CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE
Eduardo II

ACTO I

I

Enter Gaveston reading on a letter that was brought him from the king

Gaveston:
‘My father is deceast, come Gaveston,
And share the kingdom with thy deerest friend’.
Ah words that make me surfet with delight:
What greater blisse can hap to Gaveston,
Then live and be the favorit of a king?
Sweete prince I come, these these thy amorous lines,
Might have enforst me to have swum from France,
And like Leander gaspt upon the sande,
So thou wouldst smile and take me in thy armes.
The sight of London to my exiled eyes,
Is as Elizium to a new come soule.
Not that I love the citie or the men,
But that it harbors him I hold so deare,
The king, upon whose bosome let me die,
And with the world be still at enmitie:
What neede the artick people love star-light,
To whom the sunne shines both by day and night.
Farewell base stooping to the lordly peeres,
My knee shall bowe to none but to the king.
As for the multitude that are but sparkes,
Rakt up in embers of their povertie,
Tanti: Ile fawne first on the winde,
That glaunceth at my lips and flieth away:
But how now, what are these?

Enter three poore men

Poore men:
Such as desire your worships service.

Gaveston:
What canst thou doe?

Poore man 1:
I can ride.

Gaveston:
But I have no horses. What art thou?

Poore man 2:
A traveller.

Gaveston:
Let me see, thou wouldst do well
To waite at my trencher, and tell me lies at dinner time,
And as I like your discoursing, ile have you.
And what art thou?

Poore man 3:
A souldier, that hath serv'd against the Scot.

Gaveston:
Why there are hospitals for such as you,
I have no warre, and therefore sir be gone.

Poore man 3:
Farewell, and perish by a souldiers hand,
That wouldst reward them with an hospitall.

Gaveston:
I, I, these wordes of his move me as much,
As if a Goose should play the Porpintine,
And dart her plumes, thinking to pierce my brest,
But yet it is no paine to speake men faire,
Ile flatter these, and make them live in hope:
You know that I came lately out of France,
And yet I have not viewd my Lord the king,
If I speed well, ile entertaine you all.

Omnes:
We thanke your worship.

Gaveston:
I have some busines, leave me to my selfe.

Omnes:
We will wait heere about the court.

Gaveston:
Do: these are not men for me,
I must have wanton Poets, pleasant wits,
Musitians, that with touching of a string
May draw the pliant king which way I please:
Musicke and poetrie is his delight,
Therefore ile have Italian maskes by night,
Sweete speeches, comedies, and pleasing showes,
And in the day when he shall walke abroad,
Like Sylvian Nimphes my pages shall be clad,
My men like Satyres grazing on the lawnes,
Shall with their Goate feete daunce an antick hay.
Sometime a lovelie boye in Dians shape,
With haire that gilds the water as it glides,
Crownets of pearle about his naked armes,
And in his sportfull 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 angrie goddesse be transformde,
And running in the likenes of an Hart,
By yelping hounds puld downe, and seeme to die.
Such things as these best please his majestie,
My lord. Heere comes the king and the nobles
From the parlament, ile stand aside.

Enter the King, Lancaster, Mortimer senior, Mortimer junior, Edmund Earle of Kent, Guie Earle of Warwicke

Edward:
Lancaster.

Lancaster:
My Lorde.

Gaveston:
That Earle of Lancaster do I abhorre.

Edward:
Will you not graunt me this? In spight of them
Ile have my will, and these two Mortimers,
That crosse me thus, shall know I am displeasd.

Mortimer senior:
If you love us my lord, hate Gaveston.

Gaveston:
That villaine Mortimer, ile be his death.

Mortimer:
Mine unckle heere, this Earle, and I my selfe,
Were sworne to your father at his death,
That he should nere returne into the realme:
And know my lord, ere I will breake my oath,
This sword of mine that should offend your foes,
Shall sleepe within the scabberd at thy neede,
And underneath thy banners march who will,
For Mortimer will hang his armor up.

Gaveston:
Mort dieu.

Edward:
Well Mortimer, ile make thee rue these words,
Beseemes it thee to contradict thy king?
Frownst thou thereat, aspiring Lancaster,
The sworde shall plane the furrowes of thy browes,
And hew these knees that now are growne so stiffe.
I will have Gaveston, and you shall know,
What danger tis to stand against your king.

Gaveston:
Well doone, Ned.

Lancaster:
My lord, why do you thus incense your peeres,
That naturally would love and honour you,
But for that base and obscure Gaveston:
Foure Earldomes have I besides Lancaster,
Darbie, Salsburie, Lincolne, Leicester,
These will I sell to give my souldiers paye,
Ere Gaveston shall stay within the realme.
Therefore if he be come, expell him straight.

Kent:
Barons and Earls, your pride hath made me mute,
But now ile speake, and to the proofe I hope:
I do remember in my fathers dayes,
Lord Percie of the North being highly mov'd,
Brav'd Mowberie in presence of the king,
For which, had not his highnes lov'd him well,
He should have lost his head, but with his looke,
The undaunted spirit of Percie was appeasd,
And Mowberie and he were reconcild:
Yet dare you brave the king unto his face.
Brother revenge it, and let these their heads,
Preach upon poles for trespasse of their tongues.

Warwicke:
O our heads?

Edward:
I yours, and therefore I would wish you graunt.

Warwicke:
Bridle thy anger gentle Mortimer.

Mortimer:
I cannot, nor I will not, I must speake.
Cosin, our hands I hope shall fence our heads,
And strike off his that makes you threaten us.
Come unckle, let us leave the brainsick king,
And henceforth parle with our naked swords.

Mortimer senior:
Wilshire hath men enough to save our heads.

Warwicke:
All Warwickshire will love him for my sake.

Lancaster:
And Northward Gaveston hath many friends.
Adew my Lord, and either change your minde,
Or looke to see the throne where you should sit,
To floate in bloud, and at thy wanton head,
The glozing head of thy base minion throwne.

Edward:
I cannot brooke these hautie menaces:
Am I a king and must be over rulde?
Brother displaie my ensignes in the field,
Ile bandie with the Barons and the Earles,
And eyther die, or live with Gaveston.

Gaveston:
I can no longer keepe me from my lord.

Edward:
What Gaveston, welcome: kis not my hand,
Embrace me Gaveston as I do thee:
Why shouldst thou kneele, knowest thou not who I am?
Thy friend, thy selfe, another Gaveston.
Not Hilas was more mourned of Hercules,
Then thou hast beene of me since thy exile.

Gaveston:
And since I went from hence, no soule in hell
Hath felt more torment then poore Gaveston.

Edward:
I know it, brother welcome home my friend.
Now let the treacherous Mortimers conspire,
And that high minded earle of Lancaster,
I have my wish, in that I joy thy sight,
And sooner shall the sea orewhelme my land,
Then beare the ship that shall transport thee hence:
I heere create thee Lord high Chamberlaine,
Cheefe Secretarie to the state and me,
Earle of Cornewall, king and lord of Man.

Gaveston:
My lord, these titles far exceed my worth.

Kent:
Brother, the least of these may well suffice
For one of greater birth then Gaveston.

Edward:
Cease brother, for I cannot brooke these words:
Thy woorth sweet friend is far above my guifts,
Therefore to equall it receive my hart.
If for these dignities thou be envied,
Ile give thee more, for but to honour thee,
Is Edward pleazd with kinglie regiment.
Fearst thou thy person? thou shalt have a guard:
Wants thou gold? go to my treasurie:
Wouldst thou be lovde and fearde? receive my seale,
Save or condemne, and in our name commaund,
What so thy minde affectes or fancie likes.

Gaveston:
It shall suffice me to enjoy your love,
Which whiles I have, I thinke my selfe as great,
As Caesar riding in the Romaine streete,
With captive kings at his triumphant Carre

Enter the Bishop of Coventrie

Edward:
whether goes my Lord of Coventrie so fast?

Bishop:
To celebrate your fathers exequies,
But is that wicked Gaveston returnd?

Edward:
I priest, and lives to be revengd on thee,
That wert the onely cause of his exile.

Gaveston:
Tis true, and but for reverence of these robes,
Thou shouldst not plod one foote beyond this place.

Bishop:
I did no more then I was bound to do,
And Gaveston unlesse thou be reclaimd,
As then I did incense the parlement,
So will I now, and thou shalt back to France.

Gaveston:
Saving your reverence, you must pardon me.
Lays hold on him.

Edward:
Throwe of his golden miter, rend his stole,
And in the channell christen him a new.

Kent:
Ah brother, lay not violent hands on him,
For heele complaine unto the sea of Rome.

Gaveston:
Let him complaine unto the sea of hell,
Ile be revengd on him for my exile.

Edward:
No, spare his life, but seaze upon his goods,
Be thou lord bishop, and receive his rents,
And make him serve thee as thy chaplaine,
I give him thee, here use him as thou wilt.

Gaveston:
He shall to prison, and there die in boults.

Edward:
I, to the tower, the fleete, or where thou wilt.

Bishop:
For this offence be thou accurst of God.

Edward:
Whose there? conveie this priest to the tower.

Bishop:
True, true.

Edward:
But in the meane time Gaveston away,
And take possession of his house and goods:
Come follow me, and thou shalt have my guarde,
To see it done, and bring thee safe againe.

Gaveston:
What should a priest do with so faire a house?
A prison may beseeme his holinesse.

II

Enter both the Mortimers, Warwicke, and Lancaster

Warwicke:
Tis true, the Bishop is in the tower,
And goods and body given to Gaveston.
Lancaster
What? will they tyrannize upon the Church?
Ah wicked king, accurssed Gaveston,
This ground which is corrupted with their steps,
Shall be their timeles sepulcher, or mine.
Mortimer
Lancaster
Wel, let that peevish Frenchman guard him sure,
Unlesse his brest be sword proofe he shall die.
Mortimer senior
How now, why droops the earle of Lancaster?
Mortimer
Wherfore is Guy of Warwicke discontent?
Lancaster
That villaine Gaveston is made an Earle.
Mortimer senior
An Earle!
Warwicke
I, and besides, lord Chamberlaine of the realme,
And secretary to, and lord of Man.
Mortimer senior
We may not, nor we will not suffer this. Mortimer.
Why post we not from hence to levie men?
Lancaster
My lord of Cornewall now, at every worde,
And happie is the man, whom he vouchsafes
For vailing of his bonnet one good looke.
Thus arme in arme, the king and he dooth marche:
Nay more, the guarde upon his lordship waites:
And all the court begins to flatter him.
Warwicke
Thus leaning on the shoulder of the king,
He nods, and scornes, and smiles at those that passe.
Mortimer senior
Doth no man take exceptions at the slave?
Lancaster
All stomack him, but none dare speake a word.
Mortimer
Ah that bewraies their basenes Lancaster,
Were all the Earles and Barons of my minde,
Weele hale him from the bosome of the king,
And at the court gate hang the pessant up,
Who swolne with venome of ambitious pride,
Will be the ruine of the realme and us.
Enter the [Arch] Bishop of Canterburie [and attendant].
Warwicke
Here comes my lord of Canterburies grace.
Lancaster
His countenance bewraies he is displeasd.
Bishop
First were his sacred garments rent and torne,
Then laide they violent hands upon him, next
Himselfe imprisoned, and his goods asceasd,
This certifie the Pope, away, take horsse.
[Exit attendant.]
Lancaster
My lord, will you take armes against the king?
Bishop
What neede I, God himselfe is up in armes,
When violence is offered to the church.
Mortimer
Then wil you joine with us that be his peeres
To banish or behead that Gaveston?

Bishop
What els my lords, for it concernes me neere,
The Bishoprick of Coventrie is his.
Enter the Queene.
Mortimer
Madam, whether whither walks your majestie so fast?
Queen
Unto the forrest gentle Mortimer,
To live in greefe and balefull discontent,
For now my lord the king regardes me not,
But dotes upon the love of Gaveston.
He claps his cheekes, and hanges about his neck,
Smiles in his face, and whispers in his eares,
And when I come, he frownes, as who should say,
Go whether whither thou wilt seeing I have Gaveston.
Mortimer senior
Is it not straunge, that he is thus bewitcht?
Mortimer
Madam, returne unto the court againe:
That slie inveigling Frenchman weele exile,
Or lose our lives: and yet ere that day come,
The king shall lose his crowne, for we have power,
And courage to, to be revengde at full.

Bishop
But yet lift not your swords against the king.

Lancaster
No, but weele lift Gaveston from hence.
Warwicke
And war must be the meanes, or heele stay stil.
Queene
Then let him stay, for rather then my lord
Shall be opprest by civill mutinies,
I wil endure a melancholie life,
And let him frollick with his minion.
Bishop
My lords, to eaze all this, but heare me speake.
We and the rest that are his counsellers,
Will meete, and with a generall consent,
Confirme his banishment with our handes and seales.
Lancaster
What we confirme the king will frustrate.
Mortimer
Then may we lawfully revolt from him.

Warwicke
But say my lord, where shall this meeting bee?

Bishop
At the new temple.

Mortimer
Content.
Bishop
And in the meane time ile intreat you all,
To crosse to Lambeth, and there stay with me.
Lancaster
Come then lets away.
Mortimer
Madam farewell.

Queene
Farewell sweet Mortimer, and for my sake,
Forbeare to levie armes against the king.

Mortimer
I, if words will serve, if not, I must.

Act One, Scene Three
Enter Gaveston and the earle ofKent.
Gaveston
Edmund, the mightie prince of Lancaster
That hath more earldomes then an asse can beare,
And both the Mortimers, two goodly men,
With Guie of Warwick that redoubted knight,
Are gone towards Lambeth, there let them remaine.

Act One, Scene Four
Enter Nobiles [: Lancaster, Warwicke, Penbrooke, Mortimer senior, Mortimer junior, the Archbishop of Canterburie, attended].
Lancaster
Here is the forme of Gavestons exile:
May it please your lordship to subscribe your name.
Bishop
Give me the paper.
Lancaster
Quick quick my lorde, I long to write my name.
Warwicke
But I long more to see him banisht hence.
Mortimer
The name of Mortimer shall fright the king,
Unlesse he be declinde from that base pesant.
Enter the King and Gaveston [and Kent].

Edward
What? are you mov'd that Gaveston sits heere?
It is our pleasure, we will have it so.
Lancaster
Your grace doth wel to place him by your side,
For no where else the new earle is so safe.
Mortimer senior
What man of noble birth can brooke this sight?
Quam male conveniunt:
See what a scornfull looke the pesant casts.
Penbrooke
Can kinglie Lions fawne on creeping Ants?
Warwicke
Ignoble vassaile that like Phaeton,
Aspir'st unto the guidance of the sunne.
Mortimer
Their downfall is at hand, their forces downe,
We will not thus be facst and overpeerd.

Edward
Lay hands on that traitor Mortimer.

Mortimer senior
Lay hands on that traitor Gaveston.
[Seize him.]

Kent
Is this the dutie that you owe your king?
Warwicke
We know our duties, let him know his peeres.
Edward
whether whither will you beare him, stay or ye shall die.
Mortimer senior
We are no traitors, therefore threaten not.
Gaveston
No, threaten not my lord, but pay them home.
Were I a king---
Mortimer
Thou villaine, wherfore talkes thou of a king,
That hardly art a gentleman by birth?

Edward
Were he a peasant, being my minion,
Ile make the prowdest of you stoope to him.
Lancaster
My lord, you may not thus disparage us,
Away I say with hatefull Gaveston.
Mortimer senior
And with the earle of Kent that favors him.
[Exeunt Kent and Gaveston guarded.]
Edward
Nay, then lay violent hands upon your king,
Here Mortimer, sit thou in Edwards throne,
Warwicke and Lancaster, weare you my crowne,
Was ever king thus over rulde as I?
Lancaster
Learne then to rule us better and the realme.
Mortimer
What we have done, our hart bloud shall maintaine.
Warwicke
Think you that we can brooke this upstart pride?
Edward
Anger and wrathfull furie stops my speech.
Bishop
Why are you moov'd, be patient my lord,
And see what we your councellers have done.
Mortimer
My lords, now let us all be resolute,
And either have our wils, or lose our lives.

Edward
Meete you for this, proud overdaring peeres?
Ere my sweete Gaveston shall part from me,
This Ile shall fleete upon the Ocean,
And wander to the unfrequented Inde.
Bishop
You know that I am legate to the Pope,
On your allegeance to the sea of Rome,
Subscribe as we have done to his exile.
Mortimer
Curse him, if he refuse, and then may we
Depose him and elect an other king.

Edward
I there it goes, but yet I will not yeeld,
Curse me, depose me, doe the worst you can.

Lancaster
Then linger not my lord but do it straight.

Bishop
Remember how the Bishop was abusde,
Either banish him that was the cause thereof,
Or I will presentlie discharge these lords,
Of dutie and allegeance due to thee.
Edward
It bootes me not to threat, I must speake faire,
The Legate of the Pope will be obayd:
My lord, you shalbe Chauncellor of the realme,
Thou Lancaster, high admirall of our fleete,
Yong Mortimer and his unckle shalbe earles,
And you lord Warwick, president of the North,
And thou of Wales: if this content you not,
Make severall kingdomes of this monarchie,
And share it equally amongst you all,
So I may have some nooke or corner left,
To frolike with my deerest Gaveston.
Bishop
Nothing shall alter us, wee are resolv'd.
Lancaster
Come, come, subscribe.
Mortimer
Why should you love him, whome the world hates so?
Edward
Because he loves me more then all the world:
Ah none but rude and savage minded men,
Would seeke the ruine of my Gaveston,
You that be noble borne should pitie him.
Warwicke
You that are princely borne should shake him off,
For shame subscribe, and let the lowne depart.
Mortimer senior
Urge him, my lord.
Bishop
Are you content to banish him the realme?
Edward
I see I must, and therefore am content.
In steede of inke, ile write it with my teares.
Mortimer
The king is love-sick for his minion.

Edward
Tis done, and now accursed hand fall off.

Lancaster
Give it me, ile have it published in the streetes.

Mortimer
Ile see him presently dispatched away.

Bishop
Now is my heart at ease.

Warwicke
And so is mine.

Penbrooke
This will be good newes to the common sort.

Mortimer senior
Be it or no, he shall not linger here.
Exeunt Nobiles.

Edward
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 imperiall groomes,
For these thy superstitious taperlights,
Wherewith thy antichristian churches blaze,
Ile fire thy crased buildings, and enforce
The papall towers, to kisse the lowlie ground,
With slaughtered priests make Tibers channell swell,
And bankes raisd higher with their sepulchers:
As for the peeres that backe the cleargie thus,
If I be king, not one of them shall live.
Enter Gaveston.
Gaveston
My lord I heare it whispered every where,
That I am banishd, and must flie the land.
Edward
Tis true sweete Gaveston, oh were it false.
The Legate of the Pope will have it so,
And thou must hence, or I shall be deposd,
But I will raigne to be reveng'd of them,
And therefore sweete friend, take it patiently,
Live where thou wilt, ile send thee gould enough,
And long thou shalt not stay, or if thou doost,
Ile come to thee, my love shall neare decline.
Gaveston
Is all my hope turnd to this hell of greefe.
Edward
Rend not my hart with thy too piercing words,
Thou from this land, I from my selfe am banisht.
Gaveston
To go from hence, greeves not poore Gaveston,
But to forsake you, in whose gratious lookes
The blessednes of Gaveston remaines,
For no where else seekes he felicitie.
Edward
And onely this torments my wretched soule,
That whether I will or no thou must depart:
Be governour of Ireland in my stead,
And there abide till fortune call thee home.
Here take my picture, and let me weare thine,
O might I keepe thee heere, as I doe this,
Happie were I, but now most miserable.
Gaveston
Tis something to be pitied of a king.
Edward
Thou shalt not hence, ile hide thee Gaveston.
Gaveston
I shal be found, and then twil greeve me more.
Edward
Kinde wordes, and mutuall talke, makes our greefe greater,
Therefore with dum imbracement let us part.
Stay Gaveston, I cannot leave thee thus.
Gaveston
For every looke, my lord, drops downe a teare,
Seeing I must go, do not renew my sorrow.
Edward
The time is little that thou hast to stay,
And therefore give me leave to looke my fill,
But come sweete friend, ile beare thee on thy way.
Gaveston
The peeres will frowne.
Edward
I passe not for their anger, come lets go,
O that we might as well returne as goe.
Enter Queen Isabell.
Queene
whether goes my lord?
Edward
Fawne not on me French strumpet, get thee gone.
Queene
On whom but on my husband should I fawne?
Gaveston
On Mortimer, with whom ungentle Queen—
I say no more, judge you the rest my lord.
Queene
In saying this, thou wrongst me Gaveston,
Ist not enough, that thou corrupts my lord,
And art a bawd to his affections,
But thou must call mine honor thus in question?
Gaveston
I meane not so, your grace must pardon me.
Edward
Thou art too familiar with that Mortimer,
And by thy meanes is Gaveston exilde.
But I would wish thee reconcile the lords,
Or thou shalt nere be reconcild to me.
Queene
Your highnes knowes, it lies not in my power.
Edward
Away then, touch me not, come Gaveston.
Queene
Villaine, tis thou that robst me of my lord.
Gaveston
Madam, tis you that rob me of my lord.
Edward
Speake not unto her, let her droope and pine.
Queene
Wherein my lord, have I deservd these words?
Witnesse the teares that Isabella sheds,
Witnesse this hart, that sighing for thee breakes,
How deare my lord is to poore Isabell.
Edward
And witnesse heaven how deere thou art to me.
There weepe, for till my Gaveston be repeald,
Assure thy selfe thou comst not in my sight.
Exeunt Edward and Gaveston.
Queene
O miserable and distressed Queene!
Would when I left sweet France and was imbarkt,
That charming Circes walking on the waves,
Had chaungd my shape, or at the mariage day
The cup of Hymen had beene full of poyson,
Or with those armes that twind about my neck,
I had beene stifled, and not lived to see,
The king my lord thus to abandon me:
Like frantick Juno will I fill the earth,
With gastlie murmure of my sighes and cries,
For never doted Jove on Ganimed,
So much as he on cursed Gaveston.
But that will more exasperate his wrath,
I must entreat him, I must speake him faire,
And be a meanes to call home Gaveston:
And yet heele ever dote on Gaveston,
And so am I for ever miserable.
Enter the Nobles to the Queene.
Lancaster
Looke where the sister of the king of Fraunce,
Sits wringing of her hands, and beats her brest.
Warwicke
The king I feare hath ill intreated her.
Penbrooke
Hard is the hart, that injures such a saint.
Mortimer
I know tis long of Gaveston she weepes.

Mortimer senior
Why? he is gone.

Mortimer
Madam, how fares your grace?

Queene
Ah Mortimer now breaks the kings hate forth,
And he confesseth that he loves me not.

Mortimer
Crie quittance Madam then, and love not him.

Queene
No, rather will I die a thousand deaths,
And yet I love in vaine, heele nere love me.

Lancaster
Feare ye not Madam, now his minions gone,
His wanton humor will be quicklie left.
Queene
O never Lancaster! I am injoynde,
To sue unto you all for his repeale:
This wils my lord, and this must I performe,
Or else be banisht from his highnesse presence.
Lancaster
For his repeale, Madam! he comes not back,
Unlesse the sea cast up his shipwrack body.
Warwicke
And to behold so sweete a sight as that,
Theres none here, but would run his horse to death.
Mortimer
But madam, would you have us cal him home?

Queene
I Mortimer, for till he be restorde,
The angrie king hath banished me the court:
And therefore as thou lovest and tendrest me,
Be thou my advocate unto these peeres.
Mortimer
What, would ye have me plead for Gaveston?
Mortimer senior
Plead for him he that will, I am resolvde.
Lancaster
And so am I my lord, diswade the Queene.
Queene
O Lancaster, let him diswade the king,
For tis against my will he should returne
Warwicke
Then speake not for him, let the pesant go.
Queene
Tis for my selfe I speake, and not for him.
Penbrooke
No speaking will prevaile, and therefore cease.
Mortimer
Faire Queene forbeare to angle for the fish,
Which being caught, strikes him that takes it dead,
I meane that vile Torpedo, Gaveston,
That now I hope flotes on the Irish seas.

Queene
Sweete Mortimer, sit downe by me a while,
And I will tell thee reasons of such waighte,
As thou wilt soone subscribe to his repeale.

Mortimer
It is impossible, but speake your minde.

Queene
Then thus, but none shal heare it but our selves.

Lancaster
My Lords,albeit the Queen winne Mortimer,
Will you be resolute and hold with me?
Mortimer senior
Not I against my nephew.
Penbrooke
Feare not, the queens words cannot alter him.
Warwicke
No? doe but marke how earnestly she pleads.
Lancaster
And see how coldly his lookes make deniall.
Warwicke
She smiles, now for my life his mind is changd.
Lancaster
Ile rather loose his friendship I, then graunt.
Mortimer
Well of necessitie it must be so.
My Lords, that I abhorre base Gaveston,
I hope your honors make no question,
And therefore though I pleade for his repeall,
Tis not for his sake, but for our availe:
Nay, for the realms behoofe and for the kings.
Lancaster
Fie Mortimer, dishonor not thy selfe,
Can this be true twas good to banish him,
And is this true to call him home againe?
Such reasons make white blacke, and darke night day.
Mortimer
My Lord of Lancaster, marke the respect.

Lancaster
In no respect can contraries be true.
Queene
Yet good my lord, heare what he can alledge.
Warwicke
All that he speakes, is nothing, we are resolv'd.
Mortimer
Do you not wish that Gaveston were dead?

Penbrooke
I would he were.

Mortimer
Why then my lord, give me but leave to speak.

Mortimer senior
But nephew, do not play the sophister.

Mortimer
To mend the king, and do our countrie good:
Know you not Gaveston hath store of golde,
Which may in Ireland purchase him such friends,
As he will front the mightiest of us all,
And whereas he shall live and be belovde,
Tis hard for us to worke his overthrow.
Warwicke
Marke you but that my lord of Lancaster.
Mortimer
But were he here, detested as he is,
How easilie might some base slave be subbornd,
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, enrowle his name,
For purging of the realme of such a plague.
Penbrooke
He saith true.
Lancaster
I, but how chance this was not done before?
Mortimer
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,
Twill make him vaile the topflagof his pride,
And feare to offend the meanest noble man.
Mortimer senior
But how if he do not Nephew?
Mortimer
Then may we with some colour rise in armes,
For howsoever we have borne it out,
Tis treason to be up against the king.
So shall we have the people of our side,
Which for his fathers sake leane to the king,
But cannot brooke a night growne mushrump,
Such a one as my Lord of Cornewall is,
Should beare us downe of the nobilitie,
And when the commons and the nobles joyne,
Tis not the king can buckler Gaveston,
Weele pull him from the strongest hould he hath
My lords, if to performe this I be slack,
Thinke me as base a groome as Gaveston.
Lancaster
On that condition Lancaster will graunt.
Warwicke
And so will Penbrooke and I.
Mortimer senior
And I.
Mortimer
And Mortimer will rest at your commaund.

Queene
And when this favour Isabell forgets,
Then let her live abandond and forlorne.
But see in happie time, my lord the king,
Having brought the Earle of Cornewall on his way,
Is new returnd, this newes will glad him much,
Yet not so much as me. I love him more
Then he can Gaveston, would he lov'd me
But halfe so much, then were I treble blest.
Enter king Edward moorning [attended].
Edward
Hees gone, and for his absence thus I moorne,
Did never sorrow go so neere my heart,
As dooth the want of my sweete Gaveston,
And could my crownes revenew bring him back,
I would freelie give it to his enemies,
And thinke I gaind, having bought so deare a friend.
Queene
Harke how he harpes upon his minion.
Edward
My heart is as an anvill unto sorrow,
Which beates upon it like the Cyclops hammers,
And with the noise turnes up my giddie braine,
And makes me frantick for my Gaveston:
Ah had some bloudlesse furie rose from hell,
And with my kinglie scepter stroke me dead,
When I was forst to leave my Gaveston.
Lancaster.
Diablo, what passions call you these?
Queene
My gratious lord, I come to bring you newes.
Edward
That you have parled with your Mortimer

Queene
That Gaveston,my Lord,shalbe repeald.
Edward
Repeald, the newes is too sweet to be true.
Queene
But will you love me, if you finde it so?
Edward
If it be so, what will not Edward do?
Queene
For Gaveston, but not for Isabell.
Edward
For thee faire Queene, if thou lovest Gaveston,
Ile hang a golden tongue about thy neck,
Seeing thou hast pleaded with so good successe.
Queene
No other jewels hang about my neck
Then these my lord, nor let me have more wealth,
Then I may fetch from this ritch treasurie:
O how a kisse revives poore Isabell.
Edward
Once more receive my hand, and let this be,
A second mariage twixt thy selfe and me.
Queene
And may it proove more happie then the first.
My gentle lord, bespeake these nobles faire,
That waite attendance for a gratious looke,
And on their knees salute your majestie
Edward
Couragious Lancaster, imbrace thy king,
And as grosse vapours perish by the sunne,
Even so let hatred with thy soveraignes smile.
Live thou with me as my companion.
Lancaster
This salutation overjoyes my heart.
Edward
Warwickshalbe my chiefest counseller:
These silver haires will more adorne my court,
Then gaudie silkes, or rich imbrotherie.
Chide me sweete Warwick, if I go astray.
Warwicke
Slay me my lord, when I offend your grace.
Edward
In sollemne triumphes, and in publike showes,
Penbrooke shall beare the sword before the king.
Penbrooke
And with this sword, Penbrooke wil fight for you.
Edward
But wherefore walkes yong Mortimer aside?
Be thou commaunder of our royall fleete,
Or if that loftie office like thee not,
I make thee heere lord Marshall of the realme.
Mortimer
My lord, ile marshall so your enemies,
As England shall be quiet, and you safe.
Edward
And as for you, lord Mortimer of England,
Whose great atchivements in our forrain warre,
Deserves no common place, nor meane reward:
Be you the generall of the levied troopes,
That now are readie to assaile the Scots.
Mortimer senior
In this your grace hath highly honoured me,
For with my nature warre doth best agree.
Queene
Now is the king of England riche and strong,
Having the love of his renowned peeres.
Edward
I Isabella nere was my heart so light.
Clarke of the crowne, direct our warrant forth,
For Gaveston to Ireland: Beamont flie,
As fast as Iris, or Joves Mercurie.
Beamont
It shalbe done my gratious Lord.
[Exeunt Clarke and Beamont.]
Edward
Lord Mortimer, we leave you to your charge:
Now let us in, and feast it roiallie:
Against our friend the earle of Cornewall comes,
Weele have a generall tilt and turnament,
And then his mariage shalbe solemnized,
For wot you not that I have made him sure,
Unto our cosin, the earle of Glosters heire.
Lancaster
Such newes we heare my lord.
Edward
That day, if not for him,yet for my sake,
Who in the triumphe will be challenger,
Spare for no cost, we will requite your love.
Warwicke
In this, or ought, your highnes shall commaund us.
Edward
Thankes gentle Warwick, come lets in and revell.
Exeunt. Manent Mortimers.
Mortimer senior
Nephue, I must to Scotland, thou staiest here.
Leave now to oppose thy selfe against the king,
Thou seest by nature he is milde and calme,
And seeing his minde so dotes on Gaveston,
Let him without controulement have his will.
The mightiest kings have had their minions,
Great Alexander lovde Ephestion,
The conquering Hercules for Hilas wept,
And for Patroclus sterne Achillis droopt:
And not kings onelie, but the wisest men,
The Romaine Tullie loved wit="Q3">Octavius,
Grave Socrates, wilde Alcibiades:
Then let his grace, whose youth is flexible,
And promiseth as much as we can wish,
Freely enjoy that vaine light-headed earle,
For riper yeares will weane him from such toyes.
Mortimer
Unckle, his wanton humor greeves not me,
But this I scorne, that one so baselie borne,
Should by his soveraignes favour grow so pert,
And riote it with the treasure of the realme,
While souldiers mutinie for want of paie.
He weares a lords revenewe on his back,
And Midas like he jets it in the court,
With base outlandish cullions at his heeles,
Whose proud fantastick liveries make such show,
As if that Proteus god of shapes appearde.
I have not seene a dapper jack so briske,
He weares a short Italian hooded cloake,
Larded with pearle, and in his tuskan cap
A jewell of more value then the crowne.
Whiles other walke below, the king and he
From out a window, laugh at such as we,
And floute our traine, and jest at our attire:
Unckle, tis this that makes me impatient.
Mortimer senior
But nephew, now you see the king is changd.
Mortimer
Then so am I, and live to do him service,
But whiles I have a sword, a hand, a hart,
I will not yeeld to any such upstart.
You know my minde, come unckle lets away.

Act Two, Scene One
Enter Spencer and Balduck.
Baldock.
Spencer,
Seeing that our Lord th'earle of Glosters dead,
Which of the nobles dost thou meane to serve?
Spencer
Not Mortimer, nor any of his side,
Because the king and he are enemies.
Baldock: learne this of me, a factious lord
Shall hardly do himselfe good, much lesse us,
But he that hath the favour of a king,
May with one word, advaunce us while we live:
The liberall earle of Cornewall is the man,
On whose good fortune Spencers hope depends.
Baldock
What, meane you then to be his follower?
Spencer
No, his companion, for he loves me well,
And would have once preferd me to the king.
Baldock
But he is banisht, theres small hope of him.
Spencer
I for a while, but Baldock marke the end,
A friend of mine told me in secrecie,
That hees repeald, and sent for back againe,
And even now, a poast came from the court,
With letters to our ladie from the King,
And as she red, she smild, which makes me thinke,
It is about her lover Gaveston.
Baldock
Tis like enough, for since he was exild,
She neither walkes abroad, nor comes in sight:
But I had thought the match had beene broke off,
And that his banishment had changd her minde.
Spencer
Our Ladies first love is not wavering,
My life for thine she will have Gaveston.
Baldock
Then hope I by her meanes to be preferd,
Having read unto her since she was a childe.
Spencer
Then Balduck, you must cast the scholler off,
And learne to court it like a Gentleman,
Tis not a black coate and a little band,
A Velvet cap'de cloake, fac'st 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 lowe legs to a noble man,
Or looking downeward, with your eye lids close,
And saying, trulie ant may please your honor,
Can get you any favour with great men.
You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute,
And now and then, stab as occasion serves.
Baldock
Spencer, thou knowest I hate such formall toies,
And use them but of meere hypocrisie.
Mine old lord whiles he livde, was so precise,
That he would take exceptions at my buttons,
And being like pins heads, blame me for the bignesse,
Which made me curate-like in mine attire,
Though inwardly licentious enough,
And apt for any kinde of villanie.
I am none of these common pedants I,
That cannot speake without propterea quod.
Spencer
But one of those that saith quandoquidem,
And hath a speciall gift to forme a verbe.
Baldock
Leave of this jesting, here my lady comes.
Enter the Ladie (Neece to the king).
Neece
The greefe for his exile was not so much,
As is the joy of his returning home.
This letter came from my sweete Gaveston,
What needst thou, love, thus to excuse thy selfe?
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 seaze on my heart,”
But rest stay Q3-4, Dd2- thee here where Gaveston shall sleepe
Now to the letter of my Lord the King,
He wils me to repaire unto the court,
And meete my Gaveston why do I stay,
Seeing that he talkes thus of my mariage day?
Whose there, Balduck?
See that my coache be readie, I must hence.
Baldock
It shall be done madam.
Neece
And meete me at the parke pale presentlie:
Exit [Baldock].
Spencer, stay you and beare me companie,
For I have joyfull newes to tell thee of;
My lord of Cornewall is a comming over,
And will be at the court as soone as we.
Spencer
I knew the King would have him home againe.
Neece
If all things sort out, as I hope they will,
Thy service Spencer shalbe thought upon.
Spencer
I humbly thanke your Ladieship.
Neece
Come lead the way, I long till I am there.

Act Two, Scene Two
Enter Edward, the Queene, Lancaster, Mortimer[junior], Warwicke, Penbrooke, Kent, attendants.
Edward
The winde is good, I wonder why he stayes,
I feare me he is wrackt upon the sea.
Queene
Look Lancaster how passionate he is,
And still his minde runs on his minion.
Lancaster
My Lord.
Edward
How now, what newes, is Gaveston arrivde?
Mortimer
Nothing but Gaveston, what means your grace?
You have matters of more waight to thinke upon,
The King of Fraunce sets foote in Normandie.
Edward
A trifle, weele expell him when
But tell me Mortimer, whats thy devise,
Against the stately triumph we decreed?
Mortimer
A homely one my lord, not worth the telling.

Edward
Prethee let me know it.

Mortimer
But seeing you are so desirous, thus it is:
A loftie Cedar tree faire flourishing,
On whose top-branches Kinglie Eagles pearch,
And by the barke a canker creepes me up,
And gets unto the highest bough of all,
The motto: Aeque tandem.
Edward
And what is yours my lord of Lancaster?
Lancaster
My lord, mines more obscure then Mortimers.
Plinie reports, there is a flying Fish,
Which all the other fishes deadly hate,
And therefore being pursued, it takes the aire:
No sooner is it up, but thers a foule,
That seaseth it: this fish my lord I beare,
The motto this: Undique mors est.
Edward
Proud Mortimer, ungentle Lancaster,
Is this the love you beare your soveraigne?
Is this the fruite your reconcilement beares?
Can you in words make showe of amitie,
And in your shields display your rancorous minds?
What call you this but private libelling,
Against the Earle of Cornewall and my brother?
Queene
Sweete husband be content, they all love you.
Edward
They love me not that hate my Gaveston.
I am that Cedar, shake me not too much,
And you the Eagles, sore ye nere so high,
I have the gesses that will pull you downe,
And Aeque tandem shall that canker crie,
Unto the proudest peere of Britanie:
Though thou comparst him to a flying Fish,
And threatenest death whether he rise or fall,
Tis not the hugest monster of the sea,
Nor fowlest Harpie that shall swallow him.
Mortimer
If in his absence thus he favors him,
What will he do when as he shall be present?

Lancaster
That shall wee see, looke where his lordship comes.
Enter Gaveston.

Edward
My Gaveston,
Welcome to Tinmouth, welcome to thy friend,
Thy absence made me droope, and pine away,
For as the lovers of faire Danae,
When she was lockt up in a brasen tower,
Desirde her more, and waxt outragious,
So did it sure with me: and now thy sight
Is sweeter farre, then was thy parting hence
Bitter and irkesome to my sobbing heart.
Gaveston
Sweet Lord and King, your speech preventeth mine,
Yet have I words left to expresse my joy:
The sheepeherd nipt with biting winters rage,
Frolicks not more to see the paynted springe,
Then I doe to behold your Majestie.
Edward
Will none of you salute my Gaveston?
Lancaster
Salute him? yes: welcome Lord Chamberlaine.
Mortimer
Welcome is the good Earle of Cornewall.

Warwicke
Welcome Lord governour of the Ile of Man.
Penbrooke
Welcome maister secretarie.
Kent
Brother, doe you heare them?
Edward
Stil wil these Earles and Barrons use me thus?
Gaveston
My Lord I cannot brooke these injuries.
Queene
Aye me poore soule when these begin to jarre.
Edward
Returne it to their throtes, ile be thy warrant.
Gaveston
Base leaden Earles that glorie in your birth,
Goe sit at home and eate your tenants beefe:
And come not here to scoffe at Gaveston,
Whose mounting thoughts did never creepe so low,
As to bestow a looke on such as you.
Lancaster
Yet I disdaine not to doe this for you.
[Draws sword.]
Edward
Treason, treason: whers the traitor?
Penbrooke
Heere, here.
Edward
Convey hence Gaveston, thaile murder him.
Gaveston
The life of thee shall salve this foule disgrace.
Mortimer
Villaine thy life, unlesse I misse mine aime.
[Wounds Gaveston.]

Queene
Ah furious Mortimer what hast thou done?

Mortimer
No more then I would answere were he slaine.
[Exit Gaveston, attended.]
Edward
Yes more then thou canst answer though he live,
Deare shall you both abie this riotous deede:
Out of my presence, come not neere the court.
Mortimer
Ile not be barde the court for Gaveston.

Lancaster
Weele haile him by the eares unto the block.

Edward
Looke to your owne heads, his is sure enough.

Warwicke
Looke to your owne crowne, if you back him thus.

Kent.
Warwicke, these words do ill beseeme thy years.
Edward
Nay all of them conspire to crosse me thus,
But if I live, ile tread upon their heads,
That thinke with high lookes thus to tread me down.
Come Edmund lets away, and levie men,
Tis warre that must abate these Barons pride.
Exit the King [, Queene, and Kent].
Warwicke
Lets to our castels, for the king is moovde.
Mortimer
Moov'd may he be, and perish in his wrath.

Lancaster
Cosin it is no dealing with him now,
He meanes to make us stoope by force of armes,
And therefore let us jointlie here protest,
To prosecute that Gaveston to the death.

Mortimer
By heaven, the abject villaine shall not live.

Warwicke
Ile have his bloud, or die in seeking it.

Penbrooke
The like oath Penbrooke takes.

Lancaster
And so doth Lancaster:
Now send our Heralds to defie the King,
And make the people sweare to put him downe.
Enter a Poast.

Mortimer
Letters, from whence?

Messenger
From Scotland my lord.
Lancaster
Why how now cosin, how fares all our friends?
Mortimer
My unckles taken prisoner by the Scots.

Lancaster
Weel have him ransomd man, be of good cheere.

Mortimer
They rate his ransome at five thousand pound.
Who should defray the money, but the King,
Seeing he is taken prisoner in his warres?
Ile to the King.
Lancaster
Do cosin, and ile beare thee companie.
Warwicke
Meane time my lord of Penbrooke and my selfe,
Will to Newcastell heere, and gather head.
Mortimer
About it then, and we will follow you.

Lancaster
Be resolute, and full of secrecie.

Warwicke
I warrant you.

Mortimer
Cosin, and if he will not ransome him,
Ile thunder such a peale into his eares,
As never subject did unto his King.

Lancaster
Content, ile beare my part, holla whose there?
[Enter a Guard.]

Mortimer
I marry, such a garde as this dooth well.

Lancaster
Lead on the way.

Guard
Whither will your lordships?
Mortimer
Whither else but to the King.

Guard
His highnes is disposde to be alone.

Lancaster
Why, so he may, but we will speake to him.

Guard
You may not in, my lord.
Mortimer
May we not?
[Enter the King and Kent.]
Edward
How now, what noise is this?
Who have we there, ist you?
[Offers to go back.]
Mortimer
Nay, stay my lord, I come to bring you newes,
Mine unckles taken prisoner by the Scots.
Edward
Then ransome him.
Lancaster
Twas in your wars, you should ransome him.
Mortimer
And you shall ransome him, or else--
Kent
What Mortimer, you will not threaten him?
Edward
Quiet your self, you shall have the broad seale,
To gather for him thoroughout the realme.
Lancaster
Your minion Gaveston hath taught you this.
Mortimer
My lord, the familie of the Mortimers
Are not so poore, but would they sell their land,
Would levie men enough to anger you.
We never beg, but use such praiers as these.
[Lays hand on sword.]
Edward
Shall I still be haunted thus?
Mortimer
Nay, now you are heere alone, ile speake my minde.

Lancaster
And so will I, and then my lord farewell.

Mortimer
The idle triumphes, maskes, lascivious showes
And prodigall gifts bestowed on Gaveston,
Have drawne thy treasure drie, and made thee weake,
The murmuring commons overstretched hath.
Lancaster. Looke for rebellion, looke to be deposde,
Thy garrisons are beaten out of Fraunce,
And lame and poore, lie groning at the gates,
The wilde Oneyle, with swarmes of Irish Kernes,
Lives uncontroulde within the English pale,
Unto the walles of Yorke the Scots made rode,
And unresisted, drave away riche spoiles.
Mortimer
The hautie Dane commands the narrow seas,
While in the harbor ride thy ships unrigd.

Lancaster
What forraine prince sends thee embassadors?

Mortimer
Who loves thee? but a sort of flatterers.

Lancaster
Thy gentle Queene, sole sister to Valoys,
Complaines, that thou hast left her all forlorne.

Mortimer
Thy court is naked, being bereft of those,
That makes a king seeme glorious to the world,
I meane the peeres, whom thou shouldst dearly love:
Libels are cast againe thee in the streete,
Ballads and rimes, made of thy overthrow.
Lancaster
The Northren borderers seeing their houses burnt,
Their wives and children slaine, run up and downe,
Cursing the name of thee and Gaveston.
Mortimer
When wert thou in the field with banner spred?
But once , and then thy souldiers marcht like players,
With garish robes, not armor, and thy selfe
Bedaubd with golde, rode laughing at the rest,
Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest,
Where womens favors hung like labels downe.
Lancaster
And thereof came it, that the fleering Scots,
To Englands high disgrace, have made this Jig,
Maids of England, sore may you moorne,
For your lemmons you have lost, at Bannocks borne,
With a heave and a ho,
What weeneth the king of England,
So soone to have woone Scotland,
With a rombelow.

Mortimer
Wigmore shall flie, to set my unckle free.

Lancaster
And when tis gone, our swordes shall purchase more.
If ye be moov'de, revenge it as you can,
Looke next to see us with our ensignes spred.
Exeunt Nobiles.
Edward
My swelling hart for very anger breakes,
How oft have I beene baited by these peeres?
And dare not be revengde, for their power is great:
Yet, shall the crowing of these cockerels,
Affright a Lion? Edward, unfolde thy pawes,
And let their lives bloud slake thy furies hunger:
If I be cruell, and growe tyrannous,
Now let them thanke themselves, and rue too late.
Kent
My lord, I see your love to Gaveston,
Will be the ruine of the realme and you,
For now the wrathfull nobles threaten warres,
And therefore brother banish him for ever.
Edward
Art thou an enemie to my Gaveston?
Kent
I, and it greeves me that I favoured him.
Edward
Traitor be gone, whine thou with Mortimer.
Kent
So will I, rather then with Gaveston.
Edward
Out of my sight, and trouble me no more.
Kent
No marvell though thou scorne thy noble peeres,
When I thy brother am rejected thus.
Exit.
Edward
Away:
Poore Gaveston, that hast no friend but me,
Do what they can, weele live in Tinmoth here,
And so I walke with him about the walles,
What care I though the Earles begirt us round?
Heere comes she thats cause of all these jarres.
Enter the Queene, three Ladies [, one of these Neece to the king, Gaveston], Baldock, and Spencer.
Queene
My lord, tis thought, the Earles are up in armes.
Edward
I, and tis likewise thought you favour him.
Queene
Thus do you still suspect me without cause.
Neece
Sweet unckle speake more kindly to the queene.
Gaveston
My lord, dissemble with her, speake her faire.
Edward
Pardon me sweet, I forgot my selfe.
Queene
Your pardon is quicklie got of Isabell.
Edward
The yonger Mortimer is growne so brave,
That to my face he threatens civill warres.
Gaveston
Why do you not commit him to the tower?
Edward
I dare not, for the people love him well.
Gaveston
Why then weele have him privilie made away.
Edward
Would Lancaster and he had both carroust,
A bowle of poison to each others health:
But let them go, and tell me what are these.
Neece
Two of my fathers servants whilst he liv'de,
Mait please your grace to entertaine them now.
Edward
Tell me, where wast thou borne?What is thine armes?
Baldock
My name is Baldock, and my gentrie
If fetcht rom Oxford, not from Heraldrie.
Edward
The fitter art thou Baldock for my turne,
Waite on me, and ile see thou shalt not want.
Baldock
I humblie thanke your majestie.
Edward
Knowest thou him Gaveston?
Gaveston
I my lord,
His name is Spencer, he is well alied,
For my sake let him waite upon your grace,
Scarce shall you finde a man of more desart.
Edward
Then Spencer waite upon me, for his sake
Ile grace thee with a higher stile ere long.
Spencer
No greater titles happen unto me,
Then to be favoured of your majestie.
Edward
Cosin, this day shalbe your mariage feast,
And Gaveston, thinke that I love thee well,
To wed thee to our neece, the onely heire
Unto the Earle of Gloster late deceased.
Gaveston
I know my lord, many will stomack me,
But I respect neither their love nor hate.
Edward
The head-strong Barons shall not limit me.
He that I list to favour shall be great:
Come lets away, and when the mariage ends,
Have at the rebels, and their complices.

Act Two, Scene Three
Enter Lancaster, Mortimer [junior], Warwick, Penbrooke, Kent.
Kent
My lords, of love to this our native land,
I come to joine with you, and leave the king,
And in your quarrell and the realmes behoofe,
Will be the first that shall adventure life.
Lancaster
I feare me you are sent of pollicie,
To undermine us with a showe of love.
Warwicke
He is your brother, therefore have we cause
To cast the worst, and doubt of your revolt.
Kent
Mine honor shalbe hostage of my truth,
If that will not suffice, farewell my lords.
Mortimer
Stay Edmund, never was Plantagenet
False of his word, and therefore trust we thee.

Penbrooke
But whats the reason you should leave him now?

Kent
I have enformd the Earle of Lancaster.
Lancaster
And it sufficeth: now my lords know this,
That Gaveston is secretlie arrivde,
And here in Tinmoth frollicks with the king.
Let us with these our followers scale the walles,
And sodenly surprize them unawares.
Mortimer
Ile give the onset.

Warwicke
And ile follow thee.

Mortimer
This tottered ensigne of my auncesters,
Which swept the desart shore of that dead sea,
Whereof we got the name of Mortimer,
Will I advaunce upon this castell walles,
Drums strike alarum, raise them from their sport,
And ring aloude the knell of Gaveston.
Lancaster
None be so hardie as to touche the King,
But neither spare you Gaveston, nor his friends.

Act Two, Scene Four
[Alarums.] Enter [at several doors] the King and Spencer, to them Gaveston, &c. [the Queene, Neece, lords].
Edward
O tell me Spencer, where is Gaveston?
Spencer
I feare me he is slaine my gratious lord.
Edward
No, here he comes, now let them spoile and kill:
Flie, flie, my lords, the earles have got the holde,
Take shipping and away to Scarborough,
Spencer and I will post away by land.
Gaveston
O stay my lord, they will not injure you.
Edward
I will not trust them, Gaveston away.
Gaveston
Farewell my Lord.
Edward
Ladie, farewell.
Neece
Farewell sweete unckle till we meete againe.
Edward
Farewell sweete Gaveston, and farewell Neece.
Queene
No farewell, to poore Isabell, thy Queene?
Edward
Yes, yes, for Mortimer your lovers sake.
Exeunt omnes, manet Isabella.
Queene
Heavens can witnesse, I love none but you.
From my imbracements thus he breakes away,
O that mine armes could close this Ile about,
That I might pull him to me where I would,
Or that these teares that drissell from mine eyes,
Had power to mollifie his stonie hart,
That when I had him we might never part.
Enter the Barons, alarums.
Lancaster
I wonder how he scapt.
Mortimer
Whose this, the Queene?

Queene
I Mortimer, the miserable Queene,
Whose pining heart, her inward sighes have blasted,
And body with continuall moorning wasted:
These hands are tir'd, with haling of my lord
From Gaveston, from wicked Gaveston,
And all in vaine, for when I speake him faire,
He turnes away, and smiles upon his minion.

Mortimer
Cease to lament, and tell us wheres the king?

Queene
What would you with the king, ist him you seek?

Lancaster
No madam, but that cursed Gaveston.
Farre be it from the thought of Lancaster,
To offer violence to his soveraigne,
We would but rid the realme of Gaveston,
Tell us where he remaines, and he shall die.
Queene
Hees gone by water unto Scarborough,
Pursue him quicklie, and he cannot scape,
The king hath left him, and his traine is small.
Warwicke
Forslowe no time, sweet Lancaster lets march.
Mortimer
How comes it, that the king and he is parted ?
Queene
That this your armie going severall waies,
Might be of lesser force, and with the power
That he intendeth presentlie to raise,
Be easilie supprest: and therefore be gone.
Mortimer
Heere in the river rides a Flemish hoie,
Lets all aboord, and follow him amaine.

Lancaster.
The wind that bears him hence, wil fil our sailes,
Come, come aboord, tis but an houres sailing.

Mortimer
Madam, stay you within this castell here.

Queene
No Mortimer, ile to my lord the king.

Mortimer
Nay, rather saile with us to Scarborough.

Queene
You know the king is so suspitious,
As if he heare I have but talkt with you,
Mine honour will be cald in question,
And therefore gentle Mortimer be gone.

Mortimer
Madam, I cannot stay to answer you,
But thinke of Mortimer as he deserves.
[Exeunt Barons.]

Queene
So well hast thou deserv'de sweete Mortimer,
As Isabell could live with thee for ever,
In vaine I looke for love at Edwards hand,
Whose eyes are fixt on none but Gaveston:
Yet once more ile importune him with praiers,
If he be straunge and not regarde my wordes,
My sonne and I will over into France,
And to the king my brother there complaine,
How Gaveston hath robd me of his love:
But yet I hope my sorrowes will have end,
And Gaveston this blessed day be slaine.

Act Two Scene Five
Enter Gaveston pursued.
Gaveston
Yet lustie lords I have escapt your handes,
Your threats, your larums, and your hote pursutes,
And though devorsed from king Edwards eyes,
Yet liveth Pierce of Gaveston unsurprizd,
Breathing, in hope (malgrado all your beards,
That muster rebels thus against your king)
To see his royall soveraigne once againe.
Enter the Nobles.
Warwicke
Upon him souldiers, take away his weapons.
Mortimer
Thou proud disturber of thy countries peace,
Corrupter of thy king, cause of these broiles,
Base flatterer, yeeld, and were it not for shame,
Shame and dishonour to a souldiers name,
Upon my weapons point here shouldst thou fall,
And welter in thy goare.

Lancaster
Monster of men,
That like the Greekish strumpet traind to armes
And bloudie warres, so many valiant knights,
Looke for no other fortune wretch then death,
King Edward is not heere to buckler thee.
Warwicke. Lancaster, why talkst thou to the slave ?
Go souldiers take him hence, for by my sword,
His head shall off: Gaveston, short warning
Shall serve thy turne: it is our countries cause,
That here severelie we will execute
Upon thy person: hang him at a bough.
Gaveston
My Lord!
Warwicke
Souldiers, have him away:
But for thou wert the favorit of a King,
Thou shalt have so much honor at our hands.
Gaveston
I thanke you all my lords, then I perceive,
That heading is one, and hanging is the other,
And death is all.
Enter earle of Arundell.
Lancaster
How now my lord of Arundell?
Arundell
My lords, king Edward greetes you all by me.
Warwicke
Arundell, say your message.
Arundell
His majesty,
Hearing that you had taken Gaveston,
Intreateth you by me, yet but he may
See him before he dies, for why he saies,
And sends you word, he knowes that die he shall,
And if you gratifie his grace so farre,
He will be mindfull of the curtesie.
Warwicke
How now?
Gaveston
Renowmed Edward, how thy name
Revives poore Gaveston.
Warwicke
No, it needeth not.
Arundell, we will gratifie the king
In other matters, he must pardon us in this,
Souldiers away with him.
Gaveston
Why my Lord of Warwicke,
Will not these delaies beget my hopes?
I know it lords, it is this life you aime at,
Yet graunt king Edward this.
Mortimer
Shalt thou appoint
What we shall graunt? Souldiers away with him:
Thus weele gratifie the king,
Weele send his head by thee, let him bestow
His teares on that, for that is all he gets
of Gaveston, or else his sencelesse trunck.

Lancaster
Not so my Lord, least he bestow more cost,
In burying him, then he hath ever earned.
Arundell My lords, it is his majesties request,
And in the honor of a king he sweares,
He will but talke with him and send him backe.
Warwicke
When, can you tell ? Arundell no,
We wot, he that the care of realme remits,
And drives his nobles to these exigents
For Gaveston, will if he seaze zease sees him once,
Violate any promise to possesse him.
Arundell
Then if you will not trust his grace in keepe;
My lords, I will be pledge for his returne.
Mortimer
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 theefe.

Gaveston
How meanst thou Mortimer? that is over base.
Mortimer
Away base groome, robber of kings renowme,
Question with thy companions and thy mates.
Penbrooke
My lord Mortimer, and you my lords each one,
To gratifie the kings request therein,
Touching the sending of this Gaveston,
Because his majestie so earnestlie
Desires to see the man before his death,
I will upon mine honor undertake
To carrie him, and bring him back againe,
Provided this, that you my lord of Arundell
Will joyne with me.
Warwicke.
Penbrooke, what wilt thou do?
Cause yet more bloudshed: is it not enough
That we have taken him, but must we now
Leave him on had-I-wist, and let him go ?
Penbrooke
My lords, I will not over wooe your honors,
But if you dare trust Penbrooke with the prisoner,
Upon mine oath I will returne him back.
Arundell
My lord of Lancaster, what say you in this ?
Lancaster
Why I say, let him go onPenbrookes word.
Penbrooke
And you lord Mortimer?
Mortimer
How say you my lord of Warwick?
Warwicke
Nay, do your pleasures,I know how twill proove.

Penbrooke
Then give him me.

Gaveston
Sweete soveraigne, yet I come
To see thee ere I die.

Warwicke
Yet not perhaps, [Aside.]

If Warwickes wit and policile prevaile.
Mortimer
My lord of Penbrooke, we deliver him you,
Returne him on your honor. Sound, away.
Exeunt.
Manent Penbrooke, Arundell, Gaveston, and Penbrookes men, foure souldiers [, one of them James].
Penbrooke
My Lord, you shall go with me,
My house is not farre hence, out of the way
A little, but our men shall go along.
We that have prettie wenches to our wives,
Sir, must not come so neare and balke their lips.
Arundell
Tis verie kindlie spoke my lord of Penbrooke,
Your honor hath an adamant, of power
To drawe a prince.

Penbrooke
So my lord. Come hether 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 gon.
Gaveston
Unhappie Gaveston, whether goest thou now.
Exit [Gaveston] cum servis Penbrookis.
Horse boy
My lord, weele quicklie be at Cobham.

Act Two, Scene Six
Enter Gaveston moorning, and the earle of Penbrookes men [, James and three souldiers].
Gaveston
O treacherous Warwicke thus to wrong thy friend!
James
I see it is your life these armes pursue.
Gaveston
Weaponles must I fall and die in bands,
O must this day be period of my life,
Center of all my blisse! And yee be men,
Speede to the king.
Enter Warwicke and his companie.
Warwicke
My lord of Penbrookes men,
Strive you no longer, I will have that Gaveston.
James
Your lordship doth dishonor to your selfe,
And wrong our lord, your honorable friend.
Warwicke
No James, it is my countries cause I follow.
Goe, take the villaine, soldiers come away,
Weel make quick worke, commend me to your maister
My friend, and tell him that I watcht it well.
Come, let thy shadow parley with king Edward.
Gaveston
Treacherous earle, shall I not see the king ?
Warwicke
The king of heaven perhaps, no other king, Away.
Exeunt Warwicke and his men, with Gaveston.
Manet James cum caeteris.
James
Come fellowes, it booted not for us to strive,
We will in hast go certifie our Lord.

Act Three, Scene One
Enter king Edward and Spencer, [Baldock,] with Drummes and Fifes.
Edward
I long to heare an answer from the Barons
Touching my friend, my deerest Gaveston.
Ah Spencer, not the riches of my realme
Can ransome him, ah he is markt to die,
I know the malice of the yonger Mortimer,
Warwick I know is roughe, and Lancaster
Inexorable, and I shall never see
My lovely Pierce, my Gaveston againe,
The Barons overbeare me with their pride.
Spencer
Were I king Edward, Englands soveraigne,
Sonne to the lovelie Elenor of Spaine,
Great Edward Longshankes issue: would I beare
These braves, this rage, and suffer uncontrowld
These Barons thus to beard me in my land,
In mine owne realme? my lord pardon my speeche,
Did you retaine your fathers magnanimitie,
Did you regard the honor of your name,
You would not suffer thus your majestie
Be counterbuft of your nobilitie.
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 learne obedience to their lawfull king.
Edward
Yea gentle Spencer, we have beene too milde,
Too kinde to them, but now have drawne our sword,
And if they send me not my Gaveston,
Weele steele it on their crest, and powle their tops.
Baldock
This haught resolve becomes your majestie,
Not to be tied to their affection,
As though your highnes were a schoole boy still,
And must be awde and governd like a child.
Enter Hugh Spencer an old man, father to the yong Spencer, with his trunchion, and soldiers.
Spencer pater
Long live my soveraigne the noble Edward,
In peace triumphant, fortunate in warres.
Edward
Welcome old man, comst thou in Edwards aide?
Then tell thy prince, of whence, and what thou art.
Spencer pater
Loe, with a band of bowmen and of pikes,
Browne bils, and targetiers, foure hundred strong,
Sworne to defend king Edwards royall right,
I come in person to your majestie,
Spencer, the father of Hugh Spencer there,
Bound to your highnes everlastinglie,
For favors done in him, unto us all.
Edward
Thy father Spencer?
Spencer
True, and it like your grace,
That powres in lieu of all your goodnes showne,
His life, my lord, before your princely feete.
Edward
Welcome ten thousand times, old man againe.
Spencer, this love, this kindnes to thy King,
Argues thy noble minde and disposition:
Spencer, I heere create thee earle of Wilshire,
And daily will enrich thee with our favour,
That as the sun-shine shall reflect ore thee:
Beside, the more to manifest our love,
Because we heare Lord Bruse dooth sell his land,
And that the Mortimers are in hand withall,
Thou shalt have crownes of us, t'out bid the Barons,
And Spencer, spare them not, but lay it on.
Souldiers a largis, and thrice welcome all.
Spencer
My lord, here comes the Queene.
Enter the Queene and her sonne, and Levune a Frenchman.
Edward
Madam, what newes?
Queene
Newes of dishonor lord, and discontent,
Our friend Levune, faithfull and full of trust,
Informeth us, by letters and by words,
That lord Valoyes our brother, king of Fraunce,
Because your highnesse hath beene slack in homage,
Hath seazed Normandie into his hands.
These be the letters, this the messenger.
Edward
Welcome Levune, tush Sib, if this be all,
Valoys and I will soone be friends againe.
But to my Gaveston: shall I never see,
Never behold thee now? Madam in this matter
We will employ you and your little sonne,
You shall go parley with the king of Fraunce.
Boye, see you beare you bravelie to the king,
And do your message with a majestie.
Prince
Commit not to my youth things of more waight
Then fits a prince so yong as I to beare,
And feare not lord and father, heavens great beames
On Atlas shoulder, shall not lie more safe,
Then shall your charge committed to my trust.
Queene
A boye, this towardnes makes thy mother feare
Thou art not markt to many daies on earth.
Edward
Madam, we will that you with speed be shipt,
And this our sonne, Levune shall follow you,
With all the hast we can dispatch him hence.
Choose of our lords to beare you companie,
And go in peace, leave us in warres at home.
Queene
Unnatural wars, where subjects brave their king,
God end them once, my lord I take my leave,
To make my preparation for Fraunce.
Enter lord Arundell.
Edward
What lord Arundell, dost thou come alone?
Arundell
Yea my good lord, for Gaveston is dead.
Edward
Ah traitors, have they put my friend to death?
Tell me Arundell, died he ere thou camst,
Or didst thou see my friend to take his death?
Arundell. Neither my lord, for as he was surprizd,
Begirt with weapons, and with enemies round,
I did your highnes message to them all,
Demanding him of them, entreating rather,
And said, upon the honour of my name,
That I would undertake to carrie him
Unto your highnes, and to bring him back.
Edward
And tell me, would the rebels denie me that?
Spencer
Proud recreants.
Edward
Yea Spencer, traitors all.
Arundell
I found them at the first inexorable,
The earle of Warwick would not bide the hearing,
Mortimer hardly, Penbrooke and Lancaster
Spake least: and when they flatly had denyed,
Refusing to receive me pledge for him,
The earle of Penbrooke mildlie thus bespake.
My lords, because our soveraigne sends for him,
And promiseth he shall be safe returnd,
I will this undertake, to have him hence,
And see him redelivered to your hands.
Edward
Well, and how fortunes that he came not?
Spencer
Some treason, or some villanie was cause.
Arundell
The earle of Warwick seazde 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 laie,
And bare him to his death, and in a trenche
Strake off his head, and marcht unto the campe.
Spencer
A bloudie part, flatly against law of armes.
Edward
O shall I speake, or shall I sigh and die!
Spencer
My lord, referre your vengeance to the sword,
Upon these Barons, harten up your men,
Let them not unrevengd murther your friends,
Advaunce your standard Edward in the field,
And marche to fire them from their starting holes.
Edward kneeles, and saith.
By earth, the common mother of us all,
By heaven, and all the mooving orbes thereof,
By this right hand, and by my fathers sword,
And all the honors longing to my crowne,
I will have heads, and lives, for him as many,
As I have manors, castels, townes, and towers:
Tretcherous Warwicke, traiterous Mortimer,
If I be Englands king, in lakes of gore
Your headles trunkes, your bodies will I traile,
That you may drinke your fill, and quaffe in bloud,
And staine my roiall standard with the same,
That so my bloudie colours may suggest
Remembrance of revenge immortallie,
On your accursed traiterous progenie,
You villaines that have slaine my Gaveston:
And in this place of honor and of trust, [Rises.]

Spencer, sweet Spencer, I adopt thee heere,
And meerely of our love we do create thee
Earle of Gloster, and lord Chamberlaine,
Despite of times, despite of enemies.
Spencer
My lord, here is a messenger from the Barons,
Desires accesse unto your majestie.
Edward
Admit him neere.
Enter the Herald from the Barons, with his coate of armes.
Herald
Long live king Edward, Englands lawful lord.
Edward
So wish not they Iwis that sent thee hither,
Thou comst from Mortimer and his complices,
A ranker route of rebels never was:
Well, say thy message.
Herald
The Barons up in armes, by me salute
Your highnes, with long life and happines,
And bid me say as plainer to your grace,
That if without effusion of bloud,
You will this greefe have ease and remedie,
That from your princely person you remoove
This Spencer, as a putrifying branche,
That deads the royall vine, whose golden leaves
Empale your princelie head, your diadem,
Whose brightnes such pernitious upstarts dim,
Say they, and lovinglie advise your grace,
To cherish vertue and nobilitie,
And have old servitors in high esteeme,
And shake off smooth dissembling flatterers:
This graunted, they, their honors, and their lives,
Are to your highnesse vowd and consecrate.
Spencer
A traitors, will they still display their pride?
Edward
Away, tarrie no answer, but be gon.
Rebels, will they appoint their soveraigne
His sports, his pleasures, and his companie:
Yet ere thou go, see how I do devorce Embrace Spencer.

Spencer from me: now get thee to thy lords,
And tell them I will come to chastise them,
For murthering Gaveston: hie thee, get thee gone,
Edward with fire and sword, followes at thy heeles.
[Exit Herald.]
My lords, perceive you how these rebels swell:
Souldiers, good harts, defend your soveraignes right,
For now, even now, we marche to make them stoope,
Away. Exeunt.

Alarums, excursions, a great fight, and a retreate.
Enter the King, Spencer the father, Spencer the sonne, and the noblemen of the kings side.
Edward
Why do we sound retreat? upon them lords,
This day I shall powre vengeance with my sword
On those proud rebels that are up in armes,
And do confront and countermaund their king.
Spencer
I doubt it not my lord, right will prevaile.
Spencer pater
Tis not amisse my liege for eyther part,
To breathe a while, our men with sweat and dust
All chockt well neare, begin to faint for heate,
And this retire refresheth horse and man.
Spencer
Heere come the rebels.
Enter the Barons, Mortimer, Lancaster, Warwick, Penbrooke, cum caeteris.
Mortimer
Looke Lancaster,
Yonder is Edward among his flatterers.

Lancaster
And there let him bee,
Till hee pay deerely for their companie.

Warwicke
And shall or Warwicks sword shal smite in vaine.

Edward
What rebels, do you shrinke, and sound retreat ?

Mortimer
No Edward, no, thy flatterers faint and flie.

Lancaster
Th'ad best betimes forsake them and their trains,
For theile betray thee, traitors as they are.
Spencer
Traitor on thy face, rebellious Lancaster.
Penbrooke
Away base upstart, brav'st thou nobles thus?
Spenser pater
A noble attempt, and honourable deed,
Is it not, trowe ye, to assemble aide,
And levie armes against your lawfull king?
Edward
For which ere long, their heads shall satisfie,
T'appeaze the wrath of their offended king.
Mortimer
Then Edward, thou wilt fight it to the last,
And rather bathe thy sword in subjects bloud,
Then banish that pernicious companie?
Edward
I traitors all, rather then thus be bravde,
Make Englands civill townes huge heapes of stones,
And plowes to go about our pallace gates.
Warwicke
A desperate and unnaturall resolution,
Alarum to the fight,
Saint George for England, and the Barons right.
Edward
Saint George for England, and king Edwards right.
[Exeunt severally. Alarums.]
Enter Edward, with the Barons [and Kent] captives.
Edward
Now lustie lords, now not by chance of warre,
But justice of the quarrell and the cause,
Vaild is your pride: me thinkes you hang the heads,
But weele advance them traitors, now tis time
To be avengd on you for all your braves,
And for the murther of my deerest friend,
To whome right well you knew our soule was knit,
Good Pierce of Gaveston my sweet favoret,
A rebels, recreants, you made him away.
Kent
Brother, in regard of thee and of thy land,
Did they remoove that flatterer from thy throne.
Edward
So sir, you have spoke, away, avoid our presence.
[Exit Kent.]
Accursed wretches, wast in regard of us,
When we had sent our messenger to request
He might be spared to come to speake with us,
And Penbrooke undertooke for his returne,
That thou proud Warwicke watcht the prisoner,
Poore Pierce, and headed him against lawe of armes?
For which thy head shall over looke the rest,
As much as thou in rage out wentst the rest.
Warwicke
Tyrant, I scorne thy threats and menaces,
Tis but temporall that thou canst inflict.
Lancaster
The worst is death, and better die to live,
Then live in infamie under such a king.
Edward
Away with them: my lord of Winchester,
These lustie leaders Warwicke and Lancaster,
I charge you roundly off with both their heads,
Away.
Warwicke
Farewell vaine worlde.
Lancaster
Sweete Mortimer farewell.
[Barons led off by Spencer pater.]
Mortimer.
England, unkinde to thy nobilitie,
Grone for this greefe, behold how thou art maimed.
Edward
Go take that haughtie Mortimer to the tower,
There see him safe bestowed, and for the rest,
Do speedie execution on them all,
Be gon.
Mortimer
What Mortimer? can ragged stonie walles
Immure thy vertue that aspires to heaven?
No Edward, Englands scourge, it may not be,
Mortimers hope surmounts his fortune farre.
[Exit guarded.]
Edward
Sound drums and trumpets, marche with me my friends,
Edward this day hath crownd him king a new. Exit [attended].

Manent Spencer filius, Levune and Baldock.
Spencer.
Levune, the trust that we repose in thee,
Begets the quiet of king Edwards land,
Therefore be gon in hast, and with advice,
Bestowe that treasure on the lords of Fraunce,
That therewith all enchaunted like the guarde,
That suffered Jove to passe in showers of golde
To Danae, all aide may be denied
To Isabell the Queene, that now in France
Makes friends, to crosse the seas with her yong sonne,
And step into his fathers regiment.
Levune.
Thats it these Barons and the subtill Queene,
Long leveld at.
Baldock
Yea, but Levune thou seest,
These Barons lay their heads on blocks together,
What they intend, the hangman frustrates cleane.
Levune
Have you no doubts my lords, ile clap so close,
Among the lords of France with Englands golde,
That Isabell shall make her plaints in vaine,
And Fraunce shall be obdurat with her teares.
Spencer
Then make for Fraunce amaine, Levune away,
Proclaime king Edwards warres and victories.

Act Four, Scene One
Enter Edmund [earle of Kent].
Kent
Faire blowes the winde for Fraunce, blowe gentle gale,
Till Edmund be arrivde for Englands good,
Nature, yeeld to my countries cause in this.
A brother, no, a butcher of thy friends,
Proud Edward, doost thou banish me thy presence?
But ile to Fraunce, and cheere the wronged Queene,
And certifie what Edwards loosenes is.
Unnaturall king, to slaughter noble men
And cherish flatterers:
Mortimer I stay thy sweet escape,
Stand gratious gloomie night to his device.
Enter Mortimer disguised.
Mortimer
Holla, who walketh there, ist you my lord ?
Kent. Mortimer tis I,
But hath thy potion wrought so happilie?
Mortimer
It hath my lord, the warders all a sleepe,
I thanke them, gave me leave to passe in peace:
But hath your grace got shipping unto Fraunce?
Kent
Feare it not.

Act Four, Scene Two
Enter the Queene and her sonne.
Queene
A boye, our friends do faile us all in Fraunce,
The lords are cruell, and the king unkinde,
What shall we doe?
Prince
Madam, returne to England,
And please my father well, and then a Fig
For all my unckles frienship here in Fraunce.
I warrant you, ile winne his highnes quicklie,
A loves me better than a thousand Spencers.
Queene
A boye, thou art deceivde at least in this,
To thinke that we can yet be tun'd together,
No, no, we jarre too farre. Unkinde Valoys,
Unhappie Isabell, when Fraunce rejects,
whether, O whether doost thou bend thy steps?
Enter sir John of Henolt.
Sir John
Madam, what cheere?
Queene
A good sir John of Henolt,
Never so cheereles, nor so farre distrest.
Sir John
I heare sweete lady of the kings unkindenes,
But droope not madam, noble mindes contemne
Despaire: will your grace with me to Henolt,
And there stay times advantage with your sonne?
How say you my Lord, will you go with your friends,
And shake off all our fortunes equallie?
Prince
So pleaseth the Queene my mother, me it likes.
The king of England, nor the court of Fraunce,
Shall have me from my gratious mothers side,
Till I be strong enough to breake a staffe,
And then have at the proudest Spencers head.
Sir John
Well said my lord.
Queene
Oh my sweet hart, how do I mone thy wrongs,
Yet triumphe in the hope of thee my joye?
Ah sweete sir John, even to the utmost verge
of Europe, or the shore of Tanaise,
Will we with thee to Henolt, so we will.
The Marques is a noble Gentleman,
His grace I dare presume will welcome me,
But who are these?
Enter Edmund [earle of Kent] and Mortimer.
Kent
Madam, long may you live,
Much happier then your friends in England do.
Queene
Lord Edmund and lord Mortimer alive?
Welcome to Fraunce: the newes was heere my lord,
That you were dead, or very neare your death.
Mortimer
Lady, the last was truest of the twaine,
But Mortimer reservde for better hap,
Hath shaken off the thraldome of the tower,
And lives t'advance your standard good my lord.
Prince
How meane you, and the king my father lives ?
No my lord Mortimer, not I, I trow.
Queene
Not sonne, why not? I would it were no worse,
But gentle lords, friendles we are in Fraunce.
Mortimer
Mounsier le Grand, a noble friend of yours,
Tould us at our arrivall all the newes,
How hard the nobles, how unkinde the king
Hath shewed himself: but madam, right makes roome,
Where weapons awant, and though a many friends
Are made away, as Warwick, Lancaster,
And others of our partie and faction,
Yet have we friends, assure your grace, in England
Would cast up cappes, and clap their hands for joy,
To see us there appointed for our foes.

Kent
Would all were well, and Edward well reclaimd,
For Englands honor, peace, and quietnes.
Mortimer
But by the sword, my lord, it must be deserv'd.
The king will nere forsake his flatterers.
Sir John
My Lords of England, sith the ungentle king
Of Fraunce refuseth to give aide of armes,
To this distressed Queene his sister heere,
Go you with her to Henolt: doubt yee not,
We will finde comfort, money, men, and friends
Ere long, to bid the English king a base.
How say yong Prince, what thinke you of the match ?
Prince
I thinke king Edward will out-run us all.
Queene
Nay sonne, not so, and you must not discourage
Your friends that are so forward in your aide.
Kent
Sir John of Henolt, pardon us I pray,
These comforts that you give our wofull queene,
Binde us in kindenes all at your commaund.
Queene
Yea gentle brother, and the God of heaven,
Prosper your happie motion good sir John.
Mortimer
This noble gentleman, forward in armes,
Was borne I see to be our anchor hold.
Sir John of Henolt, be it thy renowne,
That Englands Queene, and nobles in distresse,
Have beene by thee restored and comforted.
Sir John
Madam along, and you my lord, with me,
That Englands peeres may Henolts welcome see.

Act Four, Scene Three
Enter the King, Arundell, the two Spencers, with others.
Edward
Thus after many threats of wrathfull warre, Triumpheth
Englands Edward with his friends,
And triumph Edward with his friends uncontrould.
My lord of Gloster, do you heare the newes ?
Spencer
What newes my lord ?
Edward
Why man, they say there is great execution
Done through the realme, my lord of Arundell
You have the note, have you not?
Arundell
From the lieutenant of the tower my lord.
Edward
I pray let us see it, what have we there?
Read it Spencer. Spencerreads their names.

Why so, they barkt a pace a month agoe,
Now on my life, theile neither barke nor bite.
Now sirs, the newes from Fraunce. Gloster, I trowe
The lords of Fraunce love Englands gold so well,
As Isabella Isabell Q1-4, Dd1- gets no aide from thence.
What now remaines, have you proclaimed, my lord,
Reward for them can bring in Mortimer?
Spencer
My lord, we have, and if he be in England,
A will be had ere long I doubt it not.
Edward
If, doost thou say? Spencer, as true as death,
He is in Englands ground, our port-maisters
Are not so careles of their kings commaund.
Enter a Poaste.
How now, what newes with thee, from whence come these ?
Post.
Letters my lord, and tidings foorth of Fraunce,
To you my lord of Gloster from Levune.
Edward
Reade.
Spencer reades the letter.

My dutie to your honor premised, &c. I have according to instruc-
tions in that behalfe, dealt with the king of Fraunce his lords, and
effected, that the Queene all discontented and discomforted, is
gone,whither if you aske, with sir John of Henolt, brother to the
Marquesse, 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 battell in England, sooner then he can looke for them:
this is all the newes of import.
Your honors in all service, Levune.

Edward
A villaines, hath that Mortimer escapt?
With him is Edmund gone associate?
And will sir John of Henolt lead the round ?
Welcome a Gods name Madam and your sonne,
England shall welcome you, and all your route.
Gallop a pace bright Phoebus through the skie,
And duskie night, in rustie iron carre:
Betweene 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 greeves me but my little boye,
Is thus misled to countenance their ils.
Come friends to Bristow, there to make us strong,
And windes as equall be to bring them in,
As you injurious were to beare them foorth.

Act Four, Scene Four
Enter the Queene, her sonne, Edmund [earle of Kent], Mortimer, and sir John.
Queene
Now lords, our loving friends and countrimen,
Welcome to England all with prosperous windes,
Our kindest friends in Belgia have we left,
To cope with friends at home: a heavie case,
When force to force is knit, and sword and gleave
In civill broiles makes kin and country men
Slaughter themselves in others and their sides
With their owne weapons gorde, but whats the helpe?
Misgoverned kings are cause of all this wrack,
And Edward thou art one among them all,
Whose loosnes hath betrayed thy land to spoyle,
And made the channels overflow with blood,
Of thine own people patron shouldst thou be
But thou---
Mortimer
Nay madam, if you be a warriar,
Ye must not grow so passionate in speeches:
Lords, sith that we are by sufferance of heaven,
Arrivde and armed in this princes right,
Heere for our countries cause sweare we to him
All homage, fealtie and forwardnes,
And for the open wronges and injuries
Edward hath done to us, his Queene and land,
We come in armes to wrecke it with the sword:
That Englands queene in peace may reposesse
Her dignities and honors, and withall
We may remoove these flatterers from the king,
That havocks Englands wealth and treasurie.
Sir John
Sound trumpets my lord and forward let us martch,
Edward will thinke we come to flatter him.
Kent
I would he never had bin flattered more.

Act Four, Scene Five
Enter the King, Baldock, and Spencer the sonne, flying about the stage.
Spencer
Fly, fly, my Lord, the Queene is over strong,
Her friends doe multiply and yours doe fayle,
Shape we our course to Ireland there to breath.
Edward
What, was I borne to flye and runne away,
And leave the Mortimers conquerers behind ?
Give me my horse and lets r'enforce our troupes:
And in this bed of honor die with fame.
Baldock
O no my lord, this princely resolution
Fits not the time, away, we are pursu'd.

Act Four, Scene Six
[Enter] Edmund [earle of Kent] alone with a sword and target.
Kent
This way he fled, but I am come too late.
Edward, alas my hart relents for thee,
Proud traytor Mortimer why doost thou chase
Thy lawfull king thy soveraigne with thy sword ?
Vilde wretch, and why hast thou of all unkinde,
Borne armes against thy brother and thy king?
Raigne showers of vengeance on my cursed head
Thou God, to whom in justice it belongs
To punish this unnaturall revolt:
Edward, this Mortimer aimes at thy life:
O fly him then, but Edmund calme this rage,
Dissemble or thou diest, for Mortimer
And Isabell doe kisse while they conspire,
And yet she beares 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 neare into thy walkes.
Enter the Queene, Mortimer, the young Prince and Sir John of Henolt.
Queene
Succesfull battells gives the God of kings,
To them that fight in right and feare his wrath:
Since then succesfully we have prevayled,
Thankes be heavens great architect and you.
Ere farther we proceede my noble lordes,
We heere create our welbeloved sonne,
Of love and care unto his royall person,
Lord warden of the realme, and sith the fates
Have made his father so infortunate,
Deale you my lords in this, my loving lords,
As to your wisdomefittest seemes in all.
Kent
Madam, without offence if I may aske,
How will you deale with Edward in his fall?
Prince
Tell me good unckle, what Edward doe you meane?
Kent
Nephew, your father, I dare not call him king.
Mortimer
My lord of Kent, what needes these questions ?
Tis not in her controulment, nor in ours,
But as the realme and parlement shall please,
So shall your brother be disposed of.
I like not this relenting moode in Edmund,[To Queene.]

Madam, tis good to looke to him betimes.
Queene
My lord, the Maior of Bristow knows our mind.
Mortimer
Yea madam, and they scape not easilie,
That fled the feeld.
Queene
Baldock is with the king,
A goodly chauncelor, is he not my lord ?
Sir John
So are the Spencers, the father and the sonne.
Kent
This, Edward, is the ruine of the realme.
[Aside.]
Enter Rice ap Howell, and the Maior of Bristow, with Spencer the father.
Rice
God save Queene Isabell, and her princely sonne.
Madam, the Maior and Citizens of Bristow,
In signe of love and dutie to this presence,
Present by me this traitor to the state,
Spencer, the father to that wanton Spencer,
That like the lawles Catiline of Rome,
Reveld in Englands wealth and treasurie.
Queene
We thanke you all.
Mortimer
Your loving care in this,
Deserveth princelie favors and rewardes,
But wheres the king and the other Spencer fled?
Rice. Spencer the sonne, created earle of Gloster,
Is with that smoothe toongd scholler Baldock gone,
And shipt but late for Ireland with the king.
Mortimer
Some whirle winde fetche them backe, or sincke them all:---
[Aside.]
They shalbe started thence I doubt it not.
Prince
Shall I not see the king my father yet?
Kent
Unhappie Edward, chaste from Englands bounds.
[Aside.]
Sir John
Madam, what resteth, why stand ye in a muse?
Queene
I rue my lords ill fortune, but alas,
Care of my countrie cald me to this warre.
Mortimer.
Madam, have done with care and sad complaint,
Your king hath wrongd your countrie and himselfe,
And we must seeke to right it as we may,
Meane while, have hence this rebell to the blocke,
Your lordship cannot priviledge your head.
Spencer pater
Rebell is he that fights against his prince,
So fought not they that fought in Edwards right.
Mortimer
Take him away, he prates. You Rice ap Howell,
[Spencer led off]
Shall do good service to her Majestie,
Being of countenance in your countrey here,
To follow these rebellious runnagates.
We in meane while madam, must take advise,
How Baldocke, Spencer, and their complices,
May in their fall be followed to their end.

Act Four, Scene Seven
Enter the Abbot, Monkes, Edward, Spencer, and Baldocke [disguised as monks].
Abbot
Have you no doubt my Lorde, have you no feare,
As silent and as carefull will we be,
To keepe your royall person safe with us,
Free from suspect, and fell invasion
Of such as have your majestie in chase,
Your selfe, and those your chosen companie,
As daunger of this stormie time requires.
Edward
Father, thy face should harbor no deceit,
O hadst thou ever beene a king, thy hart
Pierced deeply with sence of my distresse,
Could not but take compassion of my state.
Stately and proud, in riches and in traine,
Whilom I was, powerfull and full of pompe,
But what is he, whome rule and emperie
Have not in life or death made miserable?
Come Spencer, come Baldocke, come sit downe by me,
Make triall now of that philosophie,
That in Our famous nurseries of artes
Thou suckedst 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 dishonor they pursue,
Yet gentle monkes, for treasure, golde nor fee,
Do you betray us and our companie.
Monk
Your grace may sit secure, if none but wee
Doe wot of your abode.
Spencer
Not one alive, but shrewdly I suspect,
A gloomie fellow in a meade belowe,
A gave a long looke after us my lord,
And all the land I know is up in armes,
Armes that pursue our lives with deadly hate.
Baldock
We were imbarkt for Ireland, wretched we,
With awkward windes, and sore tempests driven
To fall on shoare, and here to pine in feare
Of Mortimer and his confederates.
Edward. Mortimer, who talkes of Mortimer,
Who wounds me with the name of Mortimer
That bloudy man? good father on thy lap
Lay I this head, laden with mickle care,
O might I never open these eyes againe,
Never againe lift up this drooping head,
O never more lift up this dying hart!
Spencer
Looke up my lord. Baldock, this drowsines
Betides no good, here even we are betraied.
Enter with Welch hookes, Rice ap Howell, a Mower, and the Earle of Leicester.
Mower
Upon my life, those be the men ye seeke.
Rice
Fellow enough: my lord I pray be short,
A faire commission warrants what we do.
Leister
The Queenes commission, urgd by Mortimer, [Aside.]

What cannot gallant Mortimer with the Queene?
Alas, see where he sits, and hopes unseene,
T'escape their hands that seeke to reave his life:
Too true it is, quem dies vidit veniens superbum,
Hunc dies vidit fugiens jacentem.
But Lecister leave to growe so passionate,
Spencer and Baldocke, by no other names,
I arrest you of high treason here,
Stand not on titles, but obay th'arrest,
Tis in the name of Isabell the Queene:
My lord, why droope you thus ?
Edward
O day! the last of all my blisse on earth,
Center of all misfortune. O my starres!
Why do you lowre unkindly on a king?
Comes Lecister then in Isabellas name,
To take my life, my companie from me?
Here man, rip up this panting brest of mine,
And take my heart, in reskew of my friends.
Rice
Away with them.
Spencer
It may become thee yet,
To let us take our farewell of his grace.
Abbot
My heart with pittie earnes to see this sight,
A king to beare these words and proud commaunds.
Edward
Spencer,
A sweet Spencer, thus then must we part.
Spencer
We must my lord, so will the angry heavens.
Edward
Nay so will hell, and cruell Mortimer,
The gentle heavens have not to do in this.
Baldock
My lord, it is in vaine to greeve or storme,
Here humblie of your grace we take our leaves,
Our lots are cast, I feare me so is thine.
Edward
In heaven wee may, in earth never shall wee meete, And
Lecister say, what shall become of us ?
Leister
Your majestie must go to Killingworth.
Edward
Must! tis somwhat hard, when kings must go.
Leister
Here is a Litter readie for your grace,
That waites your pleasure, and the day growes old.
Rice
As good be gon, as stay and be benighted.
Edward
A litter hast thou, lay me in a hearse,
And to the gates of hell convay me hence,
Let Plutos bels ring out my fatall knell,
And hags howle 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.
Edward
Well, that shalbe, shalbe: part we must,
Sweete Spencer, gentle Baldocke, part we must.
Hence fained weeds, unfained are my woes,
Father, farewell: Leister, thou staist for me,
And go I must, life farewell with my friends.
Exeunt Edward and Leicester.
Spencer
O is he gone! is noble Edward gone,
Parted from hence, never to see us more!
Rent sphere of heaven, and fier forsake thy orbe,
Earth melt to ayre, gone is my soveraigne,
Gone, gone alas, never to make returne.
Baldock.
Spencer, I see our soules are fleeted hence,
We are deprivde the sun-shine of our life,
Make for a new life man, throw up thy eyes,
And hart and hand to heavens immortall throne,
Pay natures debt with cheerefull countenance,
Reduce we all our lessons unto this,
To die sweet Spencer, therefore live wee all,
Spencer, all live to die, and rise to fall.
Rice.
Come, come, keepe these preachments till you come to the
place appointed. You, and such as you are, have made wise worke
in England.
Will your Lordships away?
Mower
Your worship I trust will remember me?
Rice
Remember thee fellow? what else?
Follow me to the towne.

Act Five, Scene One
Enter the King, Leicester, with a Bishop [of Winchester] for the crowne [and Trussell].
Leister
Be patient good my lord, cease to lament,
Imagine Killingworth castell were your court
And that you lay for pleasure here a space,
Not of compulsion or necessitie.
Edward.
Leister, if gentle words might comfort me,
Thy speeches long agoe had easde my sorrowes,
For kinde and loving hast thou alwaies beene:
The greefes of private men are soone allayde,
But not of kings: the forrest Deare being strucke
Runnes to an herbe that closeth up the wounds,
But when the imperiall Lions flesh is gorde,
He rends and teares it with his wrathfull pawe,
And highly scorning, that the lowly earth
Should drinke his bloud, mounts up into the ayre:
And so it fares with me, whose dauntlesse minde
The ambitious Mortimer would seeke to curbe,
And that unnaturall Queene false Isabell,
That thus hath pent and mu'd me in a prison,
For such outragious passions cloye my soule,
As with the wings of rancor and disdaine,
Full often am I sowring up to heaven,
To plaine me to the gods against them both:
But when I call to minde I am a king,
Me thinkes I should revenge me of the wronges,
That Mortimer and Isabell have done.
But what are kings, when regiment is gone,
But perfect shadowes in a sun-shine day?
My nobles rule, I beare the name of king,
I weare the crowne, but am contrould by them,
By Mortimer, and my unconstant Queene,
Who spots my nuptiall bed with infamie,
Whilst I am lodgd within this cave of care,
Where sorrow at my elbow still attends,
To companie my hart with sad laments,
That bleedes within me for this strange exchange.
But tell me, must I now resigne my crowne,
To make usurping Mortimer a king ?
Bishop
Your grace mistakes, it is for Englands good,
And princely Edwards right we crave the crowne.
Edward
No, tis for Mortimer, not Edwards head,
For hees a lambe, encompassed by Woolves,
Which in a moment will abridge his life:
But if proud Mortimer do weare this crowne,
Heavens turne it to a blaze of quenchelesse fier,
Or like the snakie wreathe of Tisiphon,
Engirt the temples of his hatefull head,
So shall not Englands Vine be perished,
But Edwards name survives, though Edward dies.
Leister
My lord, why waste you thus the time away,
They stay your answer, will you yeeld your crowne?
Edward
Ah Leister, way how hardly I can brooke
To loose my crowne and kingdome, without cause,
To give ambitious Mortimer my right,
That like a mountaine overwhelmes my blisse,
In which extreame my minde here murthered is:
But what the heavens appoint, I must obaye,
Here, take my crowne, the life of Edward too,
Two kings in England cannot raigne at once:
But stay a while, let me be king till night,
That I may gaze upon this glittering crowne,
So shall my eyes receive their last content,
My head, the latest honor dew to it,
And joyntly both yeeld up their wished right.
Continue ever thou celestiall sunne,
Let never silent night possesse this clime,
Stand still you watches of the element,
All times and seasons rest you at a stay,
That Edward may be still faire Englands king:
But dayes bright beames dooth vanish fast away,
And needes I must resigne my wished crowne.
Inhumaine creatures, nurst with Tigers milke,
Why gape you for your soveraignes overthrow ?
My diadem I meane, and guiltlesse life.
See monsters see, ile weare my crowne againe,
What, feare you not the furie of your king?
But haplesse Edward, thou art fondly led,
They passe not for thy frownes as late they did,
But seekes to make a new elected king,
Which fils my mind with strange despairing thoughts,
Which thoughts are martyred with endles torments.
And in this torment, comfort finde I none,
But that I feele the crowne upon my head,
And therefore let me weare it yet a while.
Trussell
My Lorde, the parlement must have present newes,
And therefore say, will you resigue or no.
The king rageth.
Edward
Ile not resigne, but whilst I live, be king.
Traitors be gon, and joine you with Mortimer,
Elect, conspire, install, do what you will,
Their bloud and yours shall seale these treacheries.
Bishop
This answer weele returne, and so farewell.
Leister
Call them againe my lorde, and speake them faire,
For if they goe, the prince shall lose his right.
Edward
Call thou them back, I have no power to speake.
Leister
My lord, the king is willing to resigne.
Bishop
If he be not, let him choose.
Edward
O would I might, but heavens and earth conspire
To make me miserable: heere receive my crowne.
Receive it ? no, these innocent hands of mine
Shall not be guiltie of so foule a crime.
He of you all that most desires my bloud,
And will be called the murtherer of a king,
Take it: what are you moovde, pitie you me ?
Then send for unrelenting Mortimer
And Isabell, whose eyes being turnd to steele,
Will sooner sparkle fire then shed a teare:
Yet stay, for rather then I will looke on them,
Heere, heere: now sweete God of heaven,
Make me despise this transitorie pompe,
And sit for aye inthronized in heaven,
Come death, and with thy fingers close my eyes,
Or if I live, let me forget my selfe.
Bishop
My lorde---
Edward
Call me not lorde, away, out of my sight:
Ah pardon me, greefe makes me lunatick.
Let not that Mortimer protect my sonne,
More safetie is there in a Tigers jawes,
Then his imbrasements: beare this to the queene,
Wet with my teares, and dried againe with sighes,
If with the sight thereof she be not mooved,
Returne it backe and dip it in my bloud.
Commend me to my sonne, and bid him rule
Better then I, yet how have I transgrest,
Unlesse it be with too much clemencie?
Trussell
And thus, most humbly do we take our leave.
[Exeunt Bishop of Winchester and Trussell.]
Edward
Farewell, I know the next newes that they bring,
Will be my death, and welcome shall it be,
To wretched men death is felicitie.
[Enter Bartley to Leister with letter.]
Leister
An other poast, what newes bringes he?
Edward
Such newes as I expect, come Bartley, come,
And tell thy message to my naked brest.
Bartley
My lord, thinke not a thought so villanous
Can harbor in a man of noble birth.
To do your highnes service and devoire,
And save you from your foes, Bartley would die.
Leister
My lorde, the counsell of the Queene commaunds,
That I resigne my charge.
Edward
And who must keepe mee now, must you my lorde?
Bartley
I, my most gratious lord, so tis decreed.
Edward
By Mortimer, whose name is written here,
Well may I rent his name, that rends my hart.
This poore revenge hath something easd my minde,
So may his limmes be torne, as is this paper,
Heare me immortall Jove, and graunt it too.
Bartley
Your grace must hence with mee to Bartley straight.
Edward
whether you will, all places are alike,
And every earth is fit for buriall.
Leister
Favor him my lord, as much as lieth in you.
Bartley
Even so betide my soule as I use him.
Edward
Mine enemie hath pitied my estate,
And thats the cause that I am now remoovde.
Bartley
And thinkes your grace that Bartley will bee cruell?
Edward
I know not, but of this am I assured,
That death ends all, and I can die but once.
Leicester, farewell.
Leister
Not yet my lorde, ile beare you on your waye.

Act Five, Scene Two
Enter Mortimer, and Queene Isabell.
Mortimer
Faire Isabell now have we our desire,
The proud corrupters of the light-brainde king,
Have done their homage to the loftie gallowes,
And he himselfe lies in captivitie.
Be rulde by me, and we will rule the realme,
In any case, take heed of childish feare,
For now we hould an old Wolfe by the eares,
That if he slip will seaze upon us both,
And gripe the sorer being gript himselfe.
Thinke therefore madam that imports us much,
To erect your sonne with all the speed we may,
And that I be protector over him,
For our behoofe will beare the greater sway
When as a kings name shall be under writ.
Queene
Sweet Mortimer, the life of Isabell
Be thou perswaded, that I love thee well,
And therefore so the prince my sonne be safe,
Whome I esteeme as deare as these mine eyes,
Conclude against his father what thou wilt,
And I my selfe will willinglie subscribe.
Mortimer
First would I heare newes that hee were deposde,
And then let me alone to handle him.
Enter Messenger [and then Bishop of Winchester with the crown].
Letters from whence ?

Messenger
From Killingworth my lorde.

Queene
How fares my lord the king ?

Messenger
In health madam, but full of pensivenes.

Queene
Alas poore soule, would I could ease his greefe.
Thankes gentle Winchester: sirra, be gon.
[Exit Messenger.]
Bishop
The king hath willingly resignde his crowne.
Queene
O happie newes, send for the prince my sonne.
Bishop
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 pitifull,
As Leicester that had charge of him before.
Queene
Then let some other be his guardian.
[Exit Winchester.]
Mortimer
Let me alone, here is the privie seale,
Whose there? call hither Gurney and Matrevis.
To dash the heavie headed Edmunds drift,
Bartley shall be dischargd, the king remoovde,
And none but we shall know where he lieth.
Queene
But Mortimer, as long as he survives
What safetie rests for us, or for my sonne?
Mortimer
Speake, shall he presently be dispatch'd and die?
Queen
I would hee were, so it ere not by my meanes.
Enter Matrevis and Gurney.
Mortimer
Inough.
Matrevis, write a letter presently
Unto the Lord of Bartley from our selfe,
That he resigne the king to thee and Gurney,
And when tis done, we will subscribe our name.
Matrevis
It shall be done my lord.
Mortimer.
Gurney.
Gurney
My Lorde.
Mortimer
As thou intendest to rise by Mortimer,
Who now makes Fortunes wheele turne as he please,
Seeke all the meanes thou canst to make him droope,
And neither give him kinde word, nor good looke.

Gurney
I warrant you my lord.

Mortimer
And this above the rest, because we heare
That Edmund casts to worke his libertie,
Remoove him still from place to place by night,
Till at the last, he come to Killingworth,
And then from thence to Bartley back againe:
And by the way to make him fret the more,
Speake curstlie to him, and in any case
Let no man comfort him, if he chaunce to weepe,
But amplifie his greefe with bitter words.
Matrevis
Feare not my Lord, weele do as you commaund.
Mortimer
So now away, post thither wards amaine.

Queene
Whither goes this letter, to my lord the king?
Commend me humblie to his Majestie,
And tell him, that I labour all in vaine,
To ease his greefe, and worke his libertie:
And beare him this, as witnesse of my love.
A ring.

Matrevis
I will madam.
Exeunt Matrevis and Gurney. Manent Isabell and Mortimer.
Enter the yong Prince, and the Earle of Kent talking with him.

Mortimer
Finely dissembled, do so still sweet Queene.
Heere comes the yong prince, with the Earle of Kent.
Queene
Some thing he whispers in his childish eares.
Mortimer.
If he have such accesse unto the prince,
Our plots and stratagems will soone be dasht.
Queene
Use Edmund friendly, as if all were well.
Mortimer
How fares my honorable lord of Kent?

Kent
In health sweete Mortimer, how fares your grace?
Queene
Well, if my Lorde your brother were enlargde.
Kent
I heare of late he hath deposde himselfe.
Queene
The more my greefe.
Mortimer
And mine.

Kent
Ah they do dissemble.
[Aside.]
Queene
Sweete sonne come hither, I must talke with thee.
Mortimer
Thou being his unckle, and the next of bloud,
Doe looke to be protector over the prince?
Kent
Not I my lord: who should protect the sonne,
But she that gave him life, I meane the Queene?
Prince
Mother, perswade me not to weare the crowne,
Let him be king, I am too yong to raigne.
Queene
But bee content, seeing it his highnesse pleasure.
Prince
Let me but see him first, and then I will.
Kent
I, do sweete Nephew.
Queene
Brother, you know it is impossible.
Prince
Why, is he dead ?
Queene
No, God forbid.
Kent
I would those wordes proceeded from your heart.
Mortimer
Inconstant Edmund, doost thou favor him,
That wast a cause of his imprisonment?

Kent
The more cause have I now to make amends.
Mortimer
I tell thee tis not meet, that one so false
Should come about the person of a prince.
My lord, he hath betraied the king his brother,
And therefore trust him not.
Prince
But hee repents, and sorrowes for it now.
Queene
Come sonne, and go with this gentle Lorde and me.
Prince
With you I will, but not with Mortimer.
Mortimer
Why yongling, s'dainst thou so of Mortimer?
Then I will carrie thee by force away.
Prince
Helpe unckle Kent, Mortimer will wrong me.
Queene
Brother Edmund, strive not, we are his friends,
Isabell is neerer then the earle of Kent.
Kent
Sister, Edward is my charge, redeeme him.
Queene.
Edward is my sonne, and I will keepe him. [Is going off]

Kent.
Mortimer shall know that he hath wrongde mee.
Hence will I haste to Killingworth castle,
And rescue aged Edward from his foes,
To be revengde on Mortimer and thee.

Act Five, Scene Three
Enter Matrevis and Gurney with the King [and souldiers].
Matrevis
My lord, be not pensive, we are your friends.
Men are ordaind to live in miserie,
Therefore come, dalliance dangereth our lives.
Edward
Friends, whither must unhappie Edward go,
Will hatefull Mortimer appoint no rest?
Must I be vexed like the nightly birde,
Whose sight is loathsome to all winged fowles?
When will the furie of his minde asswage?
When will his hart be satisfied with bloud ?
If mine will serve, unbowell straight this brest,
And give my heart to Isabell and him,
It is the chiefest marke they levell at.
Gurney
Not so my liege, the Queene hath given this charge,
To keepe your grace in safetie,
Your passions make your dolours to increase.
Edward
This usage makes my miserie increase.
But can my ayre of life continue long,
When all my sences are anoyde with stenche?
Within a dungeon Englands king is kept,
Where I am sterv'd for want of sustenance,
My daily diet, is heart breaking sobs,
That almost rents the closet of my heart,
Thus lives old Edward not reliev'd by any,
And so must die, though pitied by many.
O water gentle friends to coole my thirst,
And cleare my bodie from foule excrements.
Matrevis
Heeres channell water, as our charge is given.
Sit downe, for weele be Barbars to your grace.
Edward
Traitors away, what will you murther me,
Or choake your soveraigne with puddle water?
Gurney
No, but wash your face, and shave away your beard,
Least you be knowne, and so be rescued.
Matrevis
Why strive you thus? your labour is in vaine.
Edward.
The Wrenne may strive against the Lions strength,
But all in vaine, so vainely do I strive,
To seeke for mercie at a tyrants hand.
They wash him with puddle water, and shave his beard away.
Immortall powers, that knowes the painfull cares,
That waites upon my poore distressed soule,
O levell all your lookes upon these daring men,
That wronges their liege and soveraigne, Englands king.
O Gaveston , it is for thee that I am wrongd,
For me, both, both the Spencers died,
And for your sakes, a thousand wrongest ile take,
The Spencers ghostes, where ever they remaine,
Wish well to mine, then tush, for them ile die.
Matrevis
Twixt theirs and yours, shall be no enmitie.
Come, come, away, now put the torches out,
Weele enter in by darkenes to Killingworth.
Enter Edmund [earle of Kent].
Gurney
How now, who comes there?
Matrevis
Guarde the king sure, it is the earle of Kent.
Edward
O gentle brother, helpe to rescue me.
Matrevis
Keepe them a sunder, thrust in the king.
Kent
Souldiers, let me but talke to him one worde.
Gurney
Lay hands upon the earle for this assault.
Kent
Lay downe your weapons, traitors, yeeld the king.
Matrevis. Edmund, yeeld thou thy self, or thou shalt die.
Kent
Base villaines, wherefore doe you gripe mee thus ?
Gurney
Binde him, and so convey him to the court.
Kent
Where is the court but heere, heere is the king,
And I will visit him, why stay you me?
Matrevis
The court is where lord Mortimer remaines,
Thither shall your honour go, and so farewell.
Exeunt Matrevis and Gurney, with the king.
Manent Edmund and the souldiers.
Kent
O miserable is that commonweale,
Where lords keepe courts, and kings are lockt in prison!
Souldier.
Wherefore stay we? on sirs to the court.
Kent
I, lead me whether you will, even to my death,
Seeing that my brother cannot be releast.

Act Five, Scene Four
Enter Mortimeralone.
Mortimer
The king must die, or Mortimer goes downe,
The commons now begin to pitie him,
Yet he that is the cause of Edwards death,
Is sure to pay for it when his sonne is of age,
And therefore will I do it cunninglie.
This letter written by a friend of ours,
Containes his death, yet bids them save his life.
Edwardum occidere nolite timere bonum est.
Feare not to kill the king tis good he die.
But read it thus, and thats an other sence:
Edwardum occidere nolite timere bonum est.
Kill not the king tis good to feare the worst.
Unpointed as it is, thus shall it goe,
That being dead, if it chaunce to be found,
Matrevis and the rest may beare the blame,
And we be quit that causde it to be done:
Within this roome is lockt the messenger,
That shall conveie it, and performe the rest,
And by a secret token that he beares,
Shall he be murdered when the deed is done.
Lightborn, Come forth.
[Enter Lightborn.]
Art thou as resolute as thou wast ?
Lightborne
What else my lord ? and farre more resolute.
Mortimer
And hast thou cast how to accomplish it?

Lightborne
I, I, and none shall know which way he died.

Mortimer
But at his lookes Lightborne thou wilt relent.

Lightborne
Relent, ha, ha, I use much to relent.

Mortimer
Well, do it bravely, and be secret.

Lightborne
You shall not need to give instructions,
Tis not the first time I have killed a man.
I learnde in Naples how to poison flowers,
To strangle with a lawne thrust through the throte,
To pierce the wind-pipe with a needles point,
Or whilst one is a sleepe, to take a quill
And blowe a little powder in his eares,
Or open his mouth, and powre quick silver downe,
But yet I have a braver way then these.
Mortimer
Whats that?

Lightborne
Nay, you shall pardon me, none shall knowe my trickes.

Mortimer
I care not how it is, so it be not spide:
Deliver this to Gurney and Matrevis,
At every ten miles end thou hast a horse.
Take this, away, and never see me more.
Lightborne
No?
Mortimer
No,
Unlesse thou bring me newes of Edwards death.
Lightborne
That will I quicklie do farewell my lord.
[Exit.]
Mortimer
The prince I rule, the queene do I commaund,
And with a lowly conge to the ground,
The proudest lords salute me as I passe,
I seale, I cancell, I do what I will,
Feard am I more then lov'd, let me be feard,
And when I frowne, make all the court looke pale,
I view the prince with Aristarchus eyes,
Whose lookes were as a breeching to a boye.
They thrust upon me the Protectorship,
And sue to me for that that I desire,
While at the councell table, grave enough,
And not unlike a bashfull puretaine,
First I complaine of imbecilitie,
Saying it is, onus quam gravissimum,
Till being interrupted by my friends,
Suscepi that provinciam as they terme it,
And to conclude, I am Protector now,
Now is all sure, the Queene and Mortimer
Shall rule the realme, the king, and none rule us,
Mine enemies will I plague, my friends advance,
And what I list commaund, who dare controwle?
Major sum quam cui possitfortuna nocere.
And that this be the coronation day,
It pleaseth me, and Isabell the Queene.
The trumpets sound, I must go take my place.
Enter the yong King, [Arch]bishop [of Canterbury], Champion, Nobles, Queene.
Bishop
Long live king Edward, by the grace of God
King of England, and lorde of Ireland.
Champion
If any Christian, Heathen, Turke, or Jew,
Dares but affirme, that Edwards not true king,
And will avouche his saying with the sworde,
I am the Champion that will combate him!
Mortimer
None comes, sound trumpets.

King
Champion, heeres to thee.
[Drinks.]

Queene
Lord Mortimer, now take him to your charge.
Enter Souldiers with the Earle of Kent prisoner.

Mortimer
What traitor have wee there with blades and billes?

Souldier.
Edmund the Earle of Kent.

King
What hath he done?

Souldier
A would have taken the king away perforce,
As we were bringing him to Killingworth.
Mortimer
Did you attempt his rescue, Edmund speake?

Kent.
Mortimer, I did, he is our king,
And thou compelst this prince to weare the crowne.
Mortimer
Strike off his head, he shall have marshall lawe.

Kent
Strike of my head? base traitor I defie thee.
King
My lord, he is my unckle, and shall live.
Mortimer
My lord, he is your enemie, and shall die.

Kent
Staie villaines.
King
Sweete mother, if I cannot pardon him,
Intreate my lord Protector for his life.
Queene
Sonne, be content, I dare not speake a worde.
King
Nor I, and yet me thinkes I should commaund,
But seeing I cannot, ile entreate for him:
My lord, if you will let my unckle live,
I will requite it when I come to age.
Mortimer
Tis for your highnesse good, and for the realmes.
How often shall I bid you beare him hence? [To Souldiers.]

Kent
Art thou king, must I die at thy commaund?
Mortimer
At our commaund, once more away with him.

Kent
Let me but stay and speake, I will not go,
Either my brother or his sonne is king,
And none of both them thirst for Edmunds bloud.
And therefore soldiers whether will you hale me?
They hale Edmund away, and carie him to be beheaded.
King
What safetie may I looke for at his hands,
If that my Unckle shall be murthered thus?
Queene
Feare not sweete boye, ile garde thee from thy foes,
Had Edmund liv'de, he would have sought thy death.
Come sonne, weele ride a hunting in the parke.
King
And shall my Unckle Edmund ride with us?
Queene
He is a traitor, thinke not on him, come.

Act Five, Scene Five
Enter Matrevis and Gurney.
Matrevis.
Gurney, I wonder the king dies not,
Being in a vault up to the knees in water,
To which the channels of the castell runne,
From whence a dampe continually ariseth,
That were enough to poison any man,
Much more a king brought up so tenderlie.
Gurney
And so do I, Matrevis: yesternight
I opened but the doore to throw him meate,
And I was almost stifeled wit the savor.
Matrevis
He hath a body able to endure,
More then we can enflict, and therefore now,
Let us assaile his minde another while.
Gurney
Send for him out thence, and I will anger him.
Matrevis
But stay, whose this ?
Enter Lightborne.
Lightborne
My lord protector greetes you.
Gurney
Whats heere ? I know not how to conster it.
Matrevis.
Gurney, it was left unpointed for the nonce,
Edwardum occidere nolite timere,
Thats his meaning.
Lightborne
Know you this token?I must have the king.
Matrevis
I, stay a while, thou shalt have answer straight.
This villain's sent to make away the king.
Gurney
I thought as much.
Matrevis
And when the murders done,
See how he must be handled for his labour,
Pereat iste: let him have the king,
What else? Heere is the keyes, this is the lake,
Doe as you are commaunded by my lord.
Lightborne
I know what I must do, get you away,
Yet be not farre off,
I shall need your helpe,
See that in the next roome I have a fier,
And get me a spit, and let it be red hote.
Matrevis
Very well.
Gurney
Neede you any thing besides?
Lightborne
What else, a table and a fetherbed.
Gurney
Thats all?
Lightborne
I, I, so: when I call you, bring it in.
Matrevis
Feare not you that.
Gurney
Heeres a light to go into the dungeon.
[Exeunt Matrevis and Gurney.]
Lightborne
So,
Now must I about this geare, nere was there any
So finely handled as this king shalbe.
Foh, heeres a place in deed with all my hart.
[Edward comes up or is discovered.]
Edward
Whose there, what light is that, wherefore comes thou?
Lightborne
To comfort you, and bring you joyfull newes.
Edward
Small comfort findes poore Edward in thy lookes,
Villaine, I know thou comst to murther me.
Lightborne
To murther you my most gratious lorde?
Farre is it from my hart to do you harme,
The Queene sent me, to see how you were used,
For she relents at this your miserie.
And what eyes can refraine from shedding teares,
To see a king in this most pittious state?
Edward
Weepst thou already? list a while to me,
And then thy heart, were it as Gurneys is,
Or as Matrevis, hewne from the Caucasus,
Yet will it melt, ere I have done my tale.
This dungeon where they keepe me, is the sincke,
Wherein the filthe of all the castell falles.
Lightborne
O villaines!
Edward
And there in mire and puddle have I stood,
This ten dayes space, and least that I should sleepe,
One plaies continually upon a Drum,
They give me bread and water being a king,
So that for want of sleepe and sustenance,
My mindes distempered, and my bodies numde,
And whether I have limmes or no, I know not.
O would my bloud dropt out from every vaine,
As doth this water from my tattered robes:
Tell Isabell the Queene, I lookt not thus,
When for her sake I ran at tilt in Fraunce,
And there unhorste the duke of Cleremont.
Lightborne
O speake no more my lorde, this breakes my heart.
Lie on this bed, and rest your selfe a while.
Edward
These lookes of thine can harbor nought but death.
I see my tragedie written in thy browes,
Yet stay a while, forbeare thy bloudie hande,
And let me see the stroke before it comes,
That even then when I shall lose my life,
My minde may be more stedfast on my God.

Lightborne
What meanes your highnesse to mistrust me thus ?
Edward
What meanes thou to dissemble with me thus ?
Lightborne
These handes were never stainde with innocent bloud,
Nor shall they now be tainted with a kings.
Edward
Forgive my thought, for having such a thought,
One jewell have I left, receive thou this.
Still feare I, and I know not whats the cause,
But everie jointe shakes as I give it thee:
O if thou harborst murther in thy hart,
Let this gift change thy minde, and save thy soule,
Know that I am a king, oh at that name,
I feele a hell of greefe: where is my crowne?
Gone, gone, and doe I remaine alive?
Lightborne
Your overwatchde my lord, lie downe and rest.
Edward
But that greefe keepes me waking, I shoulde sleepe,
For not these ten daies have these eyes lids closd.
Now as I speake they fall, and yet with feare
Open againe. O wherefore sits thou heare?
Lightborne
If you mistrust me, ile be gon my lord.
Edward
No, no, for if thou meanst to murther me,
Thou wilt returne againe, and therefore stay.
Lightborne
He sleepes.
Edward
O let me not die yet, stay, O stay a while.
Lightborne
How now my Lorde.
Edward
Something still busseth in mine eares,
And tels me, if I sleepe I never wake,
This feare is that which makes me tremble thus,
And therefore tell me, wherefore art thou come?
Lightborne
To rid thee of thy life. Matrevis come.
Edward
I am too weake and feeble to resist,
Assist me sweete God, and receive my soule.
[Enter Matrevis, Gurney, and exeunt. Return with table.]
Lightborne
Runne for the table.
Edward
O spare me, or dispatche me in a trice.
Lightborne
So, lay the table downe, and stampe on it,
But not too hard, least that you bruse his body.
[King dies.]
Matrevis
I feare mee that this crie will raise the towne,
And therefore let us take horse and away.
Lightborne
Tell me sirs, was it not bravelie done?
Gurney
Excellent well, take this for thy rewarde.
Then Gurney stabs Lightborne.
Come let us cast the body in the mote,
And beare the kings to Mortimer our lord,
Away.

Act Five, Scene Six
Enter Mortimer and Matrevis [at different doors].
Mortimer
Ist done, Matrevis, and the murtherer dead?

Matrevis
I my good Lord, I would it were undone.

Mortimer.
Matrevis, if thou now growest penitent
Ile be thy ghostly father, therefore choose,
whether thou wilt be secret in this,
Or else die by the hand of Mortimer.
Matrevis
Gurney,my lord, is fled, and will I feare,
Betray us both, therefore let me flie.
Mortimer
Flie to the Savages.

Matrevis
I humblie thanke your honour.
[Exit.]

Mortimer
As for my selfe, I stand as Joves huge tree,
And others are but shrubs compard to me,
All tremble at my name, and I feare none,
Lets see who dare impeache me for his death ?
Enter the Queene.

Queene
A Mortimer, the king my sonne hath news,
His fathers dead, and we have murdered him.
Mortimer
What if he have? the king is yet a childe.

Queene
I, I, but he teares his haire, and wrings his handes,
And vowes to be revengd upon us both,
Into the councell chamber he is gone,
To crave the aide and succour of his peeres.
Aye me, see where he comes, and they with him,
Now Mortimer begins our tragedie.
Enter the King, with the lords.
1. Lord
Feare not my lord, know that you are a king.
King
Villaine.
Mortimer
How now my lord ?
King
Thinke not that I am frighted with thy words,
My father's murdered through thy treacherie,
And thou shalt die, and on his mournefull hearse,
Thy hatefull and accursed head shall lie,
To witnesse to the world, that by thy meanes,
His kingly body was too soone interrde.
Queene
Weepe not sweete sonne.
King
Forbid not me to weepe, he was my father,
And had you lov'de him halfe so well as I,
You could not beare his death thus patiently,
But you I feare, conspirde with Mortimer.
1. Lord
Why speake you not unto my lord the king?
Mortimer
Because I thinke scorne to be accusde,
Who is the man dare say I murdered him?
King
Traitor, in me my loving father speakes,
And plainely saith, twas thou that murdredst him.
Mortimer
But hath your grace no other proofe then this ?

King
Yes, if this be the hand of Mortimer.

Mortimer
False Gurney hath betraide me and himselfe.

Queene
I feard as much, murther cannot be hid.

Mortimer
Tis my hand, what gather you by this.
King
That thither thou didst send a murtherer.
Mortimer
What murtherer? bring foorth the man I sent.

King
A Mortimer, thou knowest that he is slaine,
And so shalt thou be too: why staies he heere?
Bring him unto a hurdle, drag him foorth,
Hang him I say, and set his quarters up,
But bring his head back presently to me.
Queene
For my sake sweete sonne pittie Mortimer.
Mortimer
Madam, intreat not, I will rather die,
Then sue for life unto a paltrie boye.

King
Hence with the traitor, with the murderer.

Mortimer
Base fortune, now I see, that in thy wheele
There is a point, to which when men aspire,
They tumble hedlong downe: that point I touchte,
And seeing there was no place to mount up higher,
Why should I greeve at my declining fall?
Farewell faire Queene, weepe not for Mortimer,
That scornes the world, and as a traveller,
Goes to discover countries yet unknowne.
King
What, suffer you the traitor to delay?
[Exit Mortimer with 1. Lord attended.]
Queene
As thou receivedst thy life from me,
Spill not the bloud of gentle Mortimer.
King
This argues, that you spilt my fathers bloud,
Els would you not intreate for Mortimer.
Queene
I spill his bloud ? no.
King
I, madam, you, for so the rumor runnes.
Queene
That rumor is untrue, for loving thee,
Is this report raisde on poore Isabell.
King
I doe not thinke her so unnaturall.
2. Lord
My lord, I feare me it will proove too true.
King
Mother, you are suspected for his death,
And therefore we commit you to the Tower,
Till further triall may be made thereof.
If you be guiltie, though I be your sonne,
Thinke not to finde me slack or pitifull.
Queene
Nay, to my death, for too long have I lived,
When as my sonne thinkes to abridge my daies.
King
Awaye with her, her wordes inforce these teares,
And I shall pitie her if she speake againe.
Queene
Shall I not moorne for my beloved lord,
And with the rest accompanie him to his grave?
2. Lord
Thus madam, tis the kings will you shall hence.
Queene
He hath forgotten me, stay, I am his mother.
2. Lord
That bootes not, therefore gentle madam goe.
Queene
Then come sweete death, and rid me of this greefe.
[Exit Queene and 2. Lord.]
[Enter1. Lord.]
1. Lord
My lord, here is the head of Mortimer.
King
Goe fetche my fathers hearse, where it shall lie,
And bring my funerall robes: accursed head,
Could I have rulde thee then, as I do now,
Thou hadst not hatcht this monstrous treacherie!
[Enter some with hearse.]
Heere comes the hearse, helpe me to moorne, my lords:
Sweete father heere, unto thy murdered ghost,
I offer up this wicked traitors head,
And let these teares distilling from mine eyes,
Be witnesse of my greefe and innocencie.