord of Warwicke,
Will not these delays beget my hopes?
I know it lords, it is this life you aim at,
Yet grant king Edward this.
Mor. iu. :
Shalt thou appoint what we shall grant?
Soldiers away with him:
Thus we will gratify the king,
We will send his
head by thee, let him bestow
His tears on that, for that is all he gets
Of Gaueston, or else his senseless trunk.
Lan. :
Not so my Lord, least he bestow more cost,
In burying him, than
he hath ever earned.
Arun. :
My lords, it is his majesties request,
And in the honour of a king he swears,
He will but talk with him and
send him back.
War. :
When can you tell? Arundell no, we wot,
He that the care of realm remits,
And drives his nobles to these exigents
For Gaueston, will if he seize him once,
Violate any promise to possess him.
Arun. :
Then if you will not trust his grace in keep,
My lords, I will be pledge for his return.
Mor. iu. :
It is honourable in thee to offer this,
But for we know thou art a noble gentleman,
We will not wrong thee so,
To make away a true man for a thief.
Gave. :
How meanest thou Mortimer? that
is over base.
Mor. :
Away base groom, robber of kings renown,
Question with thy companions and thy mates.
Pen. :
My lord Mortimer, and you my lords each one,
To gratify the kings request therein,
Touching the sending of this Gaueston,
Because his majesty so earnestly
Desires to see the man before his death,
I will upon mine honour undertake
To carry him, and bring him back again,
Provided this, that you my lord of Arundell
Will join with me.
War. :
Penbrooke, what wilt thou do?
Cause yet more bloodshed: is it not enough
That we have taken him, but must we now
Leave him on had I wist, and let him go?
Pen. :
My lords, I will not over woo your honours,
But if you dare trust Penbrooke with the prisoner,
Upon mine oath I will return him back.
Arun. :
My lord of Lancaster, what say you in this?
Lan. :
Why I say, let him go on Penbrookes word.
Pen. :
And you lord Mortimer.
Mor. iu. :
How say you my lord of Warwick.
War. :
Nay, do your pleasures,
I know how it will prove.
Pen. :
Then give him me.
Gau. :
Sweet sovereign, yet I come
To see thee ere I die.
Warw. :
Yet not perhaps,
If Warwickes wit and policy prevail.
Mor. iu. :
My lord of Penbrooke, we deliver him you,
Return him on your honour, sound away.
Exeunt.
Manent Penbrooke, Mat. Gavest. and Penbrookes men, four
soldiers.
Pen. :
My Lord, you shall go with me,
My house is not far hence out of the way,
A little, but our men shall go along,
We that have
pretty wenches to our wives,
Sir, must not come so near and balk their lips.
Mat. :
It is very kindly spoke
my lord of Penbrooke,
Your honour hath an adamant of power,
To draw a prince.
Pen. :
So my lord, come hither Iames,
I do commit this Gaueston to thee,
Be thou this night his keeper, in the morning
We will discharge thee of thy charge, be
gone.
Gau. :
Unhappy Gaueston, whether goest thou now.
Exit cum seruis Pen.
Horse boy. :
My lord, we will
quickly be at Cobham.
Exeunt ambo.
Enter Gaueston moorning, and the earl of Penbrookes men.
Gave. :
O treacherous Warwicke thus to wrong thy friend!
Iames. :
I see it is your life these arms pursue.
Gau. :
Weaponless must I fall and die in bands,
O must this day be period of my life!
Centre of all my bliss, and ye be men,
Speed to the king.
Enter Warwicke and his company.
War. :
My lord of Penbrookes men,
Strive you no longer, I will have
that Gaueston.
Iam. :
Your lordship doth dishonour to yourself,
And wrong our lord, your honourable friend.
War. :
No Iames, it is my countries cause I follow,
go, take the villain, soldiers come away,
We will make quick work,
commend me to your master
My friend, and tell him that I watched it well,
Come, let thy shadow parley with king Edward.
Gau. :
Treacherous earl, shall I not see the king?
War. :
The king of heaven perhaps, no other king, Away.
Exeunt Warwike and his men, with Gavest.
Manet Iames cum caeteris.
Come fellows, it booted not for us to strive,
We will in haste go certify our Lord.
Exeunt.
Enter king Edward and Spencer, with Drums and Fifes.
Edw. :
I long to hear an answer from the Barons
Touching my friend, my dearest Gaueston,
Ah Spencer, not the riches of my realm
Can ransom him, ah he is marked to die,
I know the malice of the younger Mortimer,
Warwick I know is rough, and Lancaster
Inexorable, and I shall never see
My lovely Pierce, my
Gaueston again,
The Barons overbear me with their pride.
Spencer. :
Were I king Edward England's sovereign,
Son to the lovely
Elenor of Spain,
Great Edward Longshankes issue: would I bear
These braves, this rage, and suffer uncontrolled
These Barons thus to beard me in my land,
In mine own realm? my lord pardon my speech,
Did you retain your fathers magnanimity?
Did you regard the honour of your name?
You would not suffer thus your majesty
Be counterbuffed of your nobility,
Strike off their heads, and let them preach on poles,
No doubt, such lessons they will teach the rest,
As by their preachments they will profit much,
And learn obedience to their lawful king.
Edw. :
Yea gentle Spencer, we
have been too mild,
Too kind to them, but now have drawn our sword,
And if they send me not my Gaueston,
We will steel it on
their crest, and poll their tops.
Bald. :
This haught resolve becomes your majesty,
Not to be tied to their affection,
As though your highness were a school boy still,
And must be awed and governed like a child.
Enter Hugh Spencer an old man, father to the young Spencer,
with his truncheon, and soldiers.
Spen. pa. :
Long live my sovereign the noble
Edward,
In peace triumphant, fortunate in wars.
Edw. :
Welcome old man, comest thou in Edwards aide?
Then tell thy prince, of whence, and what thou art.
Spen. pa. :
Lo, with a band of bowmen and of pikes,
Browne bills, and targetiers, 400 strong,
Sworn to defend king Edwards royal right,
I come in person to your majesty,
Spencer, the father of Hugh Spencer there,
Bound to your highness everlastingly,
For favours done in him, unto us all.
Edw. :
Thy father Spencer?
Spen. filius. :
True, if it like your grace,
That powers in lieu of all your goodness shown,
His life my lord, before your princely feet.
Edw. :
Welcome ten thousand times, old man again,
Spencer, this love, this kindness to thy King,
Argues thy noble mind and disposition:
Spencer, I here create thee earl of Wilshire,
And daily will enrich thee with our favour,
That as the sunshine shall reflect over thee:
Beside, the more to manifest our love,
Because we hear Lord Bruse
doth sell his land,
And that the Mortimers are in hand withal,
Thou shalt have crowns of
us, to out bid the Barons,
And Spenser, spare them not, but lay it on.
Soldiers a largess, and thrice welcome all.
Spen. :
My lord, here comes the Queen.
Enter the Queen and her son, and Lewne a Frenchman.
Edw. :
Madam, what news?
Qu. :
News of dishonour lord, and discontent,
Our friend Lewne, faithful and full of trust,
Informeth us by letters and by words,
That lord Valoyes our brother, king of France,
Because your highness hath been slack in homage,
Hath seized Normandy into his hands,
These be the letters, this the messenger.
Edw. :
Welcome Lewne, tush
Sib, if this be all,
Valoys and I will soon be
friends again,
But to my Gaueston: shall
I never see,
Never behold thee now? Madam in this matter
We will employ you and your little son,
You shall go parley with the king of France,
Boy, see you bear you bravely to the king,
And do your message with a majesty.
Prin. :
Commit not to my youth things of more weigh
Than fits a prince so young as I to bear,
And fear not lord and father, heavens great beams
On Atlas shoulder, shall not lie more safe,
Than shall your charge committed to my trust.
Qu. :
ah boy, this towardness makes thy mother fear
Thou art not marked to many days on earth.
Edw. :
Madam, we will that you with speed be shipped,
And this our son,
Lewne shall follow you,
With all the haste we can dispatch him hence,
Choose of our lords to bear you company,
And go in peace, leave us in wars at home.
Qu. :
Unnatural wars, where subjects brave their king,
God end them once, my lord I take my leave,
To make my preparation for France.
Enter lord Matre.
Edw. :
What lord Matre. dost thou come alone?
Mat. :
Yea my good lord, for Gaueston is dead.
Edw. :
Ah traitors, have they put my friend to death,
Tell me Matre. died he ere thou camest,
Or didst thou see my friend to take his death?
Matr. :
Neither my lord, for as he was surprised,
Begirt with weapons, and with enemies round,
I did your highness message to them all,
Demanding him of them, entreating rather,
And said, upon the honour of my name,
That I would undertake to carry him
Unto your highness, and to bring him back.
Edw. :
And tell me, would the rebels deny me that?
Spen. :
Proud recreants.
Edw. :
Yea Spencer, traitors all.
Matr. :
I found them at the first inexorable,
The earl of Warwick would not bide the hearing,
Mortimer hardly, Penbrooke
and Lancaster
Spake least: and when they flatly had denied,
Refusing to receive me pledge for him,
The earl of Penbrooke mildly thus bespake.
My lords, because our sovereign sends for him,
And promiseth he shall be safe returned,
I will this undertake, to have him hence,
And see him redelivered to your hands.
Edw. :
Well, and how fortunes that he came not?
Spen. :
Some treason, or some villainy was cause.
Mat. :
The earl of Warwick seized him on his way,
For being delivered unto
Penbrookes men,
Their lord rode home, thinking his prisoner safe,
But ere he came, Warwick in ambush lay,
And bare him to his death, and in a trench
Strake off his head, and marched unto the camp.
Spen. :
A bloody part, flatly against law of arms.
Edw. :
O shall I speak, or shall I sigh and die!
Spen. :
My lord, refer your vengeance to the sword,
Upon these Barons, hearten
up your men,
Let them not unrevenged murther your friends,
Advance your standard Edward in the field,
And march to sire them from their starting holes.
Edward kneels, and saith.
By earth, the common mother of us all,
By heaven, and all the moving orbs thereof,
By this right hand, and by my fathers sword,
And all the honours longing to my crown,
I will have heads, and
lives for him as many,
As I have manors, castles, towns, and towers,
Treacherous Warwicke, traitorous
Mortimer:
If I be England's king, in lakes of gore
Your headless trunks, your bodies will I trail,
That you may drink your fill, and quaff in blood,
And stain my royal standard with the same,
That so my bloody colours may suggest
Remembrance of revenge immortally,
On your accursed traitorous progeny:
You villains that have
slain my Gaueston,
And in this place of honour and of trust,
Spencer, sweet Spencer,
I adopt thee here,
And merely of our love we do create thee
Earl of Gloster, and lord Chamberlain,
Despite of times, despite of enemies.
Spen. :
My lord, here is is a messenger from the Barons,
Desires access unto your majesty.
Edw. :
Admit him near.
Enter the Herald from the Barons, with his coat of arms.
Messen. :
Long live king Edward,
England's lawful lord.
Edw. :
So wish not they I wish that sent thee hither,
Thou comest from Mortimer and his complices,
A ranker route of rebels never was:
Well, say thy message.
Messen. :
The Barons up in arms, by me salute
Your highness, with long life and happiness,
And bid me say as plainer to your grace,
That if without effusion of blood,
You will this grief have ease and remedy,
That from your princely person you remove
This Spencer, as a putrefying branch,
That deads the royal vine, whose golden leaves
Impale your princely head, your diadem,
Whose brightness such pernicious upstarts dim,
Say they, and lovingly advise your grace,
To cherish virtue and nobility,
And have old servitors in high esteem,
And shake off smooth dissembling flatterers:
This granted, they, their honours, and their lives,
Are to your highness vowed and consecrate.
Spen. :
A traitors, will they still display their pride?
Edw. :
Away, tarry no answer, but be gone,
Rebels, will they appoint their sovereign
His sports, his pleasures, and his company:
Yet ere thou go, see how I do divorce
Embrace Spencer.
Spencer from me: now get thee to thy lords,
And tell them I will come to chastise them,
For murthering Gaueston: hie thee, get thee gone,
Edward with fire and sword, follows at thy heels,
My lord, perceive you how these rebels swell:
Soldiers, good hearts, defend your sovereigns right,
For now, even now,
we march to make them stoop,
Away.
Exeunt.
Alarums, excursions, a great fight, and a retreat.
Enter the king, Spencer the father, Spencer the son,
and the noblemen of the kings side.
Edw. :
Why do we sound retreat? upon them lords,
This day I shall pour vengeance with my sword
On those proud rebels that are up in arms,
And do confront and countermand their king.
Spen. son. :
I doubt it not my lord, right will prevail.
Spen. fa. :
It is not amiss my liege for either part,
To breathe a while, our men with sweat and dust
All choked well near, begin to faint for heat,
And this retire refresheth horse and man.
Spen. son. :
Here come the rebels.
Enter the Barons, Mortimer, Lancaster, Warwick,
Penbrooke, cum caeteris.
Mor. :
Look Lancaster,
yonder is Edward among his flatterers.
Lan. :
And there let him be, till
he pay dearly for their company.
War. :
And shall or Warwicks sword
shall smite in vain.
Edw. :
What rebels, do you shrink, and sound retreat?
Mor. iu. :
No Edward, no, thy flatterers faint and fly.
Lan. :
thou had best betimes forsake thee and their trains,
For they will betray
thee, traitors as they are.
Spen. so. :
Traitor on thy face, rebellious Lancaster.
Pen. :
Away base upstart, bravest thou nobles thus.
Spen. fa. :
A noble attempt, and honourable deed,
Is it not trow ye, to assemble aide,
And levy arms against your lawful king?
Edw. :
For which ere long, their heads shall satisfy,
To appease the wrath of their offended king.
Mor. iu. :
Then Edward, thou wilt fight it to the last,
And rather bathe thy sword in subjects blood,
than banish that pernicious company.
Edw. :
aye traitors all, rather
than thus be braved,
Make England's civil towns huge heaps of stones,
And ploughs to go about our palace gates.
War. :
A desperate and unnatural resolution,
Alarum to the fight, saint George for England,
And the Barons right.
Edw. :
Saint. George for England, and king Edwards right.
Enter Edward, with the Barons captives.
Edw. :
Now lusty lords, now not by chance of war,
But justice of the quarrel and the cause
Veiled is your pride, methinks you hang the head
But we will advance
them traitors, now it is time
To be avenged on you for all your braves,
And for the murther of my dearest friend,
To whom right well you knew our soul was knit,
Good Pierce of
Gaueston my sweet favourite,
Ah rebels, recreants, you made him away.
Edm. :
Brother, in regard of thee and of thy land,
Did they remove that flatterer from thy throne.
Edw. :
So sir, you have spoke, away, avoid our presence,
Accursed wretches, wast in regard of us,
When we had sent our messenger to request
He might be spared to come to speak
with us,
And Penbrooke undertook for his return,
That thou proud Warwicke watched the prisoner,
Poor Pierce, and headed him against law of arms,
For which thy head shall over look the rest.
As much as thou in rage out wentest the rest?
War. :
Tyrant, I scorn thy threats and menaces,
It is but temporal that thou canst inflict.
Lan. :
The worst is death, and better die to live,
Than live in infamy
under such a king.
Edw. :
Away with them my lord of Winchester,
These lusty leaders Warwicke and Lancaster,
I charge you roundly off with both their heads, away.
War. :
Farewell vain world.
Lan. :
Sweet Mortimer farewell.
Mor. iu. :
England, unkind to thy nobility,
Groan for this grief, behold how thou art maimed.
Edw. :
Go take that haughty Mortimer to the tower,
There see him safe bestowed, and for the rest,
Do speedy execution on them all, be gone.
Mor. iu. :
What Mortimer? can ragged stony wall
Immure thy virtue that aspires to heaven,
No Edward, England's scourge, it may not be,
Mortimers hope surmounts his fortune far.
Edw. :
Sound drums and trumpets, march with me my friends,
Edward this day hath crowned him king a new.
Exit.
Manent Spencer filius, Lewne and Baldock.
Spen. :
Lewne, the trust that we repose in thee,
Begets the quiet of king Edwards land,
Therefore be gone in
haste, and with advice,
Bestow that treasure on the lords of France,
That therewith all enchanted like the guard,
That suffered Jove to
pass in showers of gold
To Danae, all aide may be denied
To Isabell the Queen, that now in France
Makes friends, to cross the seas with her
young son,
And step into his fathers regiment.
Levune. :
that is it these Barons and the subtle Queen,
Long levied at.
Bald. :
Yea, but Lewne thou seest,
These Barons lay their heads on blocks together,
What they intend, the hangman frustrates clean.
Lewn. :
Have you no doubts
my lords, I will claps close,
Among the lords of France with England's gold,
That Isabell shall make her plaints in vain,
And France shall be obdurate with her tears.
Spen. :
Then make for France, amain Lewne away,
Proclaim king Edwards wars and victories.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Edmund.
Edm. :
fair blows the wind for France,
blow gentle gale,
Till Edmund be arrived for England's good,
Nature, yield to my countries cause in this,
A brother, no, a butcher of thy friends,
Proud Edward, dost thou banish me thy presence?
But I will to France, and cheer the wronged Queen,
And certify what Edwards looseness is,
Unnatural king, to slaughter noble men
And cherish flatterers: Mortimer I stay
Thy sweet escape, stand gracious gloomy night to his device.
Enter Mortimer disguised.
Mor. iu. :
Holla, who walketh there, is it you my lord?
Edm. :
Mortimer it is I, but hath thy
potion wrought so happily?
Mor. iu. :
It hath my lord, the warders all a sleep,
I thank them, gave me leave to pass in peace:
But hath your grace got shipping unto France?
Edm. :
Fear it not.
Exeunt.
Enter the Queen and her son.
Qu. :
Ah boy, our friends do fail us all in France,
The lords are cruel, and the king unkind,
What shall we do?
Prince. :
Madam, return to England,
And please my father well, and then a Fig
For all my uncles friendship here in France,
I warrant you, I will win his highness quickly,
He loves me better than a
thousand Spencers.
Qu. :
Ah boy, thou art deceived at least in this,
To think that we can yet be tuned together,
No, no, we war too far, unkind Valoys,
Unhappy Isabell, when France rejects,
Whether, O whether dost thou bend thy steps.
Enter sir Iohn of Henolt.
S. Ioh. :
Madam, what cheer?
Qu. :
Ah good sir Iohn of
Henolt,
Never so cheerless, nor so far distressed.
S. Ioh. :
I hear sweet lady of the kings unkindness,
But droop not madam, noble minds contemn
Despair: will your grace with me to Henolt?
And there stay times advantage with your son,
How say you my Lord, will you go with your friends,
And shake off all our fortunes equally.
Prin. :
So pleaseth the Queen my mother, me it likes,
The king of England, nor the court of France,
Shall have me from my gracious mothers side,
Till I be strong enough to break a staff,
And then have at the proudest
Spencers head.
Sir Iohn. :
Well said my lord.
Qu. :
O my sweet heart, how do I moan thy wrongs?
Yet triumph in the hope of thee my joy,
Ah sweet sir Iohn, even to the utmost verge
Of Europe, or the shore of
Tanaise,
Will we with thee to Henolt,
so we will,
The Marquis is a noble Gentleman,
His grace I dare presume will welcome me,
But who are these?
Enter Edmund and Mortimer.
Edm. :
Madam, long may you live,
Much happier than your friends in England do.
Qu. :
Lord Edmund and lord
Mortimer alive,
Welcome to France: the news was here my lord,
That you were dead, or very near your death.
Mor. iu. :
Lady, the last was truest of the twain,
But Mortimer reserved for better hap,
Hath shaken off the thralldom of the tower,
And lives to advance your standard good my lord.
Prin. :
How mean you, and the king my father lives?
No my lord Mortimer, not I, I trow.
Qu. :
Not son, why not? I would it were no worse,
But gentle lords, friendless we are in France.
Mor. iu. :
Monsieur le Grand, a noble friend of yours,
Told us at our arrival all the news,
How hard the nobles, how unkind the king
Hath showed himself: but madam, right makes room,
Where weapons want, and though a many friends
Are made away, as Warwick, Lancaster,
And others of our party and faction,
Yet have we friends, assure your grace in England,
Would cast up caps, and clap their hands for joy,
To see us there appointed for our foes.
Edm. :
Would all were well, and Edward well reclaimed,
For England's honour, peace, and quietness.
Mort. :
But by the sword, my lord, it must be deserved.
The king will never forsake his flatterers.
S. Ioh. :
My Lords of England, sith the ungentle king
Of France refuseth to give aide of arms,
To this distressed Queen his sister here,
Go you with her to Henolt,
doubt ye not,
We will find comfort, money, men, and friends
Ere long, to bid the English king a base,
How say young Prince, what think you of the match?
Prin. :
I think king Edward will
out run us all.
Qu. :
Nay son, not so, and you must not discourage
Your friends that are so forward in your aide.
Edm. :
Sir Iohn of Henolt, pardon us I pray,
These comforts that you give our woeful queen,
Bind us in kindness all at your command.
Qu. :
Yea gentle brother, and the God of heaven,
Prosper your happy motion good sir Iohn.
Mor. iu. :
This noble gentleman forward in arms,
Was born I see to be our anchor hold,
Sir Iohn of Henolt,
be it thy renown,
That England's Queen, and nobles in distress,
Have been by thee restored and comforted.
S. Iohn. :
Madam along, and you my lord with me,
That England's
peers may Henolts welcome see.
Enter the king, Matr. the two Spencers, with others.
Edw. :
Thus after many threats of wrathful war,
Triumpheth England's Edward with his friends,
And triumph Edward with his friends uncontrolled,
My lord of Gloster, do you hear the news?
Spen. iu. :
What news my lord?
Edw. :
Why man, they say there is great execution
Done through the realm, my lord of Arundell
You have the note,
have you not?
Matr. :
From the lieutenant of the tower my lord.
Edw. :
I pray let us see it,
what have we there?
Read it Spencer.
Spencer reads their names.
Why so, they barked a pace a month ago,
Now on my life, they will neither bark nor bite.
Now sirs, the news from France, Gloster I trow,
The lords of France love England's gold so well,
As Isabell gets no aide from thence.
What now remains, have you proclaimed, my lord,
Reward for them can bring in Mortimer?
Spen. iu. :
My lord, we have, and if he be in England,
He will be had ere long I doubt it not.
Edw. :
If; dost thou say? Spencer,
as true as death,
He is in England's ground, our portmasters
Are not so careless of their kings command.
Enter a Poaste.
How now, what news with thee, from whence come these?
Post. :
Letters my lord, and tidings forth of France,
To you my lord of Gloster from Lewne.
Edward. :
Read.
Spencer reads the letter.
My duty to your honour promised, I have according to instructions in that behalf,
dealt with the king of France his lords, and affected, that
the Queen all discontented and discomforted, is gone, whither if
you ask, with sir Iohn
of Henolt, brother to the Marquess,
into Flaunders: with them are gone lord Edmund,
and the lord Mortimer, having in their
company divers of your nation, and others, and as constant report
goeth, they intend to give king
Edward battle in England, sooner than
he can look for them: this is all
the news of import.
Your honours in all service, Lewne.
Edw. :
Ah villains, hath that
Mortimer escaped?
With him is Edmund gone associate?
And will sir Iohn
of Henolt lead the round?
Welcome in Gods name Madam and
your son,
England shall welcome you, and all your route,
Gallop apace 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 desired day,
When we may meet these 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,
As you injurious were to bear them forth.
Enter the Queen, her son, Edmund, Mortimer, and sir Iohn.
Qu. :
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 glove,
In civil broils makes kin and country men,
Slaughter themselves in others and their sides
With their own weapons gored,
but what is the help?
Misgoverned kings are cause of all this wrack,
And Edward thou art one among them all,
Whose looseness hath betrayed thy land to spoil,
And made the channels overflow with blood,
Of thine own people patron shouldest thou be, but thou.
Mor. iu. :
Nay madam, if you be a warier,
Ye must not grow so passionate in speeches:
Lords, sith that we are by sufferance of heaven,
Arrived and armed in this princes right,
Here for our
countries cause swear we to him
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 wreck it with the swords:
That England's queen in peace may repossess
Her dignities and honours, and withal
We may remove these flatterers from the king,
That havocs England's wealth and treasury.
S. Io. :
Sound trumpets my lord and forward let us march,
Edward will think
we come to flatter him.
Edm. :
I would he never had
been flattered more.
Enter the King, Baldock, and Spencer the son,
flying about the stage.
Spe. :
Fly, fly, my Lord, the Queen is overstrong.
Her friends do multiply
and yours do fail,
Shape we our course to Ireland there to breath.
Edw. :
What, was I born to fly and run away,
And leave the Mortimers conquerors behind?
give me my horse and let us
reinforce our troupes,
And in this bed of honour die with fame.
Bal. :
O no my lord, this princely resolution
Fits not the time, away, we are pursued.
Edmund alone with a sword and target.
Edm. :
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?
Vild wretch, and why hast thou of all unkind,
Borne arms against thy brother and thy king?
Reign 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 Isabell 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 Longshankes blood
Is false, be not found single for suspect:
Proud Mortimer pries near into thy walks.
Enter the Queen, Mortimer, the young Prince and Sir Iohn of Henolt.
Qu. :
Successful battles gives the God of kings,
To them that fight in right and fear his wrath:
Since then successfully we have prevailed,
Thanks be heavens 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.
Edm. :
Madam, without offence if I may ask,
How will you deal with Edward in his fall?
Prince. :
Tell me good uncle, what Edward
do you mean?
Edm. :
Nephew, your father, I dare not call him king.
Mor. :
My lord of Kent, what needs these questions?
It is 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, it is good to look to him betimes.
Qu. :
My lord, the Mayor of Bristow knows our mind.
Mor. :
Yea madam, and they scape not easily,
That fled the field.
Qu. :
Baldock is with the king,
A goodly chancellor, is he not my lord?
S. Ioh. :
So are the Spencers, the father
and the son.
Edm. :
This Edward is the ruin of the realm.
Enter Rice ap Howell, and the Mayor of Bristow,
with Spencer the father.
Rice. :
God save Queen Isabell,
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,
Reveled in England's wealth and treasury.
Qu. :
We thank you all.
Mor. iu. :
Your loving care in this,
Deserveth princely favours and rewards,
But where is the king and
the other Spencer fled?
Rice. :
Spencer the son, created earl of Gloster,
Is with that smooth tongued scholar Baldock gone,
And shipped but late for Ireland with the king.
Mort. iu. :
Some whirl wind fetch them back, or sink them all:
They shall be started thence I doubt it not.
Prin. :
Shall I not see the king my father yet?
Edmund. :
Unhappy is Edward, chaste from England's bounds.
S. Ioh. :
Madam, what resteth, why stand ye in a muse?
Qu. :
I rue my lords ill fortune, but alas,
Care of my country called me to this war.
Mort. :
Madam, have done with care and sad complain,
Your king hath wronged your country and himself,
And we must seek to right it as we may,
Mean while, have hence this rebel to the block,
Your lordship cannot privilege your head.
Spen. pa. :
Rebel is he that fights against his prince,
So fought not they that fought in
Edwards right.
Mort. :
Take him away, he prates, 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 mean while madam, must take advise,
How Baldocke, Spencer, and their complices,
May in their fall be followed to their end.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter the Abbot, Monks, Edward, Spencer, and Baldocke.
Abbot. :
Have you no doubt my Lord,
have you no fear,
As silent and as careful will we 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.
Edwa. :
Father, thy face should harbour no deceit,
O hadst thou ever been a king, thy heart
Pierced deeply with 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
Baldocke, come sit down by me,
Make trial now of that philosophy,
That in our famous nurseries of arts
Thou suckedest from Plato, and from
Aristotle.
Father, this life contemplative is heaven,
O that I might this life in quiet lead,
But we alas are chaste, 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.
Monks. :
Your grace may sit secure, if none but we do wot of your abode.
Spen. :
Not one alive, but shrewdly I suspect,
A gloomy fellow in a mead below,
He 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.
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!
Spen. son. :
Look up my lord.
Baldock, this drowsiness
Betides no good, here even
we are betrayed.
Enter with Welsh hooks, Rice vp Howell, a Mower,
and the Earl of Leicester.
Mower. :
Upon my life, those be the men ye see
Rice. :
Fellow enough, my lord I pray be short,
A fair commission warrants what we do.
Lei. :
The Queens commission, urged by Mortimer,
What cannot 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 supebum,
Hunc dies vidit fugiens iacentem
But Leister leave to grow so passionate,
Spencer and
Baldocke, by no other names,
I arrest you of high treason here,
Stand not on titles, but obey the arrest,
It is in the name of
Isabell the queen:
My lord, why droop you thus?
Edw. :
O day! the last of all my bliss on earth;
Centre of all misfortune. O my stars!
Why do you lower unkindly on a king?
Comes Leister then in Isabellas 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 friends.
Rice. :
Away with them.
Spen. iu. :
It may be come thee yet,
To let us take our farewell of his grace.
Abbot. :
My heart with pity earns to see this sight,
A king to bear these words and proud commands.
Edw. :
Spencer, a sweet Spencer,
thus then must we part.
Spen. iu. :
We must my lord, so will the angry heavens.
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.
Edwa. :
In heaven we may, in earth
never shall we meet,
And Leister say, what shall become of us
Leist. :
Your majesty must go to Killingworth.
Edw. :
Must! it is somewhat hard, when kings must go.
Leist. :
Here is a letter ready for your grace,
That waits your pleasure, and the day grows old.
Rice. :
As good be gone, as stay and be beknighted.
Edw. :
A letter 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 Charons shore,
For friends hath Edward none, but these, and these,
And these must die under a tyrants sword.
Rice. :
My lord, be going, care not for these,
For we shall see them shorter by the heads.
Edw. :
Well, that shall be, shall be: part we must,
Sweet Spencer, gentle
Baldocke, part we must,
Hence fained weeds, unfeigned are my woes,
Father, farewell: Leister, thou stayest for me,
And go I must, life farewell with my friends.
Exeunt Edward and Leicester.
Spen. iu. :
O is he gone! is noble Edward gone,
Parted from hence, never
to see us more,
Rent sphere of heaven, and fire forsake thy orb,
Earth melt to air, gone is my sovereign,
Gone, gone alas, never to make return.
Bald. :
Spencer, I see our souls are fleeted hence,
We are deprived the sunshine of our life,
Make for a new life man, throw up thy eyes,
And heart and hand to heavens immortal throne,
Pay natures debt with cheerful countenance,
Reduce we all our lessons unto this,
To die sweet Spencer,
therefore live we all,
Spencer, all live to die, and rise to fall.
Rice. :
Come, come, keep these preachments till you come to the place appointed
You, and such as you are, have
made wise work in England.
Will your Lordships away?
Mower. :
Your worship I trust will remember me?
Rice. :
Remember thee fellow? what else,
Follow me to the town.
Enter the king, Leicester, with a Bishop for the crown.
Lei. :
Be patient good my lord, cease to lament,
Imagine Killingworth castle were your court,
And that you lay for pleasure here a space,
Not of compulsion or necessity.
Edw. :
Leister, if gentle words might comfort me,
Thy speeches long ago had eased my sorrows,
For king and loving hast thou always been:
The griefs of private men are soon allayed,
But not of kings, the forest deer being struck
runs to an herb that closeth up the wounds,
But when the imperial Lions flesh is gored,
He rends and tears it with his wrathful paw,
Highly scorning, that the lowly earth
Should drink his blood, mounts up into the air,
And so it fares with me, whose dauntless mind
The ambitious Mortimer would seek to curb,
And that unnatural queen false Isabell,
That thus hath pent and mewed me in a prison,
For such outrageous passions cloy my soul,
As with the wings of rancour and disdain,
Full often am I soaring up to heaven,
To plain me to the gods against them both.
But when I call to mind I am a king,
Methinks I should revenge me of the wrongs,
That Mortimer and
Isabell have done.
But what are kings, when regiment is gone,
But perfect shadows in a sunshine day?
My nobles rule, I bear the name of king,
I wear the crown, but am controlled by them,
By Mortimer, and my unconstant queen,
Who spots my nuptial bed with infamy,
Whilst I am lodged within this cave of care,
Where sorrow at my elbow still attends,
To company my heart with sad laments,
That bleeds within me for this strange exchange.
But tell me, must I now resign my crown,
To make usurping Mortimer a king?
Bish. :
Your grace mistakes, it is for Englands good,
And princely Edwards
right we crave the crown.
Edw. :
No, it is for
Mortimer, not Edwards head,
For he is a lamb, encompassed by wolves,
Which in a moment will abridge his life:
But if proud Mortimer do wear this crown,
Heavens turn it to a blaze of quenchless fire,
Or like the snaky wreath of Tisiphon,
Engirt the temples of his hateful head,
So shall not Englands Vines be perished,
But Edwards name survives, though
Edward dies.
Lei. :
My lord, why waste you thus the time away,
They stay your answer, will you yield your crown?
Edw. :
Ah Leister, way, how hardly I can brook
To lose my crown and kingdom, without cause,
To give ambitious
Mortimer my right,
That like a mountain overwhelms my bliss.
In which extreme my mind here murthered is:
But what the heavens appoint, I must obey,
Here, take my crown, the life of Edward too,
Two kings in England cannot reign at once:
But stay a while, let me be king till night,
That I may gaze upon this glittering crown,
So shall my eyes receive their last content,
My head, the latest honour dew to it,
And jointly both yield up their wished right.
Continue ever thou celestial sun,
Let never silent night possess this clime,
Stand still you watches of the element,
All times and seasons rest you at a stay,
That Edward may be still fair Englands king:
But days bright beams doth vanish fast away,
And needs I must resign my wished crown,
Inhuman creatures, nursed with Tigers milk,
Why gape you for your sovereigns overthrow?
My diadem I mean, and guiltless life,
See monsters see, I will wear
my crown again,
What, fear you not the fury of your king?
But hapless Edward, thou art fondly led,
They pass not for thy frowns as late they did,
But seeks to make a new elected king,
Which fills my mind with strange despairing thoughts,
Which thoughts are martyred with endless torments.
And in this torment, comfort find I none,
But that I feel the crown upon my head,
And therefore let me wear it yet a while.
Tru. :
My Lord, the parliament must have present news,
And therefore say, will you resign or no.
The king rageth.
Edw. :
I will not resign, but
whilst I live,
Traitors be gone, and
join you with Mortimer,
Elect, conspire, install, do what you will,
Their blood and yours shall seal these treacheries.
Bish. :
This answer we will
return, and so farewell.
Leist. :
Call them again my lord, and
speak them fair,
For if they go, the prince shall lose his right.
Edward. :
Call thou them back, I have
no power to speak.
Lei. :
My lord, the king is willing to resign.
Bish. :
If he be not, let him choose.
Edw. :
O would I might, but heavens and earth conspire
To make me miserable: here receive my crown,
Receive it? no, these innocent hands of mine
Shall not be guilty of so foul a crime,
He of you all that most desires my blood,
And will be called the murtherer of a king,
Take it: what are you moved, pity you me?
Then send for unrelenting Mortimer
And Isabel, whose eyes been turned to steel,
Will sooner sparkle fire than shed a tear:
Yet stay, for rather than
I will look on them,
Here, here: now sweet God of heaven,
Make me despise this transitory pomp,
And sit for aye enthronized in heaven,
Come death, and with thy fingers close my eyes,
Or if I live, let me forget
myself.
Enter Bartley.
Bartley. :
My lord.
Edw. :
Call me not lord,
Away, out of my sight, ah pardon me,
Grief makes me lunatic,
Let not that Mortimer
protect my son,
More safety is there in a Tigers jaws,
This his embracements, bear this to the queen,
Wet with my tears, and dried again with sighs,
If with the sight thereof she be not moved,
Return it back and dip it in my blood,
Commend me to my son, and bid him rule
Better than I, yet how
have I transgressed,
Unless it be with too much clemency?
Tru. :
And thus, most humbly do we take our leave.
Edward. :
Farewell, I know the next news that they bring,
Will be my death, and welcome shall it be,
To wretched men death is felicity.
Leist. :
An other post, what news brings he?
Edw. :
Such news as I expect, come Bartley, come,
And tell thy message to my naked breast.
Bart. :
My lord, think not a thought so villainous
Can harbour in a man of noble birth.
To do your highness service and devour,
And save you from your foes, Bartley would die.
Leist. :
My lord, the counsel of the Queen commands,
That I resign my charge.
Edw. :
And who must keep me now,
must you my lord?
Bart. :
Aye, my most gracious lord,
so it is decreed.
Edw. :
By Mortimer, whose name is written here,
Well may I rent his name, that rends my heart,
This poor revenge hath something eased my mind,
So may his limbs be torn, as is this paper,
Hear me immortal
Jove, and grant it too.
Bart. :
Your grace must hence with me
to Bartley straight.
Edw. :
Whether you will, all places are alike,
And every earth is fit for burial.
Leist. :
Favour him my lord, as much as lieth in you.
Bart. :
Even so betide my soul as I use him.
Edw. :
Mine enemy hath pitied my estate,
And that is the cause
that I am now removed.
Bartley. :
And thinks your grace that Bartley will
be cruel?
Edw. :
I know not, but of this am I assured,
That death ends all, and I can die but once,
Leicester, farewell.
Leicester. :
Not yet my lord, I will
bear you on your way.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Mortimer, and Queen Isabel.
Mor. iu. :
Fair Isabel, now
have we our desire,
The proud corrupters of the light-brained king,
Have done their homage to the lofty gallows,
And he himself lies in captivity,
Be ruled by me, and we will rule the realm,
In any case, take heed of childish fear,
For now we hold an old Wolf by the ears,
That if he flip will seize upon us both,
And gripe the sorer being gripped himself,
think therefore madam that imports as much,
To erect your son withal the speed we may,
And that I be protector over him,
For our behoof will bear the greater sway
When as a kings name shall be under writ.
Qu. :
Sweet Mortimer, the life
of Isabel,
Be thou persuaded, that I love thee well,
And therefore so the prince my son be safe,
whom I esteem as dear as these mine eyes,
Conclude against his father what thou wilt,
And I myself will willingly subscribe.
Mort. iu. :
First would I hear news
that he were deposed,
And then let me alone to handle him.
Enter Messenger.
Mor. iu. :
Letters, from whence?
Messen. :
From Killing worth my lord.
Qu. :
How fares my lord the king?
Messen. :
In health madam, but full of pensiveness.
Queen. :
Alas poor soul, would I could ease his grief,
Thanks gentle Winchester, sirrah, be gone.
Winchester. :
The king hath willingly resigned his crown.
Qu. :
O happy news, send for the prince my son.
Bish. :
Further, or this letter was sealed, Lord Bartley came,
So that he now is gone from Killingworth,
And we have heard that
Edmund laid a plot,
To set his brother free, no more but so,
The lord of Bartley is so pitiful,
As Leicester that had charge of him before.
Qu. :
Then let some other be his guardian.
Mor. iu. :
Let me alone, here is the privy seal,
who is there, call hither
Gurney and Matreuis,
To dash the heavy headed Edmunds drift,
Bartley shall be discharged, the king removed,
And none but we shall know where he lieth.
Qu. :
But Mortimer, as long as he survives
What safety rests for us or
for my son?
Mort. iu. :
speak, shall he presently
be dispatched and die?
Queen. :
I would he were, so
it were not by my means.
Enter Matreuis and Guruey.
Mortim. iu. :
Enough Matreuis, write a letter presently
Unto the Lord of Bartley
from ourself,
That he resign the king to thee and Gurney,
And when it is done, we
will subscribe our name.
Matr. :
It shall be done my lord.
Mort. iu. :
Gurney.
Gurn. :
My Lord.
Mort. iu. :
As thou intendest to rise by Mortimer,
Who now makes Fortunes wheel turn as he please,
Seek all the means thou canst to make him droop,
And neither give him
kind word, nor good look.
Gurn. :
I warrant you my lord.
Mort. iu. :
And this above the rest,
because we hear
That Edmund casts to work his liberty,
Remove him still from place to place by night,
And at the last, he come to Killingworth,
And then from thence to Bartley
back again:
And by the way to make him fret the more,
Speak cursedly to him, and in any case
Let no man comfort him, if he chance to weep,
But amplify his grief with bitter words.
Matre. :
Fear not my Lord, we will do as you command.
Mor. iu. :
So now away, post thither wards amain.
Qu. :
Whither goes this letter, to my lord the king?
Commend me humbly to his Majesty,
And tell him, that I labour all in vain,
To ease his grief, and work his liberty:
And bear him this, as witness of my love.
Matre. :
I will madam.
Exeunt Matreuis and Gurney.
Manent Isabel and Mortimer.
Enter the young Prince, and the Earl of Kent talking with him.
Mor. iu. :
Finely dissembled, do so still sweet Queen,
Here comes the young prince, with the Earl of Kent.
Qu. :
Something he whispers in his childish ears.
Mort. iu. :
If he have such access
unto the prince,
Our plots and stratagems will soon be dashed.
Queen. :
Use Edmund friendly, as if all were well.
Mor. iu. :
How fares my honourable lord of Kent?
Edmun. :
In health sweet Mortimer, how fares your grace.
Queen. :
Well, if my Lord your brother were enlarged.
Edm. :
I hear of late he hath
deposed himself.
Queen. :
The more my grief.
Mortim. iu. :
And mine.
Edmun. :
Ah they do dissemble.
Queen. :
Sweet son come hither,
I must talk with thee.
Mortim. iu. :
Thou being his uncle, and the next of blood,
do lool to be protector
over the prince.
Edm. :
Not I my lord: who should protect the son,
But she that gave him life, I mean the Queen?
Prin. :
Mother, persuade me not to wear the crown,
Let him be king, I am too young to reign.
Queen. :
But be content, seeing it his highness pleasure.
Prin. :
Let me but see him first, and then I will.
Edmund. :
I do sweet Nephew.
Quee. :
Brother, you know it is impossible.
Prince. :
Why, is he dead?
Queen. :
No, God forbid.
Edmun. :
I would these words proceeded from your heart.
Mort. iu. :
Inconstant Edmund, dost thou favour him,
That wast a cause of his imprisonment?
Edm. :
The more cause have I now to make amends.
Mort. iu. :
I tell thee it is not meet, that one so false
Should come about the person of a prince,
My lord, he hath betrayed the king his brother,
And therefore trust him not.
Prince. :
But he repents, and sorrows for it now.
Queen. :
Come son, and go with
this gentle Lord and me.
Prin. :
With you I will, but not with Mortimer.
Mort. iu. :
Why youngling, suddenest thou so of Mortimer?
Then I will carry thee by force away.
Prin. :
Help uncle Kent, Mortimer will wrong me.
Quee. :
Brother Edmund, strive not, we are his friends,
Isabel is nearer than the earl of Kent.
Edm. :
Sister, Edward is my charge, redeem him.
Queen. :
Edward is my son, and I will keep him.
Edmu. :
Mortimer shall know that
he hath wronged me.
Hence will I haste to Killingworth castle,
And rescue aged Edward from his foes,
To be revenged on Mortimer and thee.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Matreuis and Gurney with the king.
Matr. :
My lord, be not pensive, we are your friends,
Men are ordained to live in misery,
Therefore come, dalliance dangereth our lives.
Edw. :
Friends, whither must unhappy Edward go,
Will hateful Mortimer appoint no rest?
Must I be vexed like the nightly bird,
Whose sight is loathsome to all winged fowls?
When will the fury of his mind assuage?
When will his heart be satisfied with blood?
If mine will serve, unbowel straight this breast,
And give my heart to
Isabel and him,
It is the chiefest mark they level at.
Gurney. :
Not so my liege, the Queen hath given this charge,
To keep your grace in safety,
Your passions make your dolours to increase.
Edw. :
This usage makes my misery increase.
But can my air of life continue long,
When all my senses are annoyed with stench?
Within a dungeon Englands king is kept,
Where I am starved for want of sustenance,
My daily diet, is heart breaking sobs,
That almost rents the closet of my heart,
Thus lives old Edward not relieved by any,
And so must die, though pitied by many.
O water gentle friends to cool my thirst,
And clear my body from foul excrements.
Matr. :
Here is channel water, as our charge is given,
Sit down, for we will be Barbers to your grace.
Edw. :
Traitors away, what will you murther me,
Or choke your sovereign with puddle water?
Gurn. :
No, but wash your face, and shave away your beard,
Least you be known, and so be rescued.
Matr. :
Why strive you thus, your labour is in vain?
Edward. :
The Wren may strive against the Lions strength.
But all in vain, so vainly do I strive,
To seek for mercy at a tyrants hand.
They wash him with puddle water, and
shave his beard away.
Immortal powers, that knows the painful cares,
That waits upon my poor distressed soul,
O level all your looks upon these daring men,
That wrongs their liege and sovereign, Englands king,
O Gaueston, it is for thee that I am wronged,
For me, both thou, and both the Spencers died,
And for your sakes, a thousand wrongs I will take,
The Spencers ghosts,
where ever they remain,
Wish well to mine, then tush for them I will die.
Matr. :
Twixt theirs and yours, shall be no enmity,
Come, come, away, now put the torches out,
We will enter
in by darkness to Killingworth.
Enter Edmund.
Gurn. :
How now, who comes there?
Matr. :
Guard the king sure, it is the earl of Kent.
Edw. :
O gentle brother, help to rescue me.
Matr. :
Keep them a sunder, thrust in the king.
Edm. :
Soldiers, let me but talk to him one word.
Gur. :
Lay hands upon the earl for this assault.
Edmu. :
Lay down your weapons, traitors yield the king.
Matr. :
Edmund, yield thou thyself, or thou shalt die.
Edmu. :
Base villains, wherefore do you gripe
me thus?
Gurney. :
Bind him, and so convey him to the court.
Edm. :
Where is the court but here, here is the king,
And I will visit him, why stay you me?
Matr. :
The court is where lord Mortimer remains,
Thither shall your honour go, and so farewell.
Exeunt Matr. and Gurney, with the king.
Manent Edmund and the soldiers.
Edm. :
O miserable is that common-weal, where lords
Keep courts, and kings are locked in prison!
Sould. :
Wherefore stay we? on sirs to the court.
Edm. :
aye, load me whether you will,
even to my death,
Seeing that my brother cannot be released.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Mortimer alone.
Mort. iu. :
The king must die, or Mortimer
goes down,
The commons now begin to pity him,
Yet he that is the cause of Edwards death,
Is sure to pay for it when his son is of age,
And therefore will I do it cunningly,
This letter written by a friend of ours,
Contains his death, yet bids them save his life.

Fear not to kill the king it is good he die.
But read it thus, and that is an other sense:

Kill not the king it is good to fear the worst.
Unpointed as it is, thus shall it go,
That being dead, if it chance to be found,
Matreuis and the rest may bear the blame,
And we be quit that caused it to be done:
Within this room is locked the messenger,
That shall convey it, and perform the rest,
And by a secret token that he bears,
Shall he be murdered when the deed is done.
Lightborn, come forth, art
thou as resolute as thou wast?
Light. :
What else my lord? and far more resolute.
Mort. iu. :
And hast thou cast how to accomplish it?
Light. :
aye, aye, and none shall know which way he died.
Mortim. iu. :
But at his looks Lightborne thou wilt relent.
Light. :
Relent, ha, ha, I use much to relent.
Mort. iu. :
Well, do it bravely, and be secret.
Light. :
You shall not need to give instructions,
It is not the first time
I have killed a man,
I learned in Naples how to poison flowers,
To strangle with a lawn thrust through the throat,
To pierce the windpipe with a needles point,
Or whilst one is a sleep, to take a quill
And blow a little powder in his ears,
Or open his mouth, and pour quick silver down,
But yet I have a braver way
than these.
Mort. iu. :
What is that?
Light. :
Nay, you shall pardon me, none shall know my tricks.
Mort. iu. :
I care not how it is, so it be not spied,
Deliver this to Gurney
and Matreuis,
At every ten miles end thou hast a horse.
Take this, away, and never see me more.
Lightborne. :
No.
Mort. iu. :
No, unless thou bring me news of Edwards death.
Light. :
That will I quickly do, farewell my lord.
Mor. :
The prince I rule, the queen do I command,
And with a lowly conge to the ground,
The proudest lords salute me as I pass,
I seal, I cancel, I do what I will,
Feared am I more than loved, let me be feared,
And when I frown, make all the court look pale,
I view the prince with Aristorchus eyes,
Whose looks were as a breeching to a boy,
They thrust upon me the Protectorship,
And sue to me for that that I desire,
While at the council table, grave enough,
And not unlike a bashful Puritan,
First I complain of imbecility,
Saying it is,
Till being interrupted by my friends,
that
as they term it,
And to conclude, I am Protector now,
Now is all sure, the Queen and Mortimer
Shall rule the realm, the king, and none rule us,
Mine enemies will I plague, my friends advance,
And what I list command, who dare control,

And that this be the coronation day,
It pleaseth me, and Isabell the Queen,
The trumpets sound, I must go take my place.
Enter the young King, Bishop, Champion, Nobles, Queen.
Bish. :
Long live king
Edward, by the grace of God
King of England, and lord of Ireland.
Cham. :
If any Christian, Heathen, Turk, or Jew,
Dares but affirm, that Edwards not true king.
And will avouch his saying with the sword,
I am the Champion that will combat him.
Mort. iu. :
None comes, sound trumpets.
King. :
Champion, here is to thee.
Qu. :
Lord Mortimer, now take him to your charge.
Enter Soldiers with the Earl of Kent prisoner.
Mor. iu. :
What traitor have we
there with blades and bills?
Sould. :
Edmund the Earl of Kent.
King. :
What hath he done?
Sould. :
He would have
taken the king away perforce,
As we were bringing him to Killingworth.
Mortimer. iu. :
Did you attempt his rescue, Edmund
speak?
Edm. :
Mortimer, I did, he is our king,
And thou compelest this prince to wear the crown.
Mort. iu. :
Strike off his head, he shall have marshall law.
Edm. :
Strike off my head, base traitor I defy thee.
King. :
My lord, he is my uncle, and shall live.
Mor. iu. :
My lord, he is your enemy, and shall die.
Edmund. :
Stay villains.
King. :
Sweet mother, if I cannot pardon him,
Entreat my lord Protector for his life.
Qu. :
Son, be content, I dare not
speak a word.
King. :
Nor I, and yet methinks I should command,
But seeing I cannot, I will entreat for him:
My lord, if you will let my uncle live,
I will requite it when I come to age.
Mort. iu. :
It is for your highness good,
and for the realms,
How often shall I bid you bear him hence?
Edm. :
Art thou king, must I die at thy command?
Mort. iu. :
At our command, once more away with him.
Edm. :
Let me but stay and speak, I will not go,
Either my brother or his son is king,
And none of both, then thirst for Edmunds blood,
And therefore soldiers whither will you hale me?
They hale Edmund away, and carry him to be beheaded.
King. :
What safety may I look for at his hands,
If that my uncle shall be murthered thus?
Queen. :
Fear not sweet boy, I will guard thee from thy foes,
Had Edmund lived, he would have sought thy death,
Come son, we will ride
a hunting in the park.
King. :
And shall my uncle Edmund ride with
us?
Queen. :
He is a traitor, think not on him, come.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Matr. and Gurney.
Matr. :
Gurney, I wonder the king dies not,
Being in a vault up to the knees in water,
To which the channels of the castle run,
From whence a damp continually ariseth,
That were enough to poison any man,
Much more a king brought up so tenderly.
Gurn. :
And so do I, Matreuis: yesternight
I opened but the door to throw him meat,
And I was almost stifled with the savour.
Matr. :
He hath a body able to endure,
More than we can inflict, and therefore now,
Let us assail his mind another while.
Gurn. :
Send for him out thence, and I will anger him.
Matr. :
But stay, who is this?
Enter Lightborne.
Light. :
My lord protector greets you.
Gurn. :
What is here? I know not
how to conster it.
Matr. :
Gurney, it was left unpointed for the nonce,

That is his meaning.
Light. :
Know you this token, I must have the king?
Matr. :
Aye stay a while, thou shalt
have answer straight.
This villain is sent to make away the king.
Gurney. :
I thought as much.
Matr. :
And when the murder is done,
See how he must be handled for his labour,

let him have the king,
What else, here is the keys, this is the lake,
Do as you are commanded by my lord.
Light. :
I know what I must do, get you away,
Yet be not far off, I shall need your help,
See that in the next room I have a fire,
And get me a spit, and let it be red hot.
Matre. :
Very well.
Gurn. :
Need you anything besides?
Light. :
What else, a table and a featherbed.
Gurn. :
that is all.
Light. :
Aye, Aye, so when I call you, bring it in.
Matre. :
Fear not you that.
Gurn. :
here is a light to go into the dungeon.
Lightbor. :
So now must I about this gear, never was there any
So finely handled as this king shall be,
Foh, here is a place in deed with all my heart.
Edward. :
Who is there, what light
is that, wherefore comes thou?
Light. :
To comfort you, and bring you joyful news.
Edward. :
Small comfort finds poor Edward in thy looks,
Villain, I know thou comest to murther me.
Light. :
To murther you my most gracious lord,
Far is it from my heart to do you harm,
The Queen sent me, to see how you were used,
For she relents at this your misery.
And what eyes can refrain from shedding tears,
To see a king in this most piteous state?
Edw. :
Weepest thou already, list a while to me,
And then thy heart, were it as Gurneys is,
Or as Matreuis, hewn from
the Caucuses,
Yet will it melt, ere I have done my tale,
This dungeon where they keep me, is the sink,
Wherein the filth of all the castle falls.
Light. :
O villains!
Edw. :
And there in mire and puddle have I stood,
This ten days space, and least that I should sleep,
One plays continually upon a Drum,
They give me bread and water being a king,
So that for want of sleep and sustenance,
My mind is distempered,
and my body is numbed,
And whether I have limbs or no, I know not,
O would my blood dropped out from every vain,
As doth this water from my tattered robes:
Tell Isabel the Queen, I looked not thus,
When for her sake I ran at tilt in France,
And there unhorsed the duke of Cleremont.
Light. :
O speak no more my lord, this breaks my heart.
Lie on this bed, and rest yourself a while,
Edw. :
These looks of thine can harbour nought but death.
I see my tragedy written in thy brows,
Yet stay a while, forbear thy bloody hand,
And let me see the stroke before it comes,
That and even then when I shall lose my life,
My mind may be more steadfast on my God.
Light. :
What means your highness to mistrust me thus?
Edwa. :
What means thou to dissemble with me thus?
Light. :
These hands were never stained with innocent blood,
Nor shall they now be tainted with a kings.
Edward. :
Forgive my thought, for having such a thought,
One jewel have I left, receive thou this,
Still fear I, and I know not what is the cause,
But every joint shakes as
I give it thee:
O if thou harbourest murther in thy heart,
Let this gift change thy mind, and save thy soul,
Know that I am a king, O at that name,
I feel a hell of grief, where is my crown?
Gone, gone, and do I remain alive?
Light. :
You are over watched my lord,
lie down and rest.
Edw. :
But that grief keeps me waking, I should sleep,
For not these ten days have these eye lids closed,
Now as I speak they fall, and yet with fear
Open again, O wherefore
sits thou here?
Light. :
If you mistrust me, I will be
gone my lord.
Edw. :
No, no, for if thou meanest to murther me,
Thou wilt return again, and therefore stay.
Light. :
He sleeps.
Edw. :
O let me not die, yet stay, O stay a while.
Light. :
How now my Lord.
Edw. :
Something still busseth in mine ears,
And tells me, if I sleep I never wake,
This fear is that which makes me tremble thus,
And therefore tell me, wherefore art thou come?
Light. :
To rid thee of thy life, Matreuis come,
Edw. :
I am too weak and feeble to resist,
Assist me sweet God, and receive my soul.
Light. :
Run for the table.
Edw. :
O spare me, or dispatch me in a trice.
Light. :
So, lay the table down, and stamp his body.
But not too hard, least that you bruise his body.
Matreuis. :
I fear me that this cry will raise the town,
And therefore let us take horse and away.
Light. :
Tell me sirs, was it not bravely done?
Gurn. :
Excellent well, take this for thy reward,
Then Gurney stabs Lightborne.
Come let us cast the body in the more,
And bear the kings to Mortimer
our lord, away.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Mortimer and Matreuis.
Mortim. iu. :
Is it done, Matreuis,
and the murtherer dead?
Matr. :
Aye my good Lord, I would it were undone.
Mort. iu. :
Matreuis, if thou now growest penitent
I will be thy ghostly father, therefore choose,
Whether thou wilt be secret in this,
Or else die by the hand of Mortimer.
Matr. :
Gurney my lord is fled, and will I fear,
Betray us both, therefore let me fly.
Mort. iu. :
Fly to the Savages.
Matr. :
I humbly thank your honour.
Mor. iu. :
As for myself, I stand as
Jove's huge tree,
And others are but shrubs compared to me,
All tremble at my name, and I fear none,
Let us see who dare
impeach me for his death?
Enter the Queen.
Queen. :
Ah Mortimer, the king my
son hath news,
His father is dead, and we
have murdered him.
Mor. iu. :
What if he have? the king is yet a child.
Queen. :
aye, Aye, but he tears his hair, and wrings his hands,
And vows to be revenged upon us both,
Into the council chamber he is gone,
To crave the aide and succour of his peers,
Aye me, see where he comes, and they with him,
Now Mortimer begins our tragedy.
Enter the king, with the lords.
Lords. :
Fear not my lord, know that you are a king.
King. :
Villain.
Mort. iu. :
How now my lord?
King. :
think not that I am frighted with thy words,
My father is murdered through thy treachery,
And thou shalt die, and on his mournful hearse,
Thy hateful and accursed head shall lie,
To witness to the world, that by thy means,
His kingly body was too soon interred.
Qu. :
Weep not sweet son.
King. :
Forbid not me to weep, he was my father,
And had you loved him half so well as I,
You could not bear his death thus patiently,
But you I fear, conspired with Mortimer.
Lords. :
Why speak you not
unto my lord the king?
Mor. iu. :
Because I think scorn to be accused,
Who is the man dare say I murdered him?
King. :
Traitor, in me my loving father speaks,
And plainly saith, it was
thou that murderedest him.
Mort. iu. :
But hath your grace no other proof than this?
King. :
Yes, if this be the hand of Mortimer.
Mortim. iu. :
False Gurney hath betrayed
me and himself.
Queen. :
I feared as much, murther cannot be hid.
Mort. iu. :
It is my hand, what gather you by this.
King. :
That thither thou didst send a murtherer.
Mort. iu. :
What murtherer? bring forth the man I sent.
King. :
Ah Mortimer,
thou knowest that he is slain,
And so shalt thou be too: why stays he here?
Bring him unto a hurdle, drag him forth,
Hang him I say, and set his quarters up,
But bring his head back presently to me.
Queen. :
For my sake sweet son pity
Mortimer.
Mort. iu. :
Madam, entreat not, I will rather die,
Than sue for life unto a paltry boy.
King. :
Hence with the traitor, with the murderer.
Mort. iu. :
Base fortune, now I see, that in thy wheel
There is a point, to which when men aspire,
They tumble headlong down, that point I touched,
And seeing there was no place to mount
up higher,
Why should I grieve at my declining fall,
Farewell fair Queen, weep not for
Mortimer,
That scorns the world, and as a traveller,
Goes to discover countries yet unknown.
King. :
What, suffer you the traitor to delay?
Queen. :
As thou receivedest thy life from me,
Spill not the blood of gentle Mortimer.
King. :
This argues, that you spilt my fathers blood,
Else would you not entreat for Mortimer.
Queen. :
I spill his blood? no.
King. :
aye madam you, for so the rumour runs.
Queen. :
That rumour is untrue, for loving thee,
Is this report raised on poor Isabel.
King. :
I do not think her so unnatural.
Lords. :
My lord, I fear me it will prove too true.
King. :
Mother, you are suspected for his death,
And therefore we commit you to the Tower,
Till further trial may be made thereof,
If you be guilty, though I be your son,
think not to find me slack or pitiful.
Qu:
Nay, to my death, for too long have I lived,
When as my son thinks to abridge my days.
King. :
Away with her, her words enforce these tears,
And I shall pity her if she speak again.
Queen. :
Shall I not mourn for my beloved lord?
And with the rest accompany him to his grave.
Lords. :
Thus madam, it is the kings will you shall hence.
Quee. :
He hath forgotten me, stay, I am his mother.
Lords. :
That boots not, therefore gentle madam go.
Queen. :
Then come sweet death, and rid me of this grief.
Lords. :
My lord, here is the head of Mortimer.
King. :
Go fetch my fathers hearse, where it shall lie,
And bring my funeral robes: accursed head,
Could I have ruled thee then, as I do now,
Thou hadst not hatched this monstrous treachery?
Here comes the hearse, help me to mourn my lords,
Sweet father here, unto thy murdered ghost,
I offer up this wicked traitors head,
And let these tears distilling from mine eyes,
Be witness of my grief and innocency.