Chapter II: Part 2

_Q. Isab._ My lord, 'tis thought the earls are up in arms. _K. Edw._ Ay, and 'tis likewise thought you favour 'em. _Q. Isab._ Thus do you still suspect me without cause. _Niece._ Sweet uncle, speak more kindly to the queen. _Gav._ My lord, dissemble with her; speak her fair. _K. Edw._ Pardon me, sweet; I forgot myself. _Q. Isab._ Your pardon is quickly got of Isabel. _K. Edw._ The younger Mortimer is grown so brave, That to my face he threatens civil wars. _Gav._ Why do you not commit him to the Tower? _K. Edw._ I dare not, for the people love him well. _Gav._ Why, then, we'll have him privily made away. _K. Edw._ Would Lancaster and he had both carous'd A bowl of poison to each other's health! But let them go, and tell me what are these. _Niece._ Two of my father's servants whilst he liv'd: May't please your grace to entertain them now. _K. Edw._ Tell me, where wast thou born? what is thine arms? _Bald._ My name is Baldock, and my gentry I fetch from Oxford, not from heraldry. _K. Edw._ The fitter art thou, Baldock, for my turn. Wait on me, and I'll see thou shalt not want. _Bald._ I humbly thank your majesty. _K. Edw._ Knowest thou him, Gaveston. _Gav._ Ay, my lord; His name is Spenser; he is well allied: For my sake let him wait upon your grace; Scarce shall you find a man of more desert. _K. Edw._ Then, Spenser, wait upon me for his sake: I'll grace thee with a higher style ere long. _Y. Spen._ No greater titles happen unto me Than to be favour'd of your majesty! _K. Edw._ Cousin, this day shall be your marriage feast:-- And, Gaveston, think that I love thee well, To wed thee to our niece, the only heir Unto the Earl of Glocester late deceas'd. _Gav._ I know, my lord, many will stomach me; But I respect neither their love nor hate. _K. Edw._ The headstrong barons shall not limit me; He that I list to favour shall be great. Come, let's away; and, when the marriage ends, Have at the rebels and their complices! [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ KENT, LANCASTER, _the younger_ MORTIMER,
WARWICK, PEMBROKE, _and others._

_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 realm's 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.
_War._ He is your brother; therefore have we cause
To cast the worst, and doubt of your revolt.
_Kent._ Mine honour shall be hostage of my truth:
If that will not suffice, farewell, my lords.
_Y. Mor._ Stay, Edmund: never was Plantagenet
False of his word; and therefore trust we thee.
_Pem._ But what's the reason you should leave him now?
_Kent._ I have inform'd the Earl of Lancaster.
_Lan._ And it sufficeth. Now, my lords, know this,
That Gaveston is secretly arriv'd,
And here in Tynmouth frolics with the king.
Let us with these our followers scale the walls,
And suddenly surprise them unawares.
_Y. Mor._ I'll give the onset.
_War._ And I'll follow thee.
_Y. Mor._ This tatter'd 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 ['s] walls--
Drums, strike alarum, raise them from their sport,
And ring aloud the knell of Gaveston!
_Lan._ None be so hardy as to touch the king;
But neither spare you Gaveston nor his friends. [_Exeunt._

_Enter, severally_ KING EDWARD _and the younger_
SPENSER.

_K. Edw._ O, tell me, Spenser, where is Gaveston? _Y. Spen._ I fear me he is slain, my gracious lord. _K. Edw._ No, here he comes; now let them spoil and kill.

_Enter_ QUEEN ISABELLA, KING EDWARD'S Niece,
GAVESTON, _and_ Nobles.

Fly, fly, my lords; the earls have got the hold;
Take shipping, and away to Scarborough:
Spenser and I will post away by land.
_Gav._ O, stay, my lord! they will not injure you.
_K. Edw._ I will not trust them. Gaveston, away!
_Gav._ Farewell, my lord.
_K. Edw._ Lady, farewell.
_Niece._ Farewell, sweet uncle, till we meet again.
_K. Edw._ Farewell, sweet Gaveston; and farewell, niece.
_Q. Isab._ No farewell to poor Isabel thy queen?
_K. Edw._ Yes, yes, for Mortimer your lover's sake.
_Q. Isab._ Heavens can witness, I love none but you.
[_Exeunt all except Queen Isabella._
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_ LANCASTER, WARWICK, _the younger_ MORTIMER, _and
others. Alarums within._

_Lan._ I wonder how he scap'd.
_Y. Mor._ Who's this? the queen!
_Q. Isab._ Ay, Mortimer, the miserable queen,
Whose pining heart her inward sighs have blasted,
And body with continual mourning wasted:
These hands are tir'd with haling of my lord
From Gaveston, from wicked Gaveston;
And all in vain; for, when I speak him fair,
He turns away, and smiles upon his minion.
_Y. Mor._ Cease to lament, and tell us where's the king?
_Q. Isab._ What would you with the king? is't him you seek?
_Lan._ No, madam, but that cursed Gaveston:
Far be it from the thought of Lancaster
To offer violence to his sovereign!
We would but rid the realm of Gaveston:
Tell us where he remains, and he shall die.
_Q. Isab._ He's gone by water unto Scarborough:
Pursue him quickly, and he cannot scape;
The king hath left him, and his train is small.
_War._ Forslow no time, sweet Lancaster; let's march.
_Y. Mor._ How comes it that the king and he is parted?
_Q. Isab._ That thus your army, going several ways,
Might be of lesser force, and with the power
That he intendeth presently to raise,
Be easily suppress'd: therefore be gone.
_Y. Mor._ Here in the river rides a Flemish hoy:
Let's all aboard, and follow him amain.
_Lan._ The wind that bears him hence will fill our sails;
Come, come, aboard! 'tis but an hour's sailing.
_Y. Mor._ Madam, stay you within this castle here.
_Q. Isab._ No, Mortimer; I'll to my lord the king.
_Y. Mor._ Nay, rather sail with us to Scarborough.
_Q. Isab._ You know the king is so suspicious
As, if he hear I have but talk'd with you,
Mine honour will be call'd in question;
And therefore, gentle Mortimer, be gone.
_Y. Mor._ Madam, I cannot stay to answer you:
But think of Mortimer as he deserves.
[_Exeunt all except Queen Isabella._
_Q. Isab._ So well hast thou deserv'd, sweet Mortimer,
As Isabel could live with thee for ever.
In vain I look for love at Edward's hand,
Whose eyes are fix'd on none but Gaveston.
Yet once more I'll importune him with prayer:
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 Gaveston hath robb'd me of his love:
But yet, I hope, my sorrows will have end,
And Gaveston this blessed day be slain. [_Exit._

_Enter_ GAVESTON, _pursued._

_Gav._ Yet, lusty lords, I have escap'd your hands,
Your threats, your 'larums, and your hot pursuits;
And, though divorced from King Edward's eyes,
Yet liveth Pierce of Gaveston unsurpris'd,
Breathing in hope (malgrado all your beards,
That muster rebels thus against your king)
To see his royal sovereign once again.

_Enter_ WARWICK, LANCASTER, PEMBROKE, _the younger_
MORTIMER, Soldiers, JAMES _and other_ Attendants _of_
PENBROKE.

_War._ Upon him, soldiers! take away his weapons!
_Y. Mor._ Thou proud disturber of thy country's peace,
Corrupter of thy king, cause of these broils,
Base flatterer, yield! and, were it not for shame,
Shame and dishonour to a soldier's name,
Upon my weapon's point here shouldst thou fall,
And welter in thy gore.
_Lan._ Monster of men,
That, like the Greekish strumpet, train'd to arms
And bloody wars so many valiant knights,
Look for no other fortune, wretch, than death!
King Edward is not here to buckler thee.
_War._ Lancaster, why talk'st thou to the slave?--
Go, soldiers, take him hence; for, by my sword,
His head shall off.--Gaveston, short warning
Shall serve thy turn: it is our country's cause
That here severely we will execute
Upon thy person.--Hang him at a bough.
_Gav._ 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.
_Gav._ I thank you all, my lords: then I perceive
That heading is one, and hanging is the other,
And death is all.

_Enter_ ARUNDEL.

_Lan._ How now, my Lord of Arundel!
_Arun._ My lords, King Edward greets you all by me.
_War._ Arundel, say your message.
_Arun._ His majesty, hearing that you had taken Gaveston,
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.
_War._ How now!
_Gav._ Renowmed Edward, how thy name
Revives poor Gaveston!
_War._ No, it needeth not:
Arundel, we will gratify the king
In other matters; he must pardon us in this.--
Soldiers, away with him!
_Gav._ Why, my Lord of Warwick,
Will now these short delays beget my hopes?
I know it, lords, it is life you aim at,
Yet grant King Edward this.
_Y. Mor._ Shalt thou appoint
What we shall grant?--Soldiers, away with him!--
Thus we'll gratify the king;
We'll send his head by thee; let him bestow
His tears on that, for that is all he gets
Of Gaveston, or else his senseless trunk.
_Lan._ Not so, my lord, lest he bestow more cost
In burying him than he hath ever earn'd.
_Arun._ My lords, it is his majesty's 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? Arundel, no; we wot
He that the care of his realm remits,
And drives his nobles to these exigents
For Gaveston, 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.
_Y. Mor._ 'Tis 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.
_Gav._ How mean'st thou, Mortimer? that is over-base.
_Y. Mor._ Away, base groom, robber of king's renown!
Question with thy companions and mates.
_Pem._ My Lord Mortimer, and you, my lords, each one,
To gratify the king's request therein,
Touching the sending of this Gaveston,
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 Arundel,
Will join with me.
_War._ Pembroke, 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?
_Pem._ My lords, I will not over-woo your honours:
But, if you dare trust Pembroke 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 Pembroke's word.
_Pem._ And you, Lord Mortimer?
_Y. Mor._ How say you, my Lord of Warwick?
_War._ Nay, do your pleasures: I know how 'twill prove.
_Pem._ Then give him me.
_Gav._ Sweet sovereign, yet I come
To see thee ere I die!
_War._ Yet not perhaps,
If Warwick's wit and policy prevail. [_Aside._
_Y. Mor._ My Lord of Pembroke, we deliver him you:
Return him on your honour.--Sound, away!
[_Exeunt all except Pembroke, Arundel, Gaveston, James
and other attendants of Pembroke._
_Pem._ 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 to balk their lips.
_Arun._ 'Tis very kindly spoke, my Lord of Pembroke:
Your honour hath an adamant of power
To draw a prince.
_Pem._ So, my lord.--Come hither, James:
I do commit this Gaveston to thee;
Be thou this night his keeper; in the morning
We will discharge thee of thy charge: be gone.
_Gav._ Unhappy Gaveston, whither go'st thou now?
[_Exit with James and other Attendants of Pembroke._
_Horse-boy._ My lord, we'll quickly be at Cobham. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ GAVESTON _mourning,_ JAMES _and other_ Attendants
_of_ PEMBROKE.

_Gav._ O treacherous Warwick, thus to wrong thy friend!
_James._ I see it is your life these arms pursue.
_Gav._ 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_ WARWICK _and_ Soldiers.

_War._ My Lord of Pembroke's men,
Strive you no longer: I will have that Gaveston.
_James._ Your lordship doth dishonour to yourself,
And wrong our lord, your honourable friend.
_War._ No, James, it is my country's cause I follow.--
Go, take the villain: soldiers, come away;
We'll make quick work.--Commend me to your master,
My friend, and tell him that I watch'd it well.--
Come, let thy shadow parley with King Edward.
_Gav._ Treacherous earl, shall I not see the king?
_War._ The king of heaven perhaps, no other king.--
Away! [_Exeunt Warwick and Soldiers with Gaveston._
_James._ Come, fellows: it booted not for us to strive:
We will in haste go certify our lord. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ KING EDWARD, _the younger_ SPENSER, BALDOCK, Noblemen
_of the king's side, and_ Soldiers _with drums and fifes._

_K. Edw._ I long to hear an answer from the barons
Touching my friend, my dearest Gaveston.
Ah, Spenser, not the riches of my realm
Can ransom him! ah, he is mark'd 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 of Gaveston again:
The barons overbear with me their pride.
_Y. Spen._ Were I King Edward, England's sovereign,
Son to the lovely Eleanor of Spain,
Great Edward Longshanks' issue, would I bear
These braves, this rage, and suffer uncontroll'd
These barons thus to beard me in my land,
In mine own realm? My lord, pardon my speech:
Did you retain your father's magnanimity,
Did you regard the honour of your name,
You would not suffer thus your majesty
Be counterbuff'd 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.
_K. Edw._ Yes, gentle Spenser, we have been too mild,
Too kind to them; but now have drawn our sword,
And, if they send me not my Gaveston,
We'll steel it on their crest[s], 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 aw'd and govern'd like a child.

_Enter the elder_ SPENSER _with his truncheon, and_
Soldiers.

_E. Spen._ Long live my sovereign, the noble Edward,
In peace triumphant, fortunate in wars!
_K. Edw._ Welcome, old man: com'st thou in Edward's aid?
Then tell thy prince of whence and what thou art.
_E. Spen._ Low, with a band of bow-men and of pikes,
Brown bills and targeteers, four hundred strong,
Sworn to defend King Edward's royal right,
I come in person to your majesty,
Spenser, the father of Hugh Spenser there,
Bound to your highness everlastingly
For favour done, in him, unto us all.
_K. Edw._ Thy father, Spenser?
_Y. Spen._ True, an it like your grace,
That pours, in lieu of all your goodness shown,
His life, my lord, before your princely feet.
_K. Edw._ Welcome ten thousand times, old man, again!
Spenser, this love, this kindness to thy king,
Argues thy noble mind and disposition.
Spenser, I here create thee Earl of Wiltshire,
And daily will enrich thee with our favour,
That, as the sunshine, shall reflect o'er thee.
Beside, the more to manifest our love,
Because we hear Lord Bruce doth sell his land,
And that the Mortimers are in hand withal,
Thou shalt have crowns of us t'outbid the barons;
And, Spenser, spare them not, lay it on.--
Soldiers, a largess, and thrice-welcome all!
_Y. Spen._ My lord, here comes the queen.

_Enter_ QUEEN ISABELLA, PRINCE EDWARD, _and_
LEVUNE.

_K. Edw._ Madam, what news?
_Q. Isab._ News of dishonour, lord, and discontent.
Our friend Levune, faithful and full of trust,
Informeth us, by letters and by words,
That Lord Valois 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.
_K. Edw._ Welcome, Levune.--Tush, Sib, if this be all,
Valois and I will soon be friends again.--
But to my Gaveston: 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.
_P. Edw._ Commit not to my youth things of more weight
Than fits a prince so young as I to bear;
And fear not, lord and father,--heaven's great beams
On Atlas' shoulder shall not lie more safe
Than shall your charge committed to my trust.
_Q. Isab._ Ah, boy, this towardness makes thy mother fear
Thou art not mark'd to many days on earth!
_K. Edw._ Madam, we will that you with speed be shipp'd,
And this our son; Levune shall follow you
With all the haste we can despatch him hence.
Choose of our lords to bear you company;
And go in peace; leave us in wars at home.
_Q. Isab._ Unnatural wars, where subjects brave their king:
God end them once!--My lord, I take my leave,
To make my preparation for France. [_Exit with Prince Edward._

_Enter_ ARUNDEL.

_K. Edw._ What, Lord Arundel, dost thou come alone?
_Arun._ Yea, my good lord, for Gaveston is dead.
_K. Edw._ Ah, traitors, have they put my friend to death?
Tell me, Arundel, died he ere thou cam'st,
Or didst thou see my friend to take his death?
_Arun._ Neither, my lord; for, as he was surpris'd,
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.
_K. Edw._ And, tell me, would the rebels deny me that?
_Y. Spen._ Proud recreants!
_K. Edw._ Yea, Spenser, traitors all!
_Arun._ In found them at the first inexorable;
The Earl of Warwick would not bide the hearing,
Mortimer hardly; Pembroke and Lancaster
Spake least; and when they flatly had denied,
Refusing to receive me pledge for him,
The Earl of Pembroke mildly thus bespake;
"My lord, because our sovereign sends for him,
And promiseth he shall be safe return'd,
I will this undertake, to have him hence,
And see him re-deliver'd to your hands."
_K. Edw._ Well, and how fortunes [it] that he came not?
_Y. Spen._ Some treason or some villany was cause.
_Arun._ The Earl of Warwick seiz'd him on his way;
For, being deliver'd unto Pembroke's 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 march'd unto the camp.
_Y. Spen._ A bloody part, flatly 'gainst law of arms!
_K. Edw._ O, shall I speak, or shall I sigh and die!
_Y. Spen._ My lord, refer your vengeance to the sword
Upon these barons; hearten up your men;
Let them not unreveng'd murder your friends:
Advance your standard, Edward, in the field,
And march to fire them from their starting-holes.
_K. Edw._ [_kneeling._] By earth, the common mother of us all,
By heaven, and all the moving orbs thereof,
By this right hand, and by my father's 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!-- [_Rises._
Treacherous Warwick! 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 Gaveston!--
And in this place of honour and of trust,
Spenser, sweet Spenser, I adopt thee here;
And merely of our love we do create thee
Earl of Glocester and Lord Chamberlain,
Despite of times, despite of enemies.
_Y. Spen._ My lord, here's a messenger from the barons
Desires access unto your majesty.
_K. Edw._ Admit him near.

_Enter_ Herald _with his coat of arms._

_Her._ Long live King Edward, England's lawful lord!
_K. Edw._ So wish not they, I wis, that sent thee hither:
Thou com'st from Mortimer and his complices:
A ranker rout of rebels never was.
Well, say thy message.
_Her._ 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 Spenser, as a putrifying branch
That deads the royal vine, whose golden leaves
Empale 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 vow'd and consecrate.
_Y. Spen._ Ah, traitors, will they still display their pride?
_K. 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 [_Embraces young Spenser._
Spenser from thee. Now get thee to thy lords,
And tell them I will come to chastise them
For murdering Gaveston: hie thee, get thee gone!
Edward, with fire and sword, follows at thy heels. [_Exit Herald._
My lord[s], perceive you how these rebels swell?--
Soldiers, good hearts! defend your sovereign's right,
For, now, even now, we march to make them stoop.
Away!

[_Exeunt. Alarums, excursions, a great fight, and a
retreat sounded, within._

_Re-enter_ KING EDWARD, _the elder_ SPENSER, _the younger_
SPENSER, BALDOCK, _and_ Noblemen _of the king's side._

_K. Edw._ Why do we sound retreat? upon them, lords!
This day I shall your vengeance with my sword
On those proud rebels that are up in arms,
And do confront and countermand their king.
_Y. Spen._ I doubt it not, my lord; right will prevail.
_E. Spen._ 'Tis not amiss, my liege, for either part
To breathe a while; our men, with sweat and dust
All chok'd well near, begin to faint for heat;
And this retire refresheth horse and man.
_Y. Spen._ Here come the rebels.

_Enter the younger_ MORTIMER, LANCASTER, WARWICK,
PEMBROKE, _and others._

_Y. 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 Warwick's sword shall smite in vain. _K. Edw._ What, rebels, do you shrink and sound retreat? _Y. Mor._ No, Edward, no; thy flatterers faint and fly. _Lan._ They'd best betimes forsake thee and their trains, For they'll betray thee, traitors as they are. _Y. Spen._ Traitor on thy face, rebellious Lancaster! _Pem._ Away, base upstart! brav'st thou nobles thus? _E. Spen._ A noble attempt and honourable deed, Is it not, trow ye, to assemble aid And levy arms against your lawful king? _K. Edw._ For which, ere long, their heads shall satisfy T' appease the wrath of their offended king. _Y. Mor._ Then, Edward, thou wilt fight it to the last, And rather bathe thy sword in subjects' blood Than banish that pernicious company? _K. Edw._ Ay, traitors all, rather than thus be brav'd, 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! _K. Edw._ Saint George for England, and King Edward's right! [_Alarums. Exeunt the two parties severally._

_Enter_ KING EDWARD _and his followers, with the_ Barons
_and_ KENT _captive._

_K. Edw._ Now, lusty lords, now not by chance of war,
But justice of the quarrel and the cause,
Vail'd is your pride: methinks you hang the heads
But we'll advance them, traitors: now 'tis time
To be aveng'd on you for all your braves,
And for the murder of my dearest friend,
To whom right well you knew our soul was knit,
Good Pierce of Gaveston, my sweet favourite:
Ah, rebels, recreants, you made him away!
_Kent._ Brother, in regard of thee and of thy land,
Did they remove that flatterer from thy throne.
_K. Edw._ So, sir, you have spoke: away, avoid our presence!
[_Exit Kent._
Accursed wretches, was't in regard of us,
When we had sent our messenger to request
He might be spar'd to come to speak with us,
And Pembroke undertook for his return,
That thou, proud Warwick, watch'd the prisoner,
Poor Pierce, and headed him 'gainst law of arms?
For which thy head shall overlook the rest
As much as thou in rage outwent'st 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.
_K. Edw._ Away with them, my lord of Winchester!
These lusty leaders, Warwick and Lancaster,
I charge you roundly, off with both their heads!
Away!
_War._ Farewell, vain world!
_Lan._ Sweet Mortimer, farewell!
_Y. Mor._ England, unkind to thy nobility,
Groan for this grief! behold how thou art maim'd!
_K. Edw._ Go, take that haughty Mortimer to the Tower;
There see him safe bestow'd; and, for the rest,
Do speedy execution on them all.
Be gone!
_Y. Mor._ What, Mortimer, can ragged stony walls
Immure thy virtue that aspires to heaven?
No, Edward, England's scourge, it may not be;
Mortimer's hope surmounts his fortune far.
[_The captive Barons are led off._
_K. Edw._ Sound, drums and trumpets! March with me, my friends.
Edward this day hath crown'd him king anew.
[_Exeunt all except the younger Spenser,
Levune and Baldock._
_Y. Spen._ Levune, the trust that we repose in thee
Begets the quiet of King Edward's 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 suffer'd Jove to pass in showers of gold
To Danaë, all aid may be denied
To Isabel the queen, that now in France
Makes friends, to cross the seas with her young son,
And step into his father's regiment.
_Levune._ That's it these barons and the subtle queen
Long levell'd at.
_Bal._ Yea, but, Levune, thou seest,
These barons lay their heads on blocks together:
What they intend, the hangman frustrates clean.
_Levune._ Have you no doubt, my lords, I'll clap so close
Among the lords of France with England's gold,
That Isabel shall make her plaints in vain,
And France shall be obdurate with her tears.
_Y. Spen._ Then make for France amain; Levune, away!
Proclaim King Edward's wars and victories. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ KENT.

_Kent._ Fair blows the wind for France: blow, gentle gale,
Till Edmund be arriv'd for England's good!
Nature, yield to my country's cause in this!
A brother? no, a butcher of thy friends!
Proud Edward, dost thou banish me thy presence?
But I'll to France, and cheer the wronged queen,
And certify what Edward's looseness is.
Unnatural king, to slaughter nobleman
And cherish flatterers! Mortimer, I stay
Thy sweet escape. Stand gracious, gloomy night,
To his device!

_Enter the younger_ MORTIMER _disguised._

_Y. Mor._ Holla! who walketh there?
Is't you, my lord?
_Kent._ Mortimer, 'tis I.
But hath thy portion wrought so happily?
_Y. Mor._ It hath, my lord: the warders all asleep,
I thank them, gave me leave to pass in peace.
But hath your grace got shipping unto France?
_Kent._ Fear it not. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ QUEEN ISABELLA _and_ PRINCE EDWARD.

_Q. Isab._ Ah, boy, our friends do fail us all in France!
The lords are cruel, and the king unkind.
What shall we do?
_P. Edw._ Madam, return to England,
And please my father well; and then a fig
For all my uncle's friendship here in France!
I warrant you, I'll win his highness quickly;
'A loves me better than a thousand Spensers.
_Q. Isab._ Ah, boy, thou art deceiv'd, at least in this,
To think that we can yet be tun'd together!
No, no, we jar too far.--Unkind Valois!
Unhappy Isabel, when France rejects,
Whither, O, whither dost thou bend thy steps?

_Enter_ SIR JOHN OF HAINAULT.

_Sir J._ Madam, what cheer?
_Q. Isab._ Ah, good Sir John of Hainault,
Never so cheerless nor so far distrest!
_Sir J._ I hear, sweet lady, of the king's unkindness:
But droop not, madam; noble minds contemn
Despair. Will your grace with me to Hainault,
And there stay time's advantage with your son?--
How say you, my lord! will you go with your friends,
And shake off all our fortunes equally?
_P. Edw._ So pleaseth the queen my mother, me it likes:
The king of England, not the court of France,
Shall have me from my gracious mother's side,
Till I be strong enough to break a staff;
And then have at the proudest Spenser's head!
_Sir J._ Well said, my lord!
_Q. Isab._ O my sweet heart, how do I moan thy wrongs,
Yet triumph in the hope of thee, my joy!--
Ah, sweet Sir John, even to the utmost verge
Of Europe, on the shore of Tanais,
Will we with thee to Hainault--so we will:
The marquis is a noble gentleman;
His grace, I dare presume, will welcome me.--
But who are these?

_Enter_ KENT _and the younger_ MORTIMER.

_Kent._ Madam, long may you live,
Much happier than your friends in England do!
_Q. Isab._ Lord Edmund and Lord Mortimer alive!
Welcome to France! the news was here, my lord,
That you were dead, or very near your death.
_Y. Mor._ Lady, the last was truest of the twain:
But Mortimer, reserv'd for better hap,
Hath shaken off the thraldom of the Tower,
And lives t' advance your standard, good my lord.
_P. Edw._ How mean you, and the king my father lives?
No, my Lord Mortimer, not I, I trow.
_Q. Isab._ Not, son! Why not? I would it were no worse!--
But, gentle lords, friendless we are in France.
_Y. Mor._ 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 show'd himself: but, madam, right makes room
Where weapons want; and, though a many friends
Are made away, as Warwick, Lancaster,
And others of our part 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.
_Kent._ Would all were well, and Edward well reclaim'd,
For England's honour, peace, and quietness!
_Y. Mor._ But by the sword, my lord, 't must be deserv'd:
The king will ne'er forsake his flatterers.
_Sir J._ My lords of England, sith th' ungentle king
Of France refuseth to give aid of arms
To this distressed queen, his sister, here,
Go you with her to Hainault: doubt ye not
We will find comfort, money, men, and friends,
Ere long to bid the English king a base.--
How say'st, young prince, what think you of the match?
_P. Edw._ I think King Edward will outrun us all.
_Q. Isab._ Nay, son, not so; and you must not discourage
Your friends that are so forward in your aid.
_Kent._ Sir John of Hainault, pardon us, I pray:
These comforts that you give our woful queen
Bind us in kindness all at your command.
_Q. Isab._ Yea, gentle brother:--and the God of heaven
Prosper your happy motion, good Sir John!
_Y. Mor._ This noble gentleman, forward in arms,
Was born, I see, to be our anchor-hold.--
Sir John of Hainault, be it thy renown,
That England's queen and nobles in distress
Have been by thee restor'd and comforted.
_Sir J._ Madam, along; and you, my lord[s], with me,
That England's peers may Hainault's welcome see. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ KING EDWARD, ARUNDEL, _the elder_ SPENSER, _the
younger_ SPENSER, _and others._

_K. Edw._ Thus, after many threats of wrathful war,
Triumpheth England's Edward with his friends,
And triumph Edward with his friends uncontroll'd!--
My Lord of Glocester, do you hear the news?
_Y. Spen._ What news, my lord?
_K. Edw._ Why, man, they say there is great execution
Done through the realm.--My Lord of Arundel,
You have the note, have you not?
_Arun._From the Lieutenant of the Tower, my lord.
_K. Edw._ I pray, let us see it. [_Takes the note from Arundel._
--What have we there?--
Read it, Spenser.
[_Gives the note to young Spenser, who reads
their names._
Why, so: they bark'd apace a month ago;
Now, on my life, they'll neither bark nor bite.
Now, sirs, the news from France? Glocester, I trow,
The lords of France love England's gold so well
As Isabella gets no aid from thence.
What now remains? have you proclaim'd, my lord,
Reward for them can bring in Mortimer?
_Y. Spen._ My lord, we have; and, if he be in England,
'A will be had ere long, I doubt it not.
_K. Edw._ If, dost thou say? Spenser, as true as death,
He is in England's ground: our port-masters
Are not so careless of their king's command.

_Enter a_ Messenger.

How now! what news with thee? from whence come these?
_Mess._ Letters, my lord, and tidings forth of France:
To you, my Lord of Glocester, from Levune.
[_Gives letters to young Spenser._
_K. Edw._ Read.
_Y. Spen._ [reading.] _My duty to your honour promised, etc., I
have, according to instructions in that behalf, dealt with the
King of France and his lords, and effected that the queen, all
discontented and discomforted, is gone: whither, if you ask,
with Sir John of Hainault, brother to the marquis, into
Flanders. 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 honour's in all service, Levune._
_K. Edw._ Ah, villains, hath that Mortimer escap'd?
With him is Edmund gone associate?
And will Sir John of Hainault lead the round?
Welcome, o' God's name, madam, and your son!
England shall welcome you and all your rout.
Gallop apace, bright Phbus, 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! [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ QUEEN ISABELLA, PRINCE EDWARD, KENT, _the
younger_ MORTIMER, _and_ SIR JOHN OF HAINAULT.

_Q. Isab._ Now, lords, our loving friends and countrymen,
Welcome to England all, with prosperous winds!
Our kindest friends in Belgia have we left,
To cope with friends at home; a heavy case
When force to force is knit, and sword and glaive
In civil broils make kin and countrymen
Slaughter themselves in others, and their sides
With their own weapons gor'd! But what's the help?
Misgovern'd kings are cause of all this wreck;
And, Edward, thou art one among them all,
Whose looseness hath betray'd thy land to spoil,
Who made the channel overflow with blood
Of thine own people: patron shouldst thou be;
But thou--
_Y. Mor._ Nay, madam, if you be a warrior,
You must not grow so passionate in speeches.--
Lords, sith that we are, by sufferance of heaven,
Arriv'd and armed in this prince's right,
Here for our country's 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 sword;
That England's queen in peace may repossess
Her dignities and honours; and withal
We may remove these flatterers from the king
That havock England's wealth and treasury.
_Sir J._ Sound trumpets, my lord, and forward let us march.
Edward will think we come to flatter him.
_Kent._ I would he never had been flatter'd more! [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ KING EDWARD, BALDOCK, _and the younger_ SPENSER.

_Y. Spen._ Fly, fly, my lord! the queen is overstrong;
Her friends do multiply, and yours do fail.
Shape we our course to Ireland, there to breathe.
_K. Edw._ What, was I born to fly and run away,
And leave the Mortimers conquerors behind?
Give me my horse, and let's reinforce our troops.
And in this bed of honour die with fame.
_Bald._ O, no, my lord! this princely resolution
Fits not the time: away! we are pursu'd. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ KENT, _with a sword and target._

_Kent._ This way he fled; but I am come too late.
Edward, alas, my heart relents for thee!
Proud traitor, Mortimer, why dost thou chase
Thy lawful king, thy sovereign, with thy sword?
Vile wretch, and why hast thou, of all unkind,
Borne arms against thy brother and thy king?
Rain showers of vengeance on my cursed head,
Thou God, to whom in justice it belongs
To punish this unnatural revolt!
Edward, this Mortimer aims at thy life:
O, fly him, then! But, Edmund, calm this rage;
Dissemble, or thou diest; for Mortimer
And Isabel do kiss, while they conspire:
And yet she bears a face of love, forsooth:
Fie on that love that hatcheth death and hate!
Edmund, away! Bristow to Longshanks' blood
Is false; be not found single for suspect:
Proud Mortimer pries near into thy walks.

_Enter_ QUEEN ISABELLA, PRINCE EDWARD, _the younger_
MORTIMER, _and_ SIR JOHN JOHN OF HAINAULT.

_Q. Isab._ Successful battle gives the God of kings
To them that fight in right, and fear in wrath,
Since, then, successfully we have prevail'd,
Thanked be heaven's great architect, and you!
Ere farther we proceed, my noble lords,
We here create our well-beloved son,
Of love and care unto his royal person,
Lord Warden of the realm; and, sith the Fates
Have made his father so infortunate,
Deal you, my lords, in this, my loving lords,
As to your wisdoms fittest seems in all.
_Kent._ Madam, without offence if I may ask
How will you deal with Edward in his fall?
_P. Edw._ Tell me, good uncle, what Edward do you mean?
_Kent._ Nephew, your father; I dare not call him king.
_Y. Mor._ My Lord of Kent, what needs these questions?
'Tis not in her controlment nor in ours;
But as the realm and parliament shall please,
So shall your brother be disposed of.--
I like not this relenting mood in Edmund:
Madam, 'tis good to look to him betimes. [_Aside to the Queen._
_Q. Isab._ My lord, the Mayor of Bristow knows our mind.
_Y. Mor._ Yea, madam; and they scape not easily
That fled the field.
_Q. Isab._ Baldock is with the king:
A goodly chancellor, is he not, my lord?
_Sir J._ So are the Spensers, the father and the son.
_Y. Mor._ This Edward is the ruin of the realm.

_Enter_ RICE AP HOWEL _with the elder_ SPENSER _prisoner,
and_ Attendants.

_Rice._ God save Queen Isabel and her princely son!
Madam, the Mayor and citizens of Bristow,
In sign of love and duty to this presence,
Present by me this traitor to the state,
Spenser, the father to that wanton Spenser,
That, like the lawless Catiline of Rome,
Revell'd in England's wealth and treasury.
_Isab._ We thank you all.
_Y. Mor._ Your loving care in this
Deserveth princely favours and rewards.
But where's the king and the other Spenser fled?
_Rice._ Spenser the son, created Earl of Glocester,
Is with that smooth-tongu'd scholar Baldock gone,
And shipp'd but late for Ireland with the king.
_Y. Mor._ Some whirlwind fetch them back, or sink them all!-- [_Aside._
They shall be started thence, I doubt it not.
_P. Edw._ Shall I not see the king my father yet?
_Kent._ Unhappy Edward, chas'd from England's bounds! [_Aside._
_Sir J._ Madam, what resteth? why stand you in a muse?
_Q. Isab._ I rue my lord's ill-fortune: but, alas,
Care of my country call'd me to this war!
_Y. Mor._ Madam, have done with care and sad complaint:
Your king hath wrong'd your country and himself,
And we must seek to right it as we may.--
Meanwhile have hence this rebel to the block.
_E. Spen._ Rebel is he that fights against the prince:
So fought not they that fought in Edward's right.
_Y. Mor._ Take him away; he prates.
[_Exeunt Attendants with the elder Spenser._
You, Rice ap Howel,
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 advice.
How Baldock, Spenser, and their complices,
May in their fall be follow'd to their end. [_Exeunt._

_Enter the_ Abbot, Monks, KING EDWARD, _the younger_
SPENSER, _and_ BALDOCK (_the three latter disguised_).

_Abbot._ Have you no doubt, my lord; have you no fear:
As silent and as careful we will be
To keep your royal person safe with us,
Free from suspect, and fell invasion
Of such as have your majesty in chase,
Yourself, and those your chosen company,
As danger of this stormy time requires.
_K. Edw._ Father, thy face should harbour no deceit.
O, hadst thou ever been a king, thy heart,
Pierc'd 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, Spenser,--come, Baldock,--come, sit down by me;
Make trial now of that philosophy
That in our famous nurseries of arts
Thou suck'dst from Plato and from Aristotle.--
Father, this life contemplative is heaven:
O, that I might this life in quiet lead!
But we, alas, are chas'd!--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.
_First Monk._ Your grace may sit secure, if none but we
Do wot of your abode.
_Y. Spen._ Not one alive: but shrewdly I suspect
A gloomy fellow in a mead below;
'A gave a long look after us, my lord;
And all the land, I know, is up in arms,
Arms that pursue our lives with deadly hate.
_Bald._ We were embark'd for Ireland; wretched we,
With awkward winds and with sore tempests driven,
To fall on shore, and here to pine in fear
Of Mortimer and his confederates!
_K. Edw._ Mortimer! who talks of Mortimer?
Who wounds me with the name of Mortimer,
That bloody man?--Good father, on thy lap
Lay I this head, laden with mickle care.
O, might I never ope these eyes again,
Never again lift up this drooping head,
O, never more lift up this dying heart!
_Y. Spen._ Look up, my lord.--Baldock, this drowsiness
Betides no good; here even we are betray'd.

_Enter, with Welsh hooks,_ RICE AP HOWEL, _a_ Mower,
_and_ LEICESTER.

_Mow._ Upon my life, these be the men ye seek.
_Rice._ Fellow, enough.--My lord, I pray, be short;
A fair commission warrants what we do.
_Leices._ The queen's commission, urg'd by Mortimer:
What cannot gallant Mortimer with the queen?--
Alas, see where he sits, and hopes unseen
T'escape their hands that seek to reave his life!
Too true it is, _Quem dies vidit veniens superbum,
Hunc dies vidit fugiens jacentem._
But, Leicester, leave to grow so passionate.--
Spenser and Baldock, by no other names,
I arrest you of high treason here.
Stand not on titles, but obey th' arrest:
'Tis in the name of Isabel the queen.--
My lord, why droop you thus?
_K. Edw._ O day, the last of all my bliss on earth!
Centre of all misfortune! O my stars,
Why do you lour unkindly on a king?
Comes Leicester, then, in Isabella's name,
To take my life, my company from me?
Here, man, rip up this panting breast of mine,
And take my heart in rescue of my friends.
_Rice._ Away with them!
_Y. Spen._ It may become thee yet
To let us take our farewell of his grace.
_Abbott._ My heart with pity earns to see this sight;
A king to bear these words and proud commands! [_Aside._
_K. Edw._ Spenser, ah, sweet Spenser, thus, then, must we part?
_Y. Spen._ We must, my lord; so will the angry heavens.
_K. Edw._ Nay, so will hell and cruel Mortimer:
The gentle heavens have not to do in this.
_Bald._ My lord, it is in vain to grieve or storm.
Here humbly of your grace we take our leaves:
Our lots are cast; I fear me, so is thine.
_K. Edw._ In heaven we may, in earth ne'er shall we meet:--
And, Leicester, say, what shall become of us?
_Leices._ Your majesty must go to Killingworth.
_K. Edw._ Must! it is somewhat hard when kings must go.
_Leices._ Here is a litter ready for your grace,
That waits your pleasure, and the day grows old.
_Rice._ As good be gone, as stay and be benighted.
_K. Edw._ A litter hast thou? lay me in a hearse,
And to the gates of hell convey me hence;
Let Pluto's bells ring out my fatal knell,
And hags howl for my death at Charon's shore;
For friends hath Edward none but these,
And these must die under a tyrant's sword.
_Rice._ My lord, be going: care not for these;
For we shall see them shorter by the heads.
_K. Edw._ Well, that shall be shall be: part we must;
Sweet Spenser, gentle Baldock, part we must.--
Hence, feigned weeds! unfeigned are my woes.--
[_Throwing off his disguise._
Father, farewell.--Leicester, thou stay'st for me;
And go I must.--Life, farewell, with my friends!
[_Exeunt King Edward and Leicester._
_Y. Spen._ O, is he gone? is noble Edward gone?
Parted from hence, never to see us more!
Rend, sphere of heaven! and, fire, forsake thy orb!
Earth, melt to air! gone is my sovereign,
Gone, gone, alas, never to make return!
_Bald._ Spenser, I see our souls are fleeting hence;
We are depriv'd the sunshine of our life.
Make for a new life, man; throw up thy eyes
And heart and hand to heaven's immortal throne;
Pay nature's debt with cheerful countenance;
Reduce we all our lessons unto this,--
To die, sweet Spenser, therefore live we all;
Spenser, 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?
_Mow._ Your lordship I trust will remember me?
_Rice._ Remember thee, fellow! what else? Follow me to
the town. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ KING EDWARD, LEICESTER, _the_ BISHOP OF
WINCHESTER, _and_ TRUSSEL.