Chapter 5

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

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

_Abbot._ Have you no doubt, my lord; have you no fear: As silent and as careful we will be To keep your royal person safe with us, Free from suspect, and fell invasion Of such as have your majesty in chase, Yourself, and those your chosen company, As danger of this stormy time requires. _K. Edw._ Father, thy face should harbour no deceit. O, hadst thou ever been a king, thy heart, Pierc'd deeply with sense of my distress, Could not but take compassion of my state! Stately and proud in riches and in train, Whilom I was, powerful and full of pomp: But what is he whom rule and empery Have not in life or death made miserable?-- Come, Spenser,--come, Baldock,--come, sit down by me; Make trial now of that philosophy That in our famous nurseries of arts Thou suck'dst from Plato and from Aristotle.-- Father, this life contemplative is heaven: O, that I might this life in quiet lead! But we, alas, are chas'd!--and you, my friends, Your lives and my dishonour they pursue.-- Yet, gentle monks, for treasure, gold, nor fee, Do you betray us and our company. _First Monk._ Your grace may sit secure, if none but we Do wot of your abode. _Y. Spen._ Not one alive: but shrewdly I suspect A gloomy fellow in a mead below; 'A gave a long look after us, my lord; And all the land, I know, is up in arms, Arms that pursue our lives with deadly hate. _Bald._ We were embark'd for Ireland; wretched we, With awkward winds and with sore tempests driven, To fall on shore, and here to pine in fear Of Mortimer and his confederates! _K. Edw._ Mortimer! who talks of Mortimer? Who wounds me with the name of Mortimer, That bloody man?--Good father, on thy lap Lay I this head, laden with mickle care. O, might I never ope these eyes again, Never again lift up this drooping head, O, never more lift up this dying heart! _Y. Spen._ Look up, my lord.--Baldock, this drowsiness Betides no good; here even we are betray'd.

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

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

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

_Leices._ Be patient, good my lord, cease to lament; Imagine Killingworth Castle were your court, And that you lay for pleasure here a space, Not of compulsion or necessity. _K. Edw._ Leicester, if gentle words might comfort me, Thy speeches long ago had eas'd my sorrows, For kind and loving hast thou always been. The griefs of private men are soon allay'd; But not of kings. The forest deer, being struck, Runs to an herb that closeth up the wounds: But when the imperial lion's flesh is gor'd, He rends and tears it with his wrathful paw, [And], highly scorning that the lowly earth Should drink his blood, mounts up to the air: And so it fares with me, whose dauntless mind Th' ambitious Mortimer would seek to curb, And that unnatural queen, false Isabel, That thus hath pent and mew'd me in a prison For such outrageous passions cloy my soul, As with the wings of rancour and disdain Full oft[ten] am I soaring up to heaven, To plain me to the gods against them both. But when I call to mind I am a king, Methinks I should revenge me of my wrongs, That Mortimer and Isabel have done. But what are kings, when regiment is gone, But perfect shadows in a sunshine day? My nobles rule; I bear the name of king, I wear the crown; but am controll'd by them, By Mortimer, and my unconstant queen, Who spots my nuptial bed with infamy; Whilst I am lodg'd within this cave of care, Where sorrow at my elbow still attends, To company my heart with sad laments, That bleeds within me for this strange exchange. But tell me, must I now resign my crown, To make usurping Mortimer a king? _Bish. of Win._ Your grace mistakes; it is for England's good, And princely Edward's right, we crave the crown. _K. Edw._ No, 'tis for Mortimer, not Edward's head For he's a lamb, emcompassed by wolves, Which in a moment will abridge his life. But, if proud Mortimer do wear this crown, Heavens turn it to a blaze of quenchless fire! Or, like the snaky wreath of Tisiphon, Engirt the temples of his hateful head! So shall not England's vine be perished, But Edward's name survive, though Edward dies. _Leices._ My lord, why waste you thus the time away? They stay your answer: will you yield your crown? _K. Edw._ Ah, Leicester, weigh how hardly I can brook To lose my crown and kingdom without cause; To give ambitious Mortimer my right, That, like a mountain, overwhelms my bliss; In which extreme my mind here murder'd is! But that the heavens appoint I must obey.-- Here, take my crown; the life of Edward too: [_Taking off the crown._ Two kings in England cannot reign at once. But stay a while: let me be king till night, That I may gaze upon this glittering crown; So shall my eyes receive their last content, My head, the latest honour due to it, And jointly both yield up their wished right. Continue ever, thou celestial sun; Let never silent night possess this clime; Stand still, you watches of the element; All times and seasons, rest you at a stay, That Edward may be still fair England's king! But day's bright beams doth vanish fast away, And needs I must resign my wished crown. Inhuman creatures, nurs'd with tiger's milk, Why gape you for your sovereign's overthrow? My diadem, I mean, and guiltless life. See, monsters, see! I'll wear my crown again. [_Putting on the crown._ What, fear you not the fury of your king?-- But, hapless Edward, thou art fondly led; They pass not for thy frowns as late they did, But seek to make a new-elected king; Which fills my mind with strange despairing thoughts, Which thoughts are martyred with endless torments; And in this torment comfort find I none, But that I feel the crown upon my head; And therefore let me wear it yet a while. _Trus._ My, lord, the parliament must have present news; And therefore say, will you resign or no? [_The king rageth._ _K. Edw._ I'll not resign, but, whilst I live, [be king]. Traitors, be gone, and join you with Mortimer. Elect, conspire, install, do what you will: Their blood and yours shall seal these treacheries. _Bish. of Win._ This answer we'll return; and so, farewell. [_Going with Trussel._ _Leices._ Call them again, my lord, and speak them fair; For, if they go, the prince shall lose his right. _K. Edw._ Call thou them back; I have no power to speak. _Leices._ My lord, the king is willing to resign. _Bish. of Win._ If he be not, let him choose. _K. Edw._ O, would I might! but heavens and earth conspire To make me miserable. Here, receive my crown. Receive it? no, these innocent hands of mine Shall not be guilty of so foul a crime; He of you all that most desires my blood, And will be call'd the murderer of a king, Take it. What, are you mov'd? pity you me? Then send for unrelenting Mortimer, And Isabel, whose eyes being turn'd to steel Will sooner sparkle fire than shed a tear. Yet stay; for, rather than I'll look on them, Here, here! [_Gives the crown._]--Now, sweet God of heaven, Make me despise this transitory pomp, And sit fot aye enthronised in heaven! Come, death, and with thy fingers close my eyes, Or, if I live, let me forget myself! _Bish. of Win._ My lord,-- _K. Edw._ Call me not lord; away, out of my sight! Ah, pardon me! grief makes me lunatic. Let not that Mortimer protect my son; More safety there is in a tiger's jaws Than his embracements. Bear this to the queen, Wet with my tears, and dried again with sighs: [_Gives a handkerchief._ If with the sight thereof she be not mov'd, Return it back, and dip it in my blood. Commend me to my son, and bid him rule Better than I: yet how have I transgress'd, Unless it be with too much clemency? _Trus._ And thus, most humbly do we take our leave. _K. Edw._ Farewell. [_Exeunt the Bishop of Winchester and Trussel with the crown._ I know the next news that they bring Will be my death; and welcome shall it be: To wretched men death is felicity. _Leices._ Another post! what news brings he?

_Enter_ BERKELEY, _who gives a paper to_ LEICESTER.

_K. Edw._ Such news as I expect.--Come, Berkeley, come, And tell thy message to my naked breast. _Berk._ My lord, think not a thought so villanous Can harbour in a man of noble birth. To do your highness service and devoir, And save you from your foes, Berkeley would die. _Leices._ My lord, the council of the queen command That I resign my charge. _K. Edw._ And who must keep me now? Must you, my lord? _Berk._ Ay, my most gracious lord; so 'tis decreed. _K. Edw._ [_Taking the paper._] By Mortimer, whose name is written here! Well may I rent his name that rends my heart. [_Tears it._ This poor revenge hath something eas'd my mind: So may his limbs be torn as is this paper! Hear me, immortal Jove, and grant it too! _Berk._ Your grace must hence with me to Berkeley straight. _K. Edw._ Whither you will: all places are alike, And every earth is fit for burial. _Leices._ Favour him, my lord, as much as lieth in you. _Berk._ Even so betide my soul as I use him! _K. Edw._ Mine enemy hath pitied my estate, And that's the cause that I am now remov'd. _Berk._ And thinks your grace that Berkeley will be cruel? _K. Edw._ I know not; but of this am I assur'd, That death ends all, and I can die but once.-- Leicester, farewell. _Leices._ Not yet, my lord; I'll bear you on your way. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ QUEEN ISABELLA _and the younger_ MORTIMER.

_Y. Mor._ Fair Isabel, now have we our desire; The proud corrupters of the light-brain'd king Have done their homage to the lofty gallows, And he himself lies in captivity. Be rul'd by me, and we will rule the realm: In any case take heed of childish fear, For now we hold an old wolf by the ears, That, if he slip, will seize upon us both, And gripe the sorer, being grip'd himself. Think therefore, madam, that imports us much To erect your son with all the speed we may, And that I be protector over him: For our behoof, 'twill bear the greater sway Whenas a king's name shall be under-writ. _Q. Isab._ Sweet Mortimer, the life of Isabel, Be thou persuaded that I love thee well; And therefore, so the prince my son be safe, Whom I esteem as dear as these mine eyes, Conclude against his father what thou wilt, And I myself will willingly subscribe. _Y. Mor._ First would I hear news he were depos'd, And then let me alone to handle him.

_Enter_ Messenger.

Letters! from whence? _Mess._ From Killingworth, my lord? _Q. Isab._ How fares my lord the king? _Mess._ In health, madam, but full of pensiveness. _Q. Isab._ Alas, poor soul, would I could ease his grief!

_Enter the_ BISHOP OF WINCHESTER _with the crown._

Thanks, gentle Winchester.-- Sirrah, be gone. [_Exit Messenger._ _Bish. of Win._ The king hath willingly resign'd his crown. _Q. Isab._ O, happy news! send for the prince my son. _Bish. of Win._ Further, or this letter was seal'd, Lord Berkeley came, So that he now is gone from Killingworth; And we have heard that Edmund laid a plot To set his brother free; nor more but so. The Lord of Berkeley is so pitiful As Leicester that had charge of him before. _Q. Isab._ Then let some other be his guardian. _Y. Mor._ Let me alone; here is the privy-seal,-- [_Exit the Bish. of Win._ Who's there? Call hither, Gurney and Matrevis.-- [_To Attendants within._ To dash the heavy-headed Edmund's drift, Berkeley shall be discharg'd, the king remov'd, And none but we shall know where he lieth. _Q. Isab._ But, Mortimer, as long as he survives, What safety rests for us or for my son? _Y. Mor._ Speak, shall he presently be despatch'd and die? _Q. Isab._ I would he were, so 'twere not by my means!

_Enter_ MATREVIS _and_ GURNEY.

_Y. Mor._ Enough.--Matrevis, write a letter presently Unto the Lord of Berkeley from ourself, That he resign the king to thee and Gurney; And, when 'tis done, we will subscribe our name. _Mat._ It shall be done, my lord. [_Writes._ _Y. Mor._ Gurney,-- _Gur._ My lord? _Y. Mor._ As thou intend'st to rise by Mortimer, Who now makes Fortune's wheel turn as he please, Seek all the means thou canst to make him droop, And neither give him kind word nor good look. _Gur._ I warrant you, my lord. _Y. Mor._ And this above the rest: because we hear That Edmund casts to work his liberty, Remove him still from place to place by night, Till at the last he come to Killingworth, And then from thence to Berkeley back again; And by the way, to make him fret the more, Speak curstly to him; and in any case Let no man comfort him, if he chance to weep, But amplify his grief with bitter words. _Mat._ Fear not, my lord; we'll do as you command. _Y. Mor._ So, now away! post thitherwards amain. _Q. Isab._ Whither goes this letter? to my lord the king? Commend me humbly to his majesty, And tell him that I labour all in vain To ease his grief and work his liberty; And bear him this as witness of my love. [_Gives ring._ _Mat._ I will, madam. [_Exit with Gurney._ _Y. Mor._ Finely dissembled! do so still, sweet queen. Here comes the young prince with the Earl of Kent. _Q. Isab._ Something he whispers in his childish ears. _Y. Mor._ If he have such access unto the prince, Our plots and stratagems will soon be dash'd. _Q. Isab._ Use Edmund friendly, as if all were well.

_Enter_ PRINCE EDWARD, _and_ KENT _talking with him._

_Y. Mor._ How fares my honourable Lord of Kent? _Kent._ In health, sweet Mortimer.--How fares your grace? _Q. Isab._ Well, if my lord your brother were enlarg'd. _Kent._ I hear of late he hath depos'd himself. _Q. Isab._ The more my grief. _Y. Mor._ And mine. _Kent._ Ah, they do dissemble! [_Aside._ _Q. Isab._ Sweet son, come hither; I must talk with thee. _Y. Mor._ You, being his uncle and the next of blood, Do look to be protector o'er the prince. _Kent._ Not I, my lord: who should protect the son, But she that gave him life? I mean the queen. _P. Edw._ Mother, persuade me not to wear the crown: Let him be king; I am too young to reign. _Q. Isab._ But be content, seeing 'tis his highness' pleasure. _P. Edw._ Let me but see him first, and then I will. _Kent._ Ay, do, sweet nephew. _Q. Isab._ Brother, you know it is impossible. _P. Edw._ Why, is he dead? _Q. Isab._ No, God forbid! _Kent._ I would those words proceeded from your heart! _Y. Mor._ Inconstant Edmund, dost thou favour him, That wast a cause of his imprisonment? _Kent._ The more cause now have I to make amends. _Y. Mor._ [_aside to_ Q. ISAB.] I tell thee, 'tis not meet that one so false Should come about the person of a prince.-- My lord, he hath betray'd the king his brother, And therefore trust him not. _P. Edw._ But he repents, and sorrows for it now. _Q. Isab._ Come, son, and go with this gentle lord and me. _P. Edw._ With you I will, but not with Mortimer. _Y. Mor._ Why, youngling, 'sdain'st thou so of Mortimer? Then I will carry thee by force away. _P. Edw._ Help, uncle Kent! Mortimer will wrong me. _Q. Isab._ Brother Edmund, strive not; we are his friends; Isabel is nearer than the Earl of Kent. _Kent._ Sister, Edward is my charge; redeem him. _Q. Isab._ Edward is my son, and I will keep him. _Kent._ Mortimer shall know that he hath wronged me. Hence will I haste to Killingworth Castle, And rescue aged Edward from his foes, To be reveng'd on Mortimer and thee. [_Aside._ [_Exeunt, on the one side, Queen Isabella, Prince Edward and the younger Mortimer; on other other, Kent._

_Enter_ MATREVIS, GURNEY, _and_ Soldiers, _with_ KING EDWARD.