SCENE III.

_Enter the_ KING, OLD SPENCER, YOUNG SPENCER, _and the_ Noblemen _of the_ KING'S _side_.

_Edw._ Why do we sound retreat? upon them, lords! This day I shall pour vengeance with my sword On those proud rebels that are up in arms, And do confront and countermand their king.

_Y. Spen._ I doubt it not, my lord, right will prevail.

_O. Spen._ 'Tis not amiss, my liege, for either part To breathe awhile; our men, with sweat and dust All choked well near, begin to faint for heat; And this retire refresheth horse and man.

_Y. Spen._ Here come the rebels. 10

_Enter_ YOUNG MORTIMER, LANCASTER, WARWICK, PEMBROKE, _&c_.

_E. Mor._ Look, Lancaster, yonder is Edward Among his flatterers.

_Lan._ And there let him be Till he pay dearly for their company.

_War._ And shall, or Warwick's sword shall smite in vain.

_Edw._ What, rebels, do you shrink and sound retreat?

_Y. Mor._ No, Edward, no, thy flatterers faint and fly.

_Lan._ They'd best betimes forsake thee, and their trains,[268] For they'll betray thee, traitors as they are.

_Y. Spen._ Traitor on thy face, rebellious Lancaster!

_Pem._ Away, base upstart, bravest thou nobles thus? 20

_O. Spen._ A noble attempt, and honourable deed, Is[269] it not, trow ye, to assemble aid, And levy arms against your lawful king!

_Edw._ For which ere long their heads shall satisfy, To appease the wrath of their offended king.

_Y. Mor._ Then, Edward, thou wilt fight it to the last, And rather bathe thy sword in subjects' blood, Than banish that pernicious company?

_Edw._ I, traitors all, rather than thus be braved, Make England's civil towns huge heaps of stones, 30 And ploughs to go about our palace-gates.

_War._ A desperate and unnatural resolution! Alarum!--to the fight! St. George for England, and the barons' right.

_Edw._ St. George for England, and King Edward's right. [_Alarums. Exeunt._

_Re-enter_ EDWARD _and his followers, with the_ Barons _and_ KENT, _captives._

_Edw._ Now, lusty lords, now, not by chance of war, But justice of the quarrel and the cause, Vailed is your pride; methinks you hang the heads, But we'll advance them, traitors; now 'tis time To be avenged on you for all your braves, 40 And for the murder of my dearest friend, To whom right well you knew our soul was knit, Good Pierce of Gaveston, my sweet favourite: Ah, rebels! recreants! you made him away.

_Kent._ Brother, in regard of thee, and of thy land, Did they remove that flatterer from thy throne.

_Edw._ So, sir, you have spoke; away, avoid our presence. [_Exit_ KENT. Accursèd wretches, was't in regard of us, When we had sent our messenger to request He might be spared to come to speak with us, 50 And Pembroke undertook for his return, That thou, proud Warwick, watched the prisoner, Poor Pierce, and headed him 'gainst law of arms; For which thy head shall overlook the rest, As much as thou in rage outwent'st the rest.

_War._ Tyrant, I scorn thy threats and menaces, It is but temporal that thou canst inflict.

_Lan._ The worst is death, and better die to live Than live in infamy under such a king.

_Edw._ Away with them, my lord of Winchester! 60 These lusty leaders, Warwick and Lancaster, I charge you roundly--off with both their heads! Away!

_War._ Farewell, vain world!

_Lan._ Sweet Mortimer, farewell.

_Y. Mor._ England, unkind to thy nobility, Groan for this grief, behold how thou art maimed!

_Edw._ Go, take that haughty Mortimer to the Tower, There see him safe bestowed; and for the rest, Do speedy execution on them all. Begone! 70

_Y. Mor._ What, Mortimer! can ragged stony walls Immure thy virtue that aspires to heaven? No, Edward, England's scourge, it may not be, Mortimer's hope surmounts his fortune far. [_The captive_ Barons _are led off._

_Edw._. Sound drums and trumpets! March with me, my friends, Edward this day hath crowned him king anew. [_Exeunt all except_ YOUNG SPENCER, LEVUNE, _and_ BALDOCK.

_Y. Spen._ Levune, the trust that we repose in thee, Begets the quiet of King Edward's land. Therefore begone in haste, and with advice Bestow that pleasure on the lords of France, 80 That, therewith all enchanted, like the guard That suffered Jove to pass in showers of gold To Danae, all aid may be denied To Isabel, the queen, that now in France Makes friends, to cross the seas with her young son, And step into his father's regiment.[270]

_Levune._ That's it these barons and the subtle queen Long levelled[271] at.

_Bal._ Yea, but, Levune, thou seest These barons lay their heads on blocks together; What they intend, the hangman frustrates clean. 90

_Levune._ Have you no doubt, my lords, I'll clap[272] so close Among the lords of France with England's gold, That Isabel shall make her plaints in vain, And France shall be obdurate with her tears.

_Y. Spen._ Then make for France, amain--Levune, away! Proclaim King Edward's wars and victories. [_Exeunt omnes._

ACT THE FOURTH.