The troublesome raigne and lamentable death of Edward the second, King of England with the tragicall fall of proud Mortimer: as it was sundrie times publiquely acted in the honourable citie of London, by the right honourable the Earle of Pembrooke his seruants. Written by Chri. Marlow Gent.

The troublesome raigne and la∣mentable death of Edward the second, king of England: with the tragicall fall of proud Mortimer.

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

MY father is deceast, come Gaueston, And share the kingdom with thy deerest friend Ah words that make me surfet with delight: What greater blisse can hap to Gaueston, Then liue and be the fauorit of a king? Sweete prince I come, these these thy amorous lines, Might haue enforst me to haue swum from France, And like Leander gaspt vpon 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 loue the citie or the men, But that it harbors him I hold so deare, The king, vpon whose bosome let me die, And with the world be still at enmitie: What neede the artick people loue 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 vp in embers of their pouertie, Tauti: Ile fanne 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 seruice.

Gauest.

What canst thou doe?

1. poore.

I can ride.

Gauest.

But I haue no horses. What art thou?

2. poore.

A traueller.

Gauest.

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

3. poore.

A souldier, that hath seru'd against the Scot.

Gauest.

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

Seld.

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

Gau.

I, I, these wordes of his moue 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 liue in hope: You know that I came lately out of France, And yet I haue not viewd my Lord the king, If I speed well, ile entertaine you all.

Omnes.

We thanke your worship.

Gauest.

I haue some busines, leaue me to my selfe.

Omnes.

We will wait heere about the court.

Exeunt.

Gauest.

Do: these are not men for me, I must haue 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 haue Italian maskes by night, Sweete speeches, comedies, and pleasing showes, And in the day when he shall walke abroad, Like Siluian 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 louelie 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 Oliue 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 groue, 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 maiestie. My lord, heere comes the king and the nobles From the parlament, ile stand aside.

Enter the King, Lancaster, Mortimer senior, Mortimer iunior, Edmund Earle of Kent, Guie Earle of War∣wicke, &c.

Edward.

Lancaster.

Lancast.

My Lorde.

Gauest.

That Earle of Lancaster do I abhorre.

Edw.

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

Mor. se.

If you loue vs my lord, hate Gaueston.

Gauest.

That villaine Mortimer ile be his death.

Mor. iu.

Mine vnckle heere, this Earle, & 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 vnderneath thy banners march who will, For Mortimer will hang his armor vp.

Gauest.

Mort. dieu.

Edw.

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 haue Gaueston, and you shall know, What danger tis to stand against your king.

Gauest.

Well doone, Ned.

Lan.

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

Edm.

Barons & 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 mou'd, Brau'd Mowberie in presence of the king, For which, had not his highnes lou'd him well, He should haue lost his head, but with his looke, The vndaunted spirit of Percie was appeasd, And Mowberie and he were reconcild: Yet dare you braue the king vnto his face, Brother reuenge it, and let these their heads, Preach vpon poles for trespasse of their tongues.

Warwicke.

O our heads.

Edw.

I yours, and therefore I would wish you graunt.

Warw.

Bridle thy anger gentle Mortimer.

Mor. iu.

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 vs. Come vnckle, let vs leaue the brainsick king, And henceforth parle with our naked swords.

Mor. se.

Wilshire hath men enough to saue our heads.

Warw.

All Warwickshire will loue him for my sake.

Lanc.

And Northward Gaueston 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.

Exeunt Nobiles.

Edw.

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

Gau.

I can no longer keepe me from my lord.

Edw.

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

Gau.

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

Edw.

I know it, brother welcome home my friend, Now let the treacherous Mortimers conspire, And that high minded earle of Lancaster, I haue my wish, in that I ioy thy sight, And sooner shall the sea ore whelme 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.

Gauest.

My lord, these titles far exceed my worth.

Kent.

Brother, the least of these may well suffice For one of greater birth then Gaueston.

Edw.

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

Gaue.

It shall suffice me to enioy your loue, Which whiles I haue, I thinke my selfe as great, As Caesar riding in the Romaine streete, With captiue kings at his triumphant Carre.

Enter the Bishop of Couentrie.

Edw.

Whether goes my Lord of Couentrie so fast?

Bish.

To celebrate your fathers exequies, But is that wicked Gaueston returnd?

Edw.

I priest, and liues to be reuengd on thee, That wert the onely cause of his exile.

Gaue.

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

Bish.

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

Gaue.

Sauing your reuerence, you must pardon me.

Edw.

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 vnto the sea of Rome.

Gaue.

Let him complaine vnto the sea of hell, Ile be reuengd on him for my exile.

Edw.

No, spare his life, but seaze vpon his goods, Be thou lord bishop, and receiue his rents, And make him serue thee as thy chaplaine, I giue him thee, here vse him as thou wilt.

Gaue.

He shall to prison, and there die in boults.

Edw.

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

Bish.

For this offence be thou accurst of God.

Edw.

Whose there? conueie this priest to the tower.

Bish.

True, true.

Edw.

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

Gaue.

What should a priest do with so faire a house? A prison may be seeme his holinesse.

Enter both the Mortimers, Warwicke, and Lancaster.

War.

Tis true, the Bishop is in the tower, And goods and body giuen to Gaueston.

Lan.

What? will they tyrannize vpon the Church? Ah wicked king, accurssed Gaueston, This ground which is corrupted with their steps, Shall be their timeles sepulcher, or mine.

Mor. iu.

Wel, let that peeuish Frenchmā guard him sure Vnlesse his brest be sword proofe he shall die.

Mor. se.

How now, why droops the earle of Lancaster?

Mor. iu.

Wherfore is Guy of Warwicke discontent?

Lan.

That villaine Gaueston is made an Earle.

Mortim. sen.

An Earle!

War.

I, and besides, lord Chamberlaine of the realme, And secretary to, and lord of Man.

Mor. se.

We may not, nor we will not suffer this.

Mor. iu.

Why post we not from hence to leuie men?

Lan.

My lord of Cornewall, now at euery 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 vpon his lordship waites: And all the court begins to flatter him.

War.

Thus leaning on the shoulder of the king. He nods, and scornes, and smiles at those that passe.

Mor. se.

Doth no man take exceptions at the slaue?

Lan.

All stomack him, but none dare speake a word.

Mor. iu.

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 vp, Who swolne with venome of ambitious pride, Will be the ruine of the realme and vs.

Enter the Bishop of Canterburie.

War.

Here comes my lord of Canterburies grace.

Lan.

His countenance bewraies he is displeasd.

Bish.

First were his sacred garments rent and torne, Then laide they violent hands vpon him next, Himselfe imprisoned, and his goods asceasd, This certifie the Pope, away take horsse.

Lan.

My lord, will you take armes against the king?

Bish.

What neede I, God himselfe is vp in armes, When violence is offered to the church.

Mor. iu.

Then wil you ioine with vs that be his peeres To banish or behead that Gaueston?

Bish.

VVhat els my lords, for it concernes me neere, The Bishoprick of Couentrie is his.

Enter the Queene.

Mor. iu.

Madam, whether walks your maiestie so fast?

Que.

Vnto the forrest gentle Mortimer, To liue in greefe and balefull discontent, For now my lord the king regardes me not, But dotes vpon the loue of Gaueston, 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 thou wilt seeing I haue Gaueston.

Mor. se.

Is it not straunge, that he is thus bewitcht?

Mor. iu.

Madam, returne vnto the court againe:

That slie inueigling Frenchman weele exile, Or lose our liues: and yet ere that day come, The king shall lose his crowne, for we haue power, And courage to, to be reuengde at full.

Bish.

But yet lift not your swords against the king.

Lan.

No, but weele lift Gaueston from hence.

War.

And war must be the meanes, or heele stay stil.

Queen.

Then let him stay, for rather then my lord Shall be opprest by ciuill mutinies, I wil endure a melancholie life, And let him stollick with his minion.

Bish.

My lords, to eaze all this, but heare me speake, VVe and the rest that are his counsellers, VVill meete, and with a generall consent, Confirme his banishment with our handes and seales.

Lan.

VVhat we confirme the king will frustrate.

Mor. iu.

Then may we lawfully reuolt from him.

War.

But say my lord, where shall this meeting bee?

Bish.

At the new temple.

Mor. iu.

Content: And in the meane time ile intreat you all, To crosse to Lambeth, and there stay with me.

Lan.

Come then lets away.

Mor. iu.

Madam farewell.

Qu.

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

Mor. iu.

I, if words will serue, if not, I must.

Enter Gaueston and the earle of Kent.

Gau.

Edmund the mightie prince of Lancaster, That hath more earldomes then an asse can beare, And both the Mortimers two goodly men, VVith Guie of VVarwick that redoubted knight,

Are gone towards Lambeth, there let them remaine.

Exeunt.

Enter Nobiles.

Lan.

Here is the forme of Gauestons exile: May it please your lordship to subscribe your name.

Bish.

Giue me the paper.

Lan.

Quick quick my lorde, I long to write my name.

War.

But I long more to see him banisht hence.

Mor. iu.

The name of Mortimer shall fright the king, Vnlesse he be declinde from that base pesant.

Enter the King and Gaueston.

Edw.

VVhat? are you mou'd that Gaueston sits heere? It is our pleasure, we will haue it so.

Lan.

Your grace doth wel to place him by your side, For no where else the new earle is so safe.

Mor. se.

VVhat man of noble birth can brooke this sight? Quam male conueniunt: See what a scornfull looke the pesant casts.

Penb.

Can kinglie Lions fawne on creeping Ants?

War.

Ignoble vassaile that like Phaeton, Aspir'st vnto the guidance of the sunne.

Mor. iu.

Their downfall is at hand, their forces downe, VVe will not thus be facst and ouerpeerd.

Edw.

Lay hands on that traitor Mortimer.

Mor. se.

Lay hands on that traitor Gaueston.

Kent.

Is this the dutie that you owe your king?

War.

VVe know our duties, let him know his peeres.

Edw.

Whether will you beare him, stay or ye shall die,

Mor. se.

VVe are no traitors, therefore threaten not.

Gau.

No, threaten not my lord, but pay them home. VVere I a king.

Mor. iu.

Thou villaine, wherfore talkes thou of a king, That hardly art a gentleman by birth?

Edw.

VVere he a peasant being my minion, Ile make the prowdest of you stoope to him.

Lan.

My lord, you may not thus disparage vs, Away I say with hatefull Gaueston.

Mort. se.

And with the earle of Kent that fauors him.

Edw.

Nay, then lay violent hands vpon your king, Here Mortimer, sit thou in Edwards throne, Warwicke and Lancaster, weare you my crowne, VVas euer king thus ouer rulde as I?

Lan.

Learne then to rule vs better and the realme.

Mor. iu.

VVhat we haue done, our hart bloud shall maintaine.

War.

Think you that we can brooke this vpstart pride?

Edw.

Anger and wrathfull furie stops my speech.

Bish.

VVhy are you moou'd, be patient my lord, And see what we your councellers haue done.

Mor. iu.

My lords, now let vs all be resolute, And either haue our wils, or lose our liues.

Edw.

Meete you for this, proud ouerdaring peeres, Ere my sweete Gaueston shall part from me, This Ile shall fleete vpon the Ocean, And wander to the vnfrequented Inde.

Bish.

You know that I am legate to the Pope, On your allegeance to the sea of Rome, Subscribe as we haue done to his exile.

Mor. iu.

Curse him, if he refuse, and then may we Depose him and elect an other king.

Edw.

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

Lan.

Then linger not my lord but do it straight.

Bish.

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.

Edw.

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 vnckle shalbe earles, And you lord VVarwick, president of the North, And thou of VVales, if this content you not, Make seuerall kingdomes of this monarchie, And share it equally amongst you all, So I may haue some nooke or corner left, To frolike with my deerest Gaueston.

Bish.

Nothing shall alter vs, wee are resolu'd.

Lan.

Come, come, subscribe.

Mor. iu.

VVhy should you loue him, whome the world hates so?

Edw.

Because he loues me more then all the world: Ah none but rude and sauage minded men, VVould seeke the ruine of my Gaueston, 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.

Mor. se.

Vrge him my lord.

Bish.

Are you content to banish him the realme?

Edw.

I see I must, and therefore am content, In steede of inke, ile write it with my teares.

Mor. iu.

The king is loue-sick for his minion.

Edw.

Tis done, and now accursed hand fall off.

Lan.

Giue it me, ile haue it published in the streetes.

Mor. in.

Ile see him presently dispatched away.

Bish.

Now is my heart at ease.

Warw.

And so is mine.

Penb.

This will be good newes to the common sort.

Mor. se.

Be it or no, he shall not linger here.

Exeunt Nobiles.

Edw.

How fast they run to banish him I loue, They would not stir, were it to do me good: Why should a king be subiect 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 may 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 liue.

Enter Gaueston.

Gau.

My lord I heare it whispered euery where, That I am banishd, and must flie the land.

Edw.

Tis true sweete Gaueston, oh were it false, The Legate of the Pope will haue it so, And thou must hence, or I shall be deposd, But I will raigne to be reueng'd of them, And therefore sweete friend, take it patiently, Liue where thou wilt, ile send thee gould enough, And long thou shalt not stay, or if thou doost, Ile come to thee, my loue shall neare decline.

Gaue.

Is all my hope turnd to this hell of greefe.

Edw.

Rend not my hart with thy too piercing words

Thou from this land, I from my selfe am banisht.

Gau.

To go from hence, greeues not poore Gaueston, But to forsake you, in whose gratious lookes The blessednes of Gaueston remaines, For no where else seekes he felicitie.

Edw.

And onely this torments my wretched soule, That whether I will or no thou must depart: Be gouernour 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.

Gauest.

Tis something to be pitied of a king.

Edw.

Thou shalt not hence, ile hide thee Gaueston.

Gau.

I shal be found, and then twil greeue me more.

Edwa.

Kinde wordes, and mutuall talke, makes our greefe greater. Therefore with dum imbracement let vs part, Stay Gaueston I cannot leaue thee thus.

Gau.

For euery looke, my lord drops downe a teare, Seeing I must go, do not renew my sorrow.

Edwa.

The time is little that thou hast to stay, And therefore giue me leaue to looke my fill, But come sweete friend, ile beare thee on thy way.

Gau.

The peeres will frowne.

Edw.

I passe not for their anger, come lets go, O that we might as well returne as goe.

Enter Edmund and Queen Isabell.

Qu.

Whether goes my lord?

Edw.

Fawne not on me French strumpet, get thee gone.

Qu.

On whom but on my husband should I fawne?

Gau.

On Mortimer, with whom vngentle Queene, I say no more, iudge you the rest my lord.

Qu.

In saying this, thou wrongst me Gaueston, Ist not enough, that thou corrupts my lord, And art a bawd to his affections, But thou must call mine honor thus in question?

Gau.

I meane not so, your grace must pardon me.

Edw.

Thou art too familiar with that Mortimer, And by thy meanes is Gaueston exilde, But I would wish thee reconcile the lords, Or thou shalt nere be reconcild to me.

Qu.

Your highnes knowes, it lies not in my power.

Edw.

Away then, touch me not, come Gaueston.

Qu.

Villaine, tis thou that robst me of my lord.

Gau.

Madam, tis you that rob me of my lord.

Edw.

Speake not vnto her, let her droope and pine.

Qu.

Wherein my lord, haue I deserud these words? Witnesse the teares that Isabella sheds, Witnesse this hart, that sighing for thee breakes, How deare my lord is to poore Isabell.

Edw.

And witnesse heauen how deere thou art to me. There weepe, for till my Gaueston be repeald, Assure thy selfe thou comst not in my sight.

Exeunt Edward and Gaueston.

Qu.

O miserable and distressed Queene! Would when I left sweet France and was imbarkt, That charming Circes walking on the waues, 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 liued to see, The king my lord thus to abandon me: Like frantick Iuno will I fill the earth,

With gastlie murmure of my sighes and cries, For neuer doted Ioue on Ganimed, So much as he on cursed Gaueston, But that will more exasperate his wrath, I must entreat him, I must speake him faire, And be a meanes to call home Gaueston: And yet heele euer dote on Gaueston, And so am I for euer miserable.

Enter the Nobles to the Queene.

Lanc.

Looke where the sister of the king of Fraunce, Sits wringing of her hands, and beats her brest.

Warw.

The king I feare hath ill intreated her.

Pen.

Hard is the hart, that iniures such a saint.

Mor. iu.

I know tis long of Gaueston she weepes.

Mor. se.

Why? he is gone.

Mor. iu.

Madam, how fares your grace?

Qu.

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

Mor. iu.

Crie quittance Madam then, & loue not him.

Qu.

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

Lan.

Feare ye not Madam, now his minions gone, His wanton humor will be quicklie left.

Qu.

O neuer Lancaster! I am inioynde, To sue vnto you all for his repeale: This wils my lord, and this must I performe, Or else be banisht from his highnesse presence.

Lan.

For his repeale, Madam, he comes not back, Vnlesse the sea cast vp his shipwrack body.

War.

And to behold so sweete a sight as that, Theres none here, but would run his horse to death.

Mor. iu.

But madam, would you haue vs cal him home?

Qu.

I Mortimer, for till he be restorde,

The angrie king hath banished me the court: And therefore as thou louest and tendrest me, Be thou my aduocate vnto these peeres.

Mor. iu.

What, would ye haue me plead for Gaueston?

Mor. se.

Plead for him he that will, I am resolude.

Lan.

And so am I my lord, diswade the Queene.

Qu.

O Lancaster, let him diswade the king, For tis against my will he should returne.

War.

Then speake not for him, let the pesant go.

Qu.

Tis for my selfe I speake, and not for him.

Pen.

No speaking will preuaile, and therefore cease.

Mor. iu.

Faire Queene forbeare to angle for the fish, Which being caught, strikes him that takes it dead, I meane that vile Torpedo, Gaueston, That now I hope flotes on the Irish seas.

Qu.

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.

Mor. iu.

It is impossible, but speake your minde.

Qu.

Then thus, but none shal heare it but our selues.

Lanc.

My Lords albeit the Queen winne Mortimer, will you be resolute and hold with me?

Mor. se.

Not I against my nephew.

Pen.

Feare not, the queens words cannot alter him.

War.

No, doe but marke how earnestly she pleads.

Lan.

And see how coldly his lookes make deniall.

War.

She smiles, now for my life his mind is changd.

Lanc.

Ile rather loose his friendship I, then graunt.

Mor. iu.

Well of necessitie it must be so, My Lords, that I abhorre base Gaueston, I hope your honors make no question, And therefore though I pleade for his repeall, Tis not for his sake, but for our auaile:

Nay for the realms behoofe and for the kings.

Lanc.

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.

Mor. iu.

My Lord of Lancaster, marke the respect.

Lan.

In no respect can contraries be true.

Qu.

Yet good my lord, heare what he can alledge.

War.

All that he speakes, is nothing, we are resolu'd.

Mor. iu.

Do you not wish that Gaueston were dead?

Pen.

I would he were.

Mor. iu.

Why then my lord, giue me but leaue to speak.

Mor. se.

But nephew, do not play the sophister.

Mor. iu.

This which I vrge, is of a burning zeale, To mend the king, and do our countrie good: Know you not Gaueston hath store of golde, Which may in Ireland purchase him such friends, As he will front the mightiest of vs all, And whereas he shall liue and be beloude, Tis hard for vs to worke his ouerthrow.

War.

Marke you but that my lord of Lancaster.

Mor. iu.

But were he here, detested as he is, How easilie might some base slaue be subbornd, To greet his lordship with a poniard, And none so much as blame the murtherer, But rather praise him for that braue attempt, And in the Chronicle, enrowle his name, For purging of the realme of such a plague.

Pen.

He saith true.

Lan.

I, but how chance this was not done before?

Mor. iu.

Because my lords, it was not thought vpon: Nay more, when he shall know it lies in vs, To banish him, and then to call him home,

Twill make him vaile the topflag of his pride, And feare to offend the meanest noble man.

Mor. se.

But how if he do not Nephew?

Mor. iu.

Then may we with some colour rise in armes, For howsoeuer we haue borne it out, Tis treason to be vp against the king, So shall we haue 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 vs downe of the nobilitie, And when the commons and the nobles ioyne, Tis not the king can buckler Gaueston. 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 Gaueston.

Lan.

On that condition Lancaster will graunt.

War.

And so will Penbrooke and I.

Mor. se.

And I.

Mor. iu.

In this I count me highly gratified, And Mortimer will rest at your commaund.

Qu.

And when this fauour Isabell forgets, Then let her liue abandond and forlorne, But see in happie time, my lord the king, Hauing brought the Earle of Cornewall on his way, Is new returnd, this newes will glad him much, Yet not so much as me, I loue him more Then he can Gaueston, would he lou'd me But halfe so much, then were I treble blest.

Enter king Edward moorning.

Edw.

Hees gone, and for his absence thus I moorne, Did neuer sorrow go so neere my heart,

As dooth the want of my sweete Gaueston, And could my crownes reuenew bring him back, I would freelie giue it to his enemies, And thinke I gaind, hauing bought so deare a friend.

Qu.

Harke how he harpes vpon his minion.

Edw.

My heart is as an anuill vnto sorrow, Which beates vpon it like the Cyclops hammers, And with the noise turnes vp my giddie braine, And makes me frantick for my Gaueston: Ah had some bloudlesse furie rose from hell, And with my kinglie scepter stroke me dead, When I was forst to leaue my Gaueston.

Lan.

Diablo, what passions call you these

Qu.

My gratious lord, I come to bring you newes.

Edw.

That you haue parled with your Mortimer.

Qu.

That Gaueston my Lord shalbe repeald.

Edw.

Repeald, the newes is too sweet to be true.

Qu.

But will you loue me, if you finde it so?

Edw.

If it be so, what will not Edward do?

Qu.

For Gaueston, but not for Isabell.

Edw.

For thee saire Queene, if thou louest Gaueston, Ile hang a golden tongue about thy neck, Seeing thou hast pleaded with so good successe.

Qu.

No other iewels hang about my neck Then these my lord, nor let me haue more wealth, Then I may fetch from this ritch treasurie: O how a kisse reuiues poore Isabell.

Edw.

Once more receiue my hand, and let this be, A second mariage twixt thy selfe and me.

Qu.

And may it prooue more happie then the first, My gentle lord, be speake these nobles faire, That waite attendance for a gratious looke, And on their knees salute your maiestie.

Edw.

Couragious Lancaster, imbrace thy king, And as grosse vapours perish by the sunne, Euen so let hatred with thy soueraigne smile, Liue thou with me as my companion.

Lan.

This salutation ouerioyes my heart.

Edw.

Warwick, shalbe my chiefest counseller: These siluer haires will more adorne my court, Then gaudie silkes, or rich imbrotherie, Chide me sweete Warwick, if I go astray.

War.

Slay me my lord, when I offend your grace.

Edw.

In sollemne triumphes, and in publike showes, Penbrooke shall beare the sword before the king.

Pen.

And with this sword, Penbrooke wil fight for you.

Edw.

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.

Mor. iu.

My lord, ile marshall so your enemies, As England shall be quiet, and you safe.

Edw.

And as for you, lord Mortimer of Chirke, Whose great atchiuements in our forrain warre, Deserues no common place, nor meane reward: Be you the generall of the leuied troopes, That now are readie to assaile the Scots.

Mor. se.

In this your grace hath highly honoured me, For with my nature warre doth best agree.

Qu.

Now is the king of England riche and strong. Hauing the loue of his renowned peeres.

Edw.

I Isabell, nere was my heart so light, Clarke of the crowne, direct our warrant forth, For Gaueston to Ireland: Beamont flie, As fast as Iris, or Ioues Mercurie.

Beam.

It shalbe done my gratious Lord.

Edw.

Lord Mortimer, we leaue you to your charge. Now let vs in, and feast it roiallie: Against our friend the earle of Cornewall comes, Weele haue a generall tilt and turnament, And then his mariage shalbe solemnized, For wot you not that I haue made him sure, Vnto our cosin, the earle of Glosters heire.

Lan.

Such newes we heare my lord.

Edw.

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 loue.

Warwick.

In this, or ought, your highnes shall com∣maund vs.

Edward.

Thankes gentle Warwick, come lets in and reuell.

Exeunt.

Manent Mortimers.

Mor. se.

Nephue, I must to Scotland, thou staiest here, Leaue now to oppose thy selfe against the king, Thou seest by nature he is milde and calme, And seeing his minde so dotes on Gaueston, Let him without controulement haue his will, The mightiest kings haue had their minions, Great Alexander loude Ephestion, The conquering Hector, for Hilas wept, And for Patroclus sterne Achillis droopt, And not kings onelie, but the wisest men, The Romaine Tullie loued Octauis, Graue Socrates, wilde Alcibiades: Then let his grace, whose youth is flexible, And promiseth as much as we can wish, Freely enioy that vaine light-headed earle, For riper yeares will weane him from such toyes.

Mor. iu.

Vnckle, his wanton humor greeues not me,

But this I scorne, that one so baselie borne, Should by his soueraignes fauour grow so pert, And riote it with the treasure of the realme, While souldiers mutinie for want of paie, He weares a lords reuenewe on his back, And Midas like he iets it in the court, With base outlandish cullions at his heeles, Whose proud fantastick liueries make such show, As if that Proteus god of shapes appearde, I haue not seene a dapper lack so briske, He weares a short Italian hooded cloake, Larded with pearle, and in his tuskan cap A iewell 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 iest at our attire: Vnckle, tis this that makes me impatient.

Mor. se.

But nephew, now you see the king is changd.

Mor. iu.

Then so am I, and liue to do him seruice, But whiles I haue a sword, a hand, a hart, I will not yeeld to any such vpstart. You know my minde, come vnckle lets away.

Exeunt.

Enter Spencer and Balduck.

Bald.

Spencer, seeing that our Lord th'earle of Glo∣sters dead, Which of the nobles dost thou meane to serue?

Spen.

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 vs, But he that hath the fauour of a king, May with one word, aduaunce vs while we liue:

The liberall earle of Cornewall is the man, On whose good fortune Spencers hope depends.

Bald.

What, meane you then to be his follower?

Spen.

No, his companion, for he loues me well, And would haue once preferd me to the king.

Bald.

But he is banisht, theres small hope of him.

Spen.

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 euen 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 louer Gaueston.

Bald.

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.

Spen.

Our Ladies first loue is not wauering, My life for thine she will haue Gaueston.

Bald.

Then hope I by her meanes to be preferd, Hauing read vnto her since she was a childe.

Spen.

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 Veluet 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 fauour with great men, You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute,

And now and then, stab as occasion serues.

Bald.

Spencer, thou knowest I hate such formall toies, And vse them but of meere hypocrisie. Mine old lord whiles he liude, 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 pendants I, That cannot speake without propterea quod.

Spen.

But one of those that saith quandoquidem, And hath a speciall gift to forme a verbe.

Bald.

Leaue of this iesting, here my lady comes.

Enter the Ladie.

Lady.

The greefe for his exile was not so much, As is the ioy of his returning home, This letter came from my sweete Gaueston, VVhat needst thou loue, 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 loue of my Lord, VVhen I forsake thee, death seaze on my heart, But rest thee here where Gaueston shall sleepe. Now to the letter of my Lord the King, He wils me to repaire vnto the court, And meete my Gaueston: why do I stay, Seeing that he talkes thus of my mariage day? VVhose there, Balduck? See that my coache be readie, I must hence.

Bald.

It shall be done madam.

Exit.

Lad.

And meete me at the parke pale presentlie: Spencer, stay you and beare me companie,

For I haue ioyfull newes to tell thee of, My lord of Cornewall is a comming ouer, And will be at the court as soone as we.

Spen.

I knew the King would haue him home againe.

Lad.

If all things sort out, as I hope they will, Thy seruice Spencer shalbe thought vpon.

Spen.

I humbly thanke your Ladieship.

Lad.

Come lead the way, I long till I am there.

Enter Edward, the Queene, Lancaster, Mortimer, Warwicke, Penbrooke, Kent, attendants.

Edw.

The winde is good, I wonder why he stayes, I feare me he is wrackt vpon the sea.

Queen.

Looke Lancaster how passionate he is, And still his minde runs on his minion.

Lan.

My Lord.

Edw.

How now, what newes, is Gaueston arriude?

Mor. i.

Nothing but Gaueston, what means your grace? You haue matters of more waight to thinke vpon, The King of Fraunce sets foote in Normandie.

Edw.

A triflle, weele expell him when we please: But tell me Mortimer, whats thy deuise, Against the stately triumph we decreed?

Mor.

A homely one my lord, not worth the telling.

Edw.

Prethee let me know it.

Mor. iu.

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 vp, And gets vnto the highest bough of all, The motto: Aeque tandem.

Edw.

And what is yours my lord of Lancaster?

Lan.

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 vp, but thers a foule, That seaseth it: this fish my lord I beare, The motto this: Vndique mors est.

Edw.

Proud Mortimer, vngentle Lancaster, Is this the loue you beare your soueraigne? 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 priuate libelling, Against the Earle of Cornewall and my brother?

Qu.

Sweete husband be content, they all loue you.

Edw.

They loue me not that hate my Gaueston, I am that Cedar, shake me not too much, And you the Eagles, sore ye nere so high, I haue the gresses that will pull you downe, And Aeque tandem shall that canker crie, Vnto 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.

Mor. iu.

If in his absence thus he fauors him, What will he do when as he shall be present?

Lan.

That shall wee see, looke where his lordship comes.

Enter Gaueston.

Edw.

My Gaueston, welcome to Tinmouth, welcome to thy friend, Thy absence made me droope, and pine away, For as the louers of faire Danae, When she was lockt vp 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.

Gau.

Sweet Lord and King, your speech preuenteth mine, Yet haue I words left to expresse my ioy: The sheepeherd nipt with biting winters rage, Frolicks not more to see the paynted springe, Then I doe to behold your Maiestie.

Edw.

Will none of you salute my Gaueston?

Lan.

Salute him? yes welcome Lord Chamberlaine.

Mor. iu.

Welcome is the good Earle of Cornewall

War.

Welcome Lord gouernour of the Ile of man.

Pen.

Welcome maister secretarie.

Edw.

Brother doe you heare them?

Edw.

Stil wil these Earles and Barrons vse me thus?

Gau.

My Lord I cannot brooke these iniuries.

Qu.

Aye me poore soule when these begin to iarre.

Edw.

Returne it to their throtes, ile be thy warrant.

Gau.

Base leaden Earles that glorie in your birth, Goe sit at home and eate your tenants beefe: And come not here to scoffe at Gaueston, Whose mounting thoughts did neuer creepe so low, As to bestow a looke on such as you.

Lan.

Yet I disdaine not to doe this for you.

Edw.

Treason, treason: whers the traitor?

Pen.

Heere here King: conuey hence Gaueston, thaile murder him.

Gau.

The life of thee shall salue this foule disgrace.

Mor. iu.

Villaine thy life, vnlesse I misse mine aime.

Qu.

Ah surious Mortimer what hast thou done?

Mor.

No more then I would answere were he slaine.

Ed.

Yes more then thou canst answer though he liue, Deare shall you both abie this riotous deede: Out of my presence, come not neere the court.

Mor. iu.

Ile not be barde the court for Gaueston.

Lan.

Weele haile him by the eares vnto the block.

Edw.

Looke to your owne heads, his is sure enough.

War.

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

Edm.

Warwicke, these words do ill beseeme thy yeares.

Edw.

Nay all of them conspire to crosse me thus, But if I liue, ile tread vpon their heads, That thinke with high lookes thus to tread me down, Come Edmund lets away, and leuie men, Tis warre that must abate these Barons pride.

Exit the King.

War.

Lets to our castels, for the king is mooude.

Mor. iu.

Moou'd may he be, and perish in his wrath.

Lan.

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

Mor. iu.

By heauen, the abiect villaine shall not liue.

War.

Ile haue his bloud, or die in seeking it.

Pen.

The like oath Penbrooke takes.

Lan.

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

Enter a Poast.

Mor. iu.

Letters, from whence?

Messen.

From Scotland my lord.

Lan.

Why how now cosin, how fares all our friends?

Mor. iu.

My vnckles taken prisoner by the Scots.

Lā.

Weel haue him ransomd man, be of good cheere.

Mor.

They rate his ransome at fiue thousand pound, Who should defray the money, but the King, Seeing he is taken prisoner in his warres? Ile to the King.

Lan.

Do cosin, and ile beare thee companie.

War.

Meane time my lord of Penbrooke and my selfe, Will to Newcastell heere, and gather head.

Mor. iu.

About it then, and we will follow you.

Lan.

Be resolute, and full of secrecie.

War.

I warrant you.

Mor. iu.

Cosin, and if he will not ransome him, Ile thunder such a peale into his eares, As neuer subiect did vnto his King.

Lan.

Content, ile beare my part, holl a whose there?

Mor. iu

I marry, such a garde as this dooth well.

Lan.

Lead on the way.

Guard.

Whither will your lordships?

Mor. iu.

Whither else but to the King.

Guar.

His highnes is disposde to be alone.

Lan.

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

Guard.

You may not in my lord.

Mor. iu.

May we not.

Edw.

How now, what noise is this? Who haue we there, ist you?

Mor.

Nay, stay my lord, I come to bring you newes, Mine vnckles taken prisoner by the Scots.

Edw.

Then ransome him.

Lan.

Twas in your wars, you should ransome him.

Mor iu.

And you shall ransome him, or else.

Edm.

What Mortimer, you will not threaten him?

Edw.

Quiet your self, you shall haue the broad seale, To gather for him thoroughout the realme.

Lan.

Your minion Gaueston hath taught you this.

Mor. iu.

My lord, the familie of the Mortimers Are not so poore, but would they sell their land, Would leuie men enough to anger you, We neuer beg, but vse such praiers as these.

Edw.

Shall I still be haunted thus?

Mor. iu.

Nay, now you are heere alone, ile speake my minde.

Lan.

And so will I, and then my lord farewell.

Mor.

The idle triumphes, maskes, lasciuious showes And prodigall gifts bestowed on Gaueston, Haue drawne thy treasure drie, and made thee weake, The murmuring commons ouerstretched hath.

Lan.

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, Liues vncontroulde within the English pale, Vnto the walles of Yorke the Scots made rode, And vnresisted, draue away riche spoiles.

Mor. iu.

The hautie Dane commands the narrow seas, While in the harbor ride thy ships vnrigd.

Lan.

What forraine prince sends thee embassadors?

Mor.

Who loues thee? but a sort of flatterers.

Lan.

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

Mor.

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 loue: Libels are cast againe thee in the streete, Ballads and rimes, made of thy ouerthrow.

Lan.

The Northren borderers seeing the houses burnt Their wiues and children slaine, run vp and downe, Cursing the name of thee and Gaueston.

Mor.

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 fauors hung like labels downe.

Lan.

And thereof came it, that the fleering Scots, To Englands high disgrace, haue made this Iig, Maids of England, sore may you moorne, For your lemmons you haue lost, at Bannocks borne, With a heaue and a ho, VVhat weeneth the king of England, So soone to haue woone Scotland, With a rombelow.

Mor.

Wigmore shall flie, to set my vnckle free.

Lan.

And when tis gone, our swordes shall purchase more, If ye be moou'de, reuenge it as you can, Looke next to see vs with our ensignes spred.

Exeunt Nobiles.

Edwa.

My swelling hart for very anger breakes, How oft haue I beene baited by these peeres? And dare not be reuengde, for their power is great: Yet, shall the crowing of these cockerels, Affright a Lion? Edward, vnfolde thy pawes, And let their liues bloud slake thy furies hunger: If I be cruell, and growe tyrannous, Now let them thanke themselues, and rue too late.

Kent.

My lord, I see your loue to Gaueston, VVill be the ruine of the realme and you, For now the wrathfull nobles threaten warres, And therefore brother banish him for euer.

Edw.

Art thou an enemie to my Gaueston?

Kent.

I, and it greeues me that I fauoured him.

Edw.

Traitor be gone, whine thou with Mortimer.

Kent.

So will I, rather then with Gaueston.

Edw.

Out of my sight, and trouble me no more.

Kent.

No maruell though thou scorne thy noble peeres, VVhen I thy brother am reiected thus.

Exit.

Edw.

Away poore Gaueston, that hast no friend but me, Do what they can, weele liue in Tinmoth here, And so I walke with him about the walles, VVhat care I though the Earles be girt vs round, Heere comes she thats cause of all these iarres.

Enter the Queene, Ladies 3, Baldock, and Spencer.

Qu.

My lord, tis thought, the Earles are vp in armes.

Edw.

I, and tis likewise thought you fauour him.

Qu.

Thus do you still suspect me without cause.

La.

Sweet vnckle speake more kindly to the queene.

Gau.

My lord, dissemble with her, speake her faire.

Edw.

Pardon me sweet, I forgot my selfe.

Qu.

Your pardon is quicklie got of Isabell.

Edw.

The yonger Mortimer is growne so braue, That to my face he threatens ciuill warres.

Gau.

VVhy do you not commit him to the tower?

Edw.

I dare not, for the people loue him well.

Gau.

Why then weele haue him priuilie made away.

Edw.

VVould Lancaster and he had both carroust, A bowle of poison to each others health: But let them go, and tell me what are these.

Lad.

Two of my fathers seruants whilst he liu'de, Mait please your grace to entertaine them now.

Edw.

Tell me, where wast thou borne?

VVhat is thine armes?

Bald.

My name is Baldock, and my gentrie I fetcht from Oxford, not from Heraldrie.

Edw.

The fitter art thou Baldock for my turne, VVaite on me, and ile see thou shalt not want.

Bald.

I humblie thanke your maiestie.

Edw.

Knowest thou him Gaueston?

Gau.

I my lord, his name is Spencer, he is well alied, For my sake let him waite vpon your grace, Scarce shall you finde a man of more desart.

Edw.

Then Spencer waite vpon me, for his sake Ile grace thee with a higher stile ere long.

Spen.

No greater titles happen vnto me, Then to be fauoured of your maiestie.

Edw.

Cosin, this day shalbe your mariage feast, And Gaueston, thinke that I loue thee well, To wed thee to our neece, the onely heire Vnto the Earle of Gloster late deceased.

Gau.

I know my lord, many will stomack me, But I respect neither their loue nor hate.

Edw.

The head-strong Barons shall not limit me. He that I list to fauour shall be great: Come lets away, and when the mariage ends, Haue at the rebels, and their complices.

Exeunt omnes.

Enter Lancaster, Mortimer, Warwick, Penbrooke, Kent.

Kent.

My lords, of loue to this our natiue land, I come to ioine with you, and leaue the king, And in your quarrell and the realmes behoofe, VVill be the first that shall aduenture life.

Lan.

I feare me you are sent of pollicie,

To vndermine vs with a showe of loue.

Warw.

He is your brother, therefore haue we cause To cast the worst, and doubt of your reuolt.

Edm.

Mine honor shalbe hostage of my truth, If that will not suffice, farewell my lords.

Mor. iu.

Stay Edmund, neuer was Plantagenet False of his word, and therefore trust we thee.

Pen.

But whats the reason you should leaue him now?

Kent.

I haue enformd the Earle of Lancaster.

Lan.

And it sufficeth: now my lords know this, That Gaueston is secretlie arriude, And here in Tinmoth frollicks with the king, Let vs with these our followers scale the walles, And sodenly surprize them vnawares.

Mor. iu.

Ile giue the onset.

War.

And ile follow thee.

Mor. iu.

This tottered ensigne of my auncesters, Which swept the desart shore of that dead sea, Whereof we got the name of Mortimer, Will I aduaunce vpon this castell walles, Drums strike alarum, raise them from their sport, And ring aloude the knell of Gaueston.

Lanc.

None be so hardie as to touche the King, But neither spare you Gaueston, nor his friends.

Exeunt.

Enter the king and Spencer, to them Gaueston, &c.

Edw.

O tell me Spencer, where is Gaueston?

Spen.

I feare me he is slaine my gratious lord.

Edw.

No, here he comes, now let them spoile and kill: Flie, flie, my lords, the earles haue got the holde, Take shipping and away to Scarborough, Spencer and I will post away by land.

Gau.

O stay my lord, they will not iniure you.

Edw.

I will not trust them, Gaueston away.

Gau.

Farewell my Lord.

Edw.

Ladie, farewell.

Lad.

Farewell sweete vnckle till we meete againe.

Edw.

Farewell sweete Gaueston, and farewell Neece.

Qu.

No farewell, to poore Isabell, thy Queene?

Edw.

Yes, yes, for Mortimer your louers sake.

Exeunt omnes, manet Isabella.

Qu.

Heauens can witnesse, I loue 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 neuer part.

Enter the Barons alarums.

Lan.

I wonder how he scapt.

Mor. iu.

Whose this, the Queene?

Qu.

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

Mor. iu.

Cease to lament, and tell vs wheres the king?

Qu.

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

Lan.

No madam, but that cursed Gaueston, Farre be it from the thought of Lancaster, To offer violence to his soueraigne, We would but rid the realme of Gaueston, Tell vs where he remaines, and he shall die.

Qu.

Hees gone by water vnto Scarborough, Pursue him quicklie, and he cannot scape, The king hath left him, and his traine is small.

War.

Forslowe no time, sweet Lancaster lets march.

Mor.

How comes it, that the king and he is parted?

Qu.

That this your armie going seuerall waies, Might be of lesser sorce, and with the power That he intendeth presentlie to raise, Be easilie supprest: and therefore be gone.

Mor.

Heere in the riuer rides a Flemish hoie, Lets all aboord, and follow him amaine.

Lan.

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

Mor.

Madam, stay you within this castell here.

Qu.

No Mortimer, ile to my lord the king.

Mor.

Nay, rather saile with vs to Scarborough.

Qu.

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

Mor.

Madam, I cannot stay to answer you, But thinke of Mortimer as he deserues.

Qu.

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

Exeunt.

Enter Gaueston pursued.

Gau.

Yet lustie lords I haue escapt your handes, Your threats, your larums, and your hote pursutes, And though deuorsed from king Edwards eyes, Yet liueth Pierce of Gaueston vnsurprizd, Breathing, in hope (malgrado all your beards, That muster rebels thus against your king) To see his royall soueraigne once againe.

Enter the Nobles.

War.

Vpon him souldiers, take away his weapons.

Mor.

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, Vpon my weapons point here shouldst thou fall, And welter in thy goare.

Lan.

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, Kind Edward is not heere to buckler thee.

War.

Lancaster, why talkst thou to the slaue? Go souldiers take him hence, For by my sword, his head shall off: Gaueston, short warning shall serue thy turne: It is our countries cause, That here seuerelie we will execute, Vpon thy person: hang him at a bough:

Gau.

My Lord.

War.

Souldiers, haue him away: But for thou wert the fauorit of a King, Thou shalt haue so much honor at our hands.

Gau.

I thanke you all my lords, then I perceiue,

That heading is one, and hanging is the other, And death is all.

Enter earle of Arundell.

Lan.

How now my lord of Arundell?

Arun.

My lords, king Edward greetes you all by me.

War.

Arundell, say your message.

Aru.

His maiesty, hearing that you had takē Gaueston, 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.

Warw.

How now?

Gau.

Renowmed Edward, how thy name Reuiues poore Gaueston.

War.

No, it needeth not, Arundell, we will gratifie the king In other matters, he must pardon vs in this, Souldiers away with him.

Gauest.

Why my Lord of VVarwicke, Will not these delaies beget my hopes? I know it lords, it is this life you aime at, Yet graunt king Edward this.

Mor. iu.

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 Gaueston, or else his sencelesse trunck.

Lan.

Not so my Lord, least he bestow more cost, In burying him, then he hath euer earned.

Arun.

My lords, it is his maiesties request, And in the honor of a king he sweares,

He will but talke with him and send him backe.

War.

When can you tell? Arundell no, we wot, He that the care of realme remits, And driues his nobles to these exigents For Gaueston, will if he zease him once, Violate any promise to possesse him.

Arun.

Then if you will not trust his grace in keepe, My lords, I will be pledge for his returne.

Mor. iu.

It is honourable in thee to offer this, But for we know thou art a noble gentleman, We will not wrong thee so, To make away a true man for a theefe.

Gaue.

How meanst thou Mortimer? that is ouer base.

Mor.

Away base groome, robber of kings renowme, Question with thy companions and thy mates.

Pen.

My lord Mortimer, and you my lords each one, To gratifie the kings request therein, Touching the sending of this Gaueston, Because his maiestie so earnestlie Desires to see the man before his death, I will vpon mine honor vndertake To carrie him, and bring him back againe, Prouided this, that you my lord of Arundell Will ioyne with me.

War.

Penbrooke, what wilt thou do? Cause yet more bloudshed: is it not enough That we haue taken him, but must we now Leaue him on had-I wist, and let him go?

Pen.

My lords, I will not ouer wooe your honors, But if you dare trust Penbrooke with the prisoner, Vpon mine oath I will returne him back.

Arun.

My lord of Lancaster, what say you in this?

Lan.

Why I say, let him go on Penbrookes word.

Pen.

And you lord Mortimer.

Mor. iu.

How say you my lord of Warwick.

War.

Nay, do your pleasures, I know how twill prooue.

Pen.

Then giue him me.

Gau.

Sweete soueraigne, yet I come To see thee ere I die.

Warw.

Yet not perhaps, If Warwickes wit and policie preuaile.

Mor. iu.

My lord of Penbrooke, we deliuer him you, Returne him on your honor, sound away.

Exeunt.

Manent Penbrooke, Mat. Gauest. & Pen∣brookes men, foure souldiers.

Pen.

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 haue prettie wenches to our wiues, Sir, must not come so neare and balke their lips.

Mat.

Tis verie kindlie spoke my lord of Penbrooke, Your honor hath an adamant of power, To drawe a prince.

Pen.

So my lord, come hether Iames, I do commit this Gaueston to thee, Be thou this night his keeper, in the morning We will discharge thee of thy charge, be gon.

Gau.

Vnhappie Gaueston, whether goest thou now.

Exit cum seruis Pen.

Horse boy.

My lord, weele quicklie be at Cobham.

Exeunt ambo.

Enter Gaueston moorning, and the earle of Penbrookes men.

Gaue.

O treacherous Warwicke thus to wrong thy friend!

Iames.

I see it is your life these armes pursue.

Gau.

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.

War.

My lord of Penbrookes men, Striue you no longer, I will haue that Gaueston.

Iam.

Your lordship doth dishonor to your selfe, And wrong our lord, your honorable friend.

War.

No Iames, it is my countries cause I follow, Goe, take the villaine, soldiers come away, Weel make quick worke, cōmend me to your maister My friend, and tell him that I watcht it well, Come, let thy shadow parley with king Edward.

Gau.

Treacherous earle, shall I not see the king?

War.

The king of heauen perhaps, no other king, Away.

Exeunt Warwike and his men, with Gauest.

Manet Iames cum caeteris.

Come fellowes, it booted not for vs to striue, We will in hast go certifie our Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter king Edward and Spencer, with Drummes and Fifes.

Edw.

I long to heare an answer from the Barons Touching my friend, my deerest Gaueston, 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, VVarwick I know is roughe, and Lancaster Inexorable, and I shall neuer see My louely Pierce, my Gaueston againe, The Barons ouerbeare me with their pride.

Spencer.

Were I king Edward Englands soueraigne,

Sonne to the louelie Elenor of Spaine, Great Edward Longshankes issue: would I bear These braues, this rage, and suffer vncontrowld 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 maiestie 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.

Edw.

Yea gentle Spencer, we haue beene too milde, Too kinde to them, but now haue drawne our sword, And if they send me not my Gaueston, Weele steele it on their crest, and powle their tops.

Bald.

This haught resolue becomes your maiestie, Not to be tied to their affection, As though your highnes were a schoole boy still, And must be awde and gouernd like a child.

Enter Hugh Spencer an old man, father to the yong Spencer, with his trunchion, and soldiers.

Spen. pa.

Long liue my soueraigne the noble Edward, In peace triumphant, fortunate in warres.

Edw.

Welcome old man, comst thou in Edwards aide? Then tell thy prince, of whence, and what thou art.

Spen. pa.

Loe, with a band of bowmen and of pikes, Browne bils, and targetiers, 400 strong, Sworne to defend king Edwards royall right, I come in person to your maiestie, Spencer, the father of Hugh Spencer there,

Bound to your highnes euerlastinglie, For fauors done in him, vnto vs all.

Edw.

Thy father Spencer?

Spen. filius.

True, and it like your grace, That powres in lieu of all your goodnes showne, His life my lord, before your princely feete.

Edw.

Welcome ten thousand times, old man againe, Spencer, this loue, 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 fauour, That as the sun-shine shall reflect ore thee: Beside, the more to manifest our loue, Because we heare Lord Bruse dooth sell his land, And that the Mortimers are in hand withall, Thou shalt haue crownes of vs, t'out bid the Barons, And Spenser, spare them not, but lay it on. Souldiers a largis, and thrice welcome all.

Spen.

My lord, here comes the Queene.

Enter the Queene and her sonne, and Lewne a Frenchman.

Edw.

Madam, what newes?

Qu.

Newes of dishonor lord, and discontent, Our friend Lewne, faithfull and full of trust, Informeth vs, 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.

Edw.

Welcome Lewne, tush Sib, if this be all, Valoys and I will soone be friends againe, But to my Gaueston: shall I neuer see, Neuer 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 brauelie to the king, And do your message with a maiestie.

Prin.

Commit not to my youth things of more waigh Then fits a prince so yong as I to beare, And feare not lord and father, heauens great beames On Atlas shoulder, shall not lie more safe, Then shall your charge committed to my trust.

Qu.

A boye, this towardnes makes thy mother feare Thou art not markt to many daies on earth.

Edw.

Madam, we will that you with speed be shipt, And this our sonne, Lewne shall follow you, With all the hast we can dispatch him hence, Choose of our lords to beare you companie, And go in peace, leaue vs in warres at home.

Qu.

Vnnatural wars, where subiects braue their king, God end them once, my lord I take my leaue, To make my preparation for Fraunce.

Enter lord Matre.

Edw.

What lord Matre. dost thou come alone?

Mat.

Yea my good lord, for Gaueston is dead.

Edw.

Ah traitors, haue they put my friend to death, Tell me Matre. died he ere thou camst, Or didst thou see my friend to take his death?

Matr.

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, vpon the honour of my name, That I would vndertake to carrie him Vnto your highnes, and to bring him back.

Edw.

And tell me, would the rebels denie me that?

Spen.

Proud recreants.

Edw.

Yea Spencer, traitors all.

Matr.

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 receiue me pledge for him, The earle of Penbrooke mildlie thus bespake. My lords, because our soueraigne sends for him, And promiseth he shall be safe returnd, I will this vndertake, to haue him hence, And see him redeliuered to your hands.

Edw.

Well, and how fortunes that he came not?

Spen.

Some treason, or some villanie was cause.

Mat.

The earle of Warwick seazde him on his way, For being deliuered vnto 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 vnto the campe.

Spen.

A bloudie part, flatly against law of armes.

Edw.

O shall I speake, or shall I sigh and die!

Spen.

My lord, referre your vengeance to the sword, Vpon these Barons, harten vp your men, Let them not vnreuengd murther your friends, Aduaunce your standard Edward in the field, And marche to sire them from their starting holes.

Edward kneeles, and saith.

By earth, the common mother of vs all, By heauen, and all the moouing orbes thereof, By this right hand, and by my fathers sword, And all the honors longing to my crowne, I will haue heads, and liues for him as many,

As I haue 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 reuenge immortallie, On your accursed traiterous progenie: You villaines that haue slaine my Gaueston, And in this place of honor and of trust, Spencer, sweet Spencer, I adopt thee heere, And meerely of our loue we do create thee Earle of Gloster, and lord Chamberlaine, Despite of times, despite of enemies.

Spen.

My lord, heres is a messenger from the Barons, Desires accesse vnto your maiestie.

Edw.

Admit him neere.

Enter the Herald from the Barons, with his coate of armes.

Messen.

Long liue king Edward, Englands lawful lord.

Edw.

So wish not they I wis that sent thee hither, Thou comst from Mortimer and his complices, A ranker route of rebels neuer was: Well, say thy message.

Messen.

The Barons vp 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 haue ease and remedie, That from your princely person you remooue This Spencer, as a putrifying branche, That deads the royall vine, whose golden leaues

Empale your princelie head, your diadem, Whose brightnes such pernitious vpstarts dim, Say they, and louinglie aduise your grace, To cherish vertue and nobilitie, And haue old seruitors in high esteeme, And shake off smooth dissembling flatterers: This graunted, they, their honors, and their liues, Are to your highnesse vowd and consecrate.

Spen.

A traitors, will they still display their pride?

Edw.

Away, tarrie no answer, but be gon, Rebels, will they appoint their soueraigne His sports, his pleasures, and his companie: Yet ere thou go, see how I do deuorce

Embrace Spencer.

Spencer from me: now get thee to thy lords, And tell them I will come to chastise them, For murthering Gaueston: hie thee, get thee gone, Edward with fire and sword, followes at thy heeles, My lord, perceiue you how these rebels swell: Souldiers, good harts, defend your soueraignes right, For now, euen 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.

Edw.

Why do we sound retreat? vpon them lords, This day I shall powre vengeance with my sword On those proud rebels that are vp in armes, And do confront and countermaund their king.

Spen. son.

I doubt it not my lord, right will preuaile.

Spen. fa.

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.

Spen. son.

Heere come the rebels.

Enter the Barons, Mortimer, Lancaster, Warwick, Penbrooke, cum caeteris.

Mor.

Looke Lancaster, yonder is Edward among his flatterers.

Lan.

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

War.

And shall or Warwicks sword shal smite in vaine.

Edw.

What rebels, do you shrinke, and sound retreat?

Mor. iu.

No Edward, no, thy flatterers faint and flie.

Lan.

Th'ad best betimes forsake thee and their trains, For theile betray thee, traitors as they are.

Spen. so.

Traitor on thy face, rebellious Lancaster.

Pen.

Away base vpstart, brau'st thou nobles thus.

Spen. fa.

A noble attempt, and honourable deed, Is it not trowe ye, to assemble aide, And leuie armes against your lawfull king?

Edw.

For which ere long, their heads shall satisfie, T'appeaze the wrath of their offended king.

Mor. iu.

Then Edward, thou wilt fight it to the last, And rather bathe thy sword in subiects bloud, Then banish that pernicious companie.

Edw.

I traitors all, rather then thus be braude, Make Englands ciuill townes huge heapes of stones, And plowes to go about our pallace gates.

War.

A desperate and vnnaturall resolution, Alarum to the fight, saint George for England, And the Barons right.

Edw.

S. George for England, and king Edwards right.

Enter Edward, with the Barons captiues.

Edw.

Now lustie lords, now not by chance of warre, But iustice of the quarrell and the cause

Vaild is your pride, me thinkes you hang the head But weele aduance them traitors, now tis time To be auengd on you for all your braues, And for the murther of my deerest friend, To whome right well you knew our soule was knit, Good Pierce of Gaueston my sweet fauoret, A rebels, recreants, you made him away.

Edm.

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

Edw.

So sir, you haue spoke, away, auoid our presence, Accursed wretches, wast in regard of vs, When we had sent our messenger to request He might be spared to come to speake with vs, And Penbrooke vndertooke for his returne, That thou proud Warwicke watcht the prisoner, Poore Pierce, and headed him against lawe of armes, For which thy head shall ouer looke the rest. As much as thou in rage out wentst the rest?

War.

Tyrant, I scorne thy threats and menaces, Tis but temporall that thou canst inflict.

Lan.

The worst is death, and better die to liue, Then liue in infamie vnder such a king.

Edw.

Away with them my lord of Winchester, These lustie leaders Warwicke and Lancaster, I charge you roundly off with both their heads, away.

War.

Farewell vaine worlde.

Lan.

Sweete Mortimer farewell.

Mor. iu.

England, vnkinde to thy nobilitie, Grone for this greefe, behold how thou art maimed.

Edw.

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.

Mor. iu.

What Mortimer? can ragged stonie walle

••••••ure thy vertue that aspires to heauen, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Edward, Englands scourge, it may not be, Mortimers hope surmounts his fortune farre.

Edw.

Sound drums and trumpets, marche with me my friends, Edward this day hath crownd him king a new.

Exit.

Manent Spencer filius, Lewne & Baldock.

Spen.

Lewne, the trust that we repose in thee, Begets the quiet of king Edwards land, Therefore be gon in hast, and with aduice, Bestowe that treasure on the lords of Fraunce, That therewith all enchaunted like the guarde, That suffered Ioue 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.

Lew.

Thats it these Barons and the subtill Queene, Long leuied at.

Bald.

Yea, but Lewne thou seest, These Barons lay their heads on blocks together, What they intend, the hangman frustrates cleane.

Lewn.

Haue you no doubts my lords, ile claps 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.

Spen.

Then make for Fraunce, amaine Lewne away, Proclaime king Edwards warres and victories.

Exeunt omnes.

Enter Edmund.

Edm.

Faire blowes the winde for Fraunce, blowe gentle gale, Till Edmund be arriude 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, Vnnaturall king, to slaughter noble men And cherish flatterers: Mortimer I stay Thy sweet escape, stand gratious gloomie night to his deuice.

Enter Mortimer disguised.

Mor. iu.

Holla, who walketh there, ist you my lord?

Edm.

Mortimer tis I, but hath thy potion wrought so happilie?

Mor. iu.

It hath my lord, the warders all a sleepe, I thanke them, gaue me leaue to passe in peace: But hath your grace got shipping vnto Fraunce?

Edm.

Feare it not.

Exeunt.

Enter the Queene and her sonne.

Qu.

A boye, our friends do faile vs all in Fraunce, The lords are cruell, and the king vnkinde, What shall we doe?

Prince.

Madam, returne to England, And please my father well, and then a Fig For all my vnckles frienship here in Fraunce, I warrant you, ile winne his highnes quicklie, A loues me better than a thousand Spencers.

Qu.

A boye, thou art deceiude at least in this, To thinke that we can yet be tun'd together, No, no, we warre too farre, vnkinde Valoys, Vnhappie Isabell, when Fraunce reiects, Whether, O whether doost thou bend thy steps.

Enter sir Iohn of Henolt.

S. Ioh.

Madam, what cheere?

Qu.

A good sir Iohn of Henolt, Neuer so cheereles, nor so farre distrest.

S. Ioh.

I heare sweete lady of the kings vnkindenes, But droope not madam, noble mindes contemne Despaire: will your grace with me to Henolt? And there stay times aduantage with your sonne, How say you my Lord, will you go with your friends, And shake off all our fortunes equallie.

Prin.

So pleaseth the Queene my mother, me it likes, The king of England, nor the court of Fraunce, Shall haue me from my gratious mothers side, Till I be strong enough to breake a staffe, And then haue at the proudest Spencers head.

Sir Iohn.

Well said my lord.

Qu.

Oh my sweet hart, how do I mone thy wrongs? Yet triumphe in the hope of thee my ioye, Ah sweete sir Iohn, euen to the vtmost 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 and Mortimer.

Edm.

Madam, long may you liue, Much happier then your friends in England do.

Qu.

Lord Edmund and lord Mortimer aliue, Welcome to Fraunce: the newes was heere my lord, That you were dead, or very neare your death.

Mor. iu.

Lady, the last was truest of the twaine, But Mortimer reserude for better hap, Hath shaken off the thraldome of the tower, And liues t'aduance your standard good my lord.

Prin.

How meane you, and the king my father liues?

No my lord Mortimer, not I, I trow.

Qu.

Not sonne, why not? I would it were no worse, But gentle lords, friendles we are in Fraunce.

Mor. iu.

Mounsier le Grand, a noble friend of yours, Tould vs at our arriuall all the newes, How hard the nobles, how vnkinde the king Hath shewed himself: but madam, right makes roome, Where weapons want, and though a many friends Are made away, as Warwick, Lancaster, And others of our partie and faction, Yet haue we friends, assure your grace in England, Would cast vp cappes, and clap their hands for ioy, To see vs there appointed for our foes.

Edm.

Would all were well, and Edward well reclaimd, For Englands honor, peace, and quietnes.

Mort.

But by the sword, my lord, it must be deseru'd. The king will nere forsake his flatterers.

S. Ioh.

My Lords of England, sith the vngentle king Of Fraunce refuseth to giue 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?

Prin.

I thinke king Edward will out run vs all.

Qu.

Nay soune, not so, and you must not discourage Your friends that are so forward in your aide.

Edm.

Sir Iohn of Henolt, pardon vs I pray, These comforts that you giue our wofull queene, Binde vs in kindenes all at your commaund.

Qu.

Yea gentle brother, and the God of heauen, Prosper your happie motion good sir Iohn.

Mor. iu.

This noble gentleman forward in armes,

Was borne I see to be our anchor hold, Sir Iohn of Henolt, be it thy renowne, That Englands Queene, and nobles in distresse, Haue beene by thee restored and comforted.

S. Iohn.

Madam along, and you my lord with me, That Englands peeres may Henolts welcome see.

Enter the king, Matr. the two Spencers, with others.

Edw.

Thus after many threats of wrathfull warre, Triumpheth Englands Edward with his friends, And triumph Edward with his friends vncontrould, My lord of Gloster, do you heare the newes?

Spen. iu.

What newes my lord?

Edw.

Why man, they say there is great execution Done through the realme, my lord of Arundell You haue the note, haue you not?

Matr.

From the lieutenant of the tower my lord.

Edw.

I pray let vs see it, what haue we there? Read it Spencer.

Spencer reads their names.

Why so, they barkt a pace a month a goe, Now on my life, theile neither barke nor bite. Now sirs, the newes from Fraunce, Gloster I trowe, The lords of Fraunce loue Englands gold so well, As Isabell gets no aide from thence. What now remaines, haue you proclaimed, my lord, Reward for them can bring in Mortimer?

Spen. iu.

My lord, we haue, and if he be in England, A will be had ere long I doubt it not.

Edw.

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 Lewne.

Edward.

Reade.

Spencer reades the letter.

My dutie to your honor promised, &c. I haue accor∣ding to instructions 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 Iohn of Henolt, brother to the Mar∣quesse, into Flaunders: with them are gone lord Ed∣mund, and the lord Mortimer, hauing in their company diuers of your nation, and others, and as constant re∣port goeth, they intend to giue king Edward battell in England, sooner then he can looke for them: this is all the newes of import.

Your honors in all seruice,Lewne.

Edw.

A villaines, hath that Mortimer escapt? With him is Edmund gone associate? And will sir Iohn 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 greeues me but my little boye, Is thus misled to countenance their ils, Come friends to Bristow, there to make vs strong, And windes as equall be to bring them in, As you iniurious were to beare them foorth.

Enter the Queene, her sonne, Edmund, Mor∣timer, and sir Iohn.

Qu.

Now lords, our louing friends and countrimen,

Welcome to England all with prosperous windes, Our kindest friends in Belgia haue we left, To cope with friends at home: a heauie case, When force to force is knit and sword and gleaue, In ciuill broiles makes kin and country men, Slaughter themselues in others and their sides With their owne weapons gorde, but whats the helpe? Misgouerned 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 ouerflow with blood, Of thine own people patrō shouldst thou be, but thou.

Mor. iu.

Nay madam, if you be a warriar, Ye must not grow so passionate in speeches: Lords, sith that we are by sufferance of heauen, Arriude and armde in this princes right, Heere for our countries cause sweare we to him All homage, fealtie and forwardnes, And for the open wronges and iniuries Edward hath done to vs, his Queene and land, We come in armes to wrecke it with the swords: That Englands queene in peace may reposesse Her dignities and honors, and withall We may remooue these flatterers from the king, That hauocks Englands wealth and treasurie.

S. Io.

Sound trūpets my lord & forward let vs martch, Edward will thinke we come to flatter him.

Edm.

I would he neuer had bin flattered more.

Enter the King, Baldock, and Spencer the sonne, flying about the stage.

Spe.

Fly, fly, my Lord, the Queene is ouerstrong. Her friends doe multiply and yours doe fayle, Shape we our course to Ireland there to breath.

Edw.

What, was I borne to flye and runne away, And leaue the Mortimers conquerers behind? Giue me my horse and lets r'enforce our troupes, And in this bed of honor die with fame.

Bal.

O no my lord, this princely resolution Fits not the time, away, we are pursu'd.

Edmund alone with a sword and target.

Edm.

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 soueraigne with thy sword? Vilde wretch, and why hast thou of all vnkinde, Borne armes against thy brother and thy king? Raigne showers of vengeance on my cursed head Thou God, to whom in iustice it belongs, To punish this vnnaturall reuolt: 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 loue forsooth: Fie on that loue 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 Iohn of Henolt.

Qu.

Succesfull battells giues the God of kings, To them that fight in right and feare his wrath: Since then succesfully we haue preuayled, Thankes be heauens great architect and you,

Ere farther we proceede my noble lordes, We heere create our welbeloued sonne, Of loue and care vnto his royall person, Lord warden of the realme, and sith the fates Haue made his father so infortunate, Deale you my lords in this, my louing lords, As to your wisdomes fittest seemes in all.

Edm.

Madam, without offence if I may aske, How will you deale with Edward in his fall?

Prince.

Tell me good vnckle, what Edward doe you meane?

Edm.

Nephew, your father, I dare not call him king.

Mor.

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, Madam, tis good to looke to him betimes.

Qu.

My lord, the Maior of Bristow knows our mind.

Mor.

Yea madam, and they scape not easilie, That fled the feeld.

Qu.

Baldock is with the king, A goodly chauncelor, is he not my lord?

S. Ioh.

So are the Spencers, the father and the sonne.

Edm.

This Edward is the ruine of the realme.

Enter Rice ap Howell, and the Maior of Bristow, with Spencer the father.

Rice.

God saue Queene Isabell, & her princely sonne, Madam, the Maior and Citizens of Bristow, In signe of loue 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, Reueld in Englands wealth and treasurie.

Qu.

We thanke you all.

Mor. iu.

Your louing care in this, Deserueth princelie fauors 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.

Mort. iu.

Some whirle winde fetche them backe, or sincke them all: They shalbe started thence I doubt it not.

Prin.

Shall I not see the king my father yet?

Edmund.

Vnhappies Edward, chaste from Englands bounds.

S. Ioh.

Madam, what resteth, why stand ye in a muse?

Qu.

I rue my lords ill fortune, but alas, Care of my countrie cald me to this warre.

Mort.

Madam, haue done with care & sad complaine, Your king hath wrongd your countrie and himselfe, And we must seeke to right it as we may, Meane while, haue hence this rebell to the blocke, Your lordship cannot priuiledge your head.

Spen. pa.

Rebell is he that fights against his prince, So fought not they that fought in Edwards right.

Mort.

Take him away, he prates, you Rice ap howell, Shall do good seruice to her Maiestie, Being of countenance in your countrey here, To follow these rebellious runnagates, We in meane while madam, must take aduise, How Baldocke, Spencer, and their complices, May in their fall be followed to their end.

Exeunt omnes.

Enter the Abbot, Monkes, Edward, Spencer, and Baldocke.

Abbot.

Haue you no doubt my Lorde, haue you no feare, As silent and as carefull will we be, To keepe your royall person safe with vs, Free from suspect, and fell inuasion Of such as haue your maiestie in chase, Your selfe, and those your chosen companie, As daunger of this stormie time requires.

Edwa.

Father, thy face should harbor no deceit, O hadst thou euer 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 Haue 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 contemplatiue is heauen, O that I might this life in quiet lead, But we alas are chaste, and you my friends, Your liues and my dishonor they pursue Yet gentle monkes, for treasure, golde nor fee, Do you betray vs and our companie.

Monks.

Your grace may sit secure, if none but wee doe wot of your abode.

Spen.

Not one aliue, but shrewdly I suspect, A gloomie fellow in a meade belowe, A gaue a long looke after vs my lord,

And all the land I know is vp in armes, Armes that pursue our liues with deadly hate.

Bald.

We were imbarkt for Ireland, wretched we, With awkward windes, and sore tempests driuen To fall on shoare, and here to pine in feare Of Mortimer and his confederates.

Edw.

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 neuer open these eyes againe, Neuer againe lift vp this drooping head, O neuer more lift vp this dying hart!

Spen. son.

Looke vp my lord. Baldock, this drowsines Betides no good, here euen we are betraied.

Enter with Welch hookes, Rice vp Howell, a Mower, and the Earle of Leicester.

Mower.

Vpon my life, those be the men ye see

Rice.

Fellow enough, my lord I pray be short, A faire commission warrants what we do.

Lei.

The Queenes commission, vrgd by Mortimer, What cannot gallant Mortimer with the Queene? Alas, see where he sits, and hopes vnseene, T'escape their hands that seeke to reaue his life: Too true it is, quem dies vidit veniens superbum, Hunc dies vidit fugiens iacentem. But Leister leaue 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?

Edw.

O day! the last of all my blisse on earth; Center of all misfortune. O my starres! Why do you lowre vnkindly on a king? Comes Leister then in Isabellas name, To take my life, my companie from me? Here man, rip vp this panting brest of mine, And take my heart, in reskew of my friends.

Rice.

Away with them.

Spen. iu.

It may be come thee yet, To let vs take our farewell of his grace.

Abb.

My heart with pittie earnes to see this sight, A king to beare these words and proud commaunds.

Edw.

Spencer, a sweet Spencer, thus then must we part.

Spen. iu.

We must my lord, so will the angry heauens.

Edw.

Nay so will hell, and cruell Mortimer, The gentle heauens haue not to do in this.

Bald.

My lord, it is in vaine to greeue or storme, Here humblie of your grace we take our leaues, Our lots are cast, I feare me so is thine.

Edwa.

In heauen wee may, in earth neuer shall wee meete, And Leister say, what shall become of vs?

Leist.

Your maiestie must go to Killingworth.

Edw.

Must! tis somwhat hard, when kings must go.

Leist.

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.

Edw.

A litter hast thou, lay me in a hearse, And to the gates of hell conuay 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 vnder a tyrants sword.

Rice.

My lord, be going, care not for these, For we shall see them shorter by the heads.

Edw.

Well, that shalbe, shalbe: part we must, Sweete Spencer, gentle Baldocke, part we must, Hence fained weeds, vnfained are my woes, Father, farewell: Leister, thou staist for me, And go I must, life farewell with my friends.

Exeunt Edward and Leicester.

Spen. iu.

O is he gone! is noble Edward gone, Parted from hence, neuer to see vs more, Rent sphere of heauen, and fier forsake thy orbe, Earth melt to ayre, gone is my soueraigne, Gone, gone alas, neuer to make returne.

Bald.

Spencer, I see our soules are fleeted hence, We are depriude the sun-shine of our life, Make for a new life man, throw vp thy eyes, And hart and hand to heauens immortall throne, Pay natures debt with cheerefull countenance, Reduce we all our lessons vnto this, To die sweet Spencer, therefore liue wee all, Spencer, all liue 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, haue 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.

Enter the king, Leicester, with a Bishop for the crowne.

Lei.

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 neceissitie.

Edw.

Leister, if gentle words might comfort me, Thy speeches long agoe had easde my sorrowes, For kinde and louing hast thou alwaies beene: The greefes of priuate men are soone allayde, But not of kings, the forrest Deare being strucke Runnes to an herbe that closeth vp the wounds, But when the imperiall Lions flesh is gorde, He rends and teares it with his wrathfull pawe, Highly scorning, that the lowly earth Should drinke his bloud, mounts vp into the ayre, And so it fares with me, whose dauntlesse minde The ambitious Mortimer would seeke to curbe, And that vnnaturall 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 vp to heauen, To plaine me to the gods against them both. But when I call to minde I am a king, Me thinkes I should reuenge me of the wronges, That Mortimer and Isabell haue 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 vnconstant Queene, Who spots my nuptiall bed with infamie, Whilst I am lodgd within this caue 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 vsurping Mortimer a king?

Bish.

Your grace mistakes, it is for Englands good, And princely Edwards right we craue the crowne.

Edw.

No, tis for Mortimer, not Edwards head, For hees a lambe, encompassed by Woolues, Which in a moment will abridge his life: But if proud Mortimer do weare this crowne, Heauens 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 Vines be perished, But Edwards name suruiues, though Edward dies.

Lei.

My lord, why waste you thus the time away, They stay your answer, will you yeeld your crowne?

Edw.

Ah Leister, way, how hardly I can brooke To loose my crowne and kingdome, without cause, To giue ambitious Mortimer my right, That like a mountaine ouerwhelmes my blisse. In which extreame my minde here murthered is: But what the heauens 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 vpon this glittering crowne, So shall my eyes receiue their last content, My head, the latest honor dew to it, And ioyntly both yeeld vp their wished right. Continue euer thou celestiall sunne, Let neuer 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, In humaine creatures, nurst with Tigers milke, Why gape you for your soueraignes ouerthrow? 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 vpon my head, And therefore let me weare it yet a while.

Tru.

My Lorde, the parlement must haue present newes, And therefore say, will you resigne or no.

The king rageth.

Edw.

Ile not resigne, but whilst I liue, Traitors be gon, and ioine you with Mortimer, Elect, conspire, install, do what you will, Their bloud and yours shall seale these treacheries.

Bish.

This answer weele returne, and so farewell.

Leist.

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 haue no power to speake.

Lei.

My lord, the king is willing to resigne.

Bish.

If he be not, let him choose.

Edw.

O would I might, but heauens & earth conspire

To make me miserable: heere receiue my crowne, Receiue 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 mooude, pitie you me? Then send for vnrelenting Mortimer And Isabell, whose eyes beene 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 heauen, Make me despise this transitorie pompe, And sit for aye inthronized in heauen, Come death, and with thy fingers close my eyes, Or if I liue, let me forget my selfe.

Enter Bartley.

Bartley.

My lorde.

Edw.

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 iawes, This his imbrasements, beare this to the queene, Wet with my teares, and dried againe with sighes, If with the sight thereof she be not mooued, Returne it backe and dip it in my bloud, Commend me to my sonne, and bid him rule Better then I, yet how haue I transgrest, Vnlesse it be with too much clemencie?

Tru.

And thus, most humbly do we take our leaue.

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.

Leist.

An other poast, what newes bringes he?

Edw.

Such newes as I expect, come Bartley, come, And tell thy message to my naked brest.

Bart.

My lord, thinke not a thought so villanous Can harbor in a man of noble birth. To do your highnes seruice and deuoire, And saue you from your foes, Bartley would die.

Leist.

My lorde, the counsell of the Queene com∣maunds, That I resigne my charge.

Edw.

And who must keepe mee now, must you my lorde?

Bart.

I, my most gratious lord, so tis decreed.

Edw.

By Mortimer, whose name is written here, Well may I rent his name, that rends my hart, This poore reuenge hath something easd my minde, So may his limmes be torne, as is this paper, Heare me immortall loue, and graunt it too.

Bart.

Your grace must hence with mee to Bartley straight.

Edw.

Whether you will, all places are alike, And euery earth is fit for buriall.

Leist.

Fauor him my lord, as much as lieth in you.

Bart.

Euen so betide my soule as I vse him.

Edw.

Mine enemie hath pitied my estate, And thats the cause that I am now remooude.

Bartley.

And thinkes your grace that Bartley will bee cruell?

Edw.

I know not, but of this am I assured, That death ends all, and I can die but once, Leicester, farewell.

Leicester.

Not yet my lorde, ile beare you on your waye.

Exeunt omnes.

Enter Mortimer, and Queene Isabell.

Mor. iu.

Faire Isabell, now haue we our desire, The proud corrupters of the light-brainde king, Haue done their homage to the lostie gallowes, And he himselfe lies in captiuitie, 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 flip will seaze vpon vs both, And gripe the sorer being gript himselfe, Thinke therefore madam that imports as much, To erect your sonne withall the speed we may, And that I be protector ouer him, For our behoofe will beare the greater sway When as a kings name shall be vnder writ.

Qu.

Sweet Mortimer, the life of Isabell, Be thou perswaded, that I loue 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.

Mort. iu.

First would I heare newes that hee were deposde, And then let me alone to handle him.

Enter Messenger.

Mor. iu.

Letters, from whence?

Messen.

From Killing worth my lorde.

Qu.

How fares my lord the king?

Messen.

In health madam, but full of pensiuenes.

Queene.

Alas poore soule, would I could ease his greefe, Thankes gentle Winchester, sirra, be gon.

Winchester.

The king hath willingly resignde his crowne.

Qu.

O happie newes, send for the prince my sonne.

Bish.

Further, or this letter was sealed, Lord Bartley came, So that he now is gone from Killingworth, And we haue 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.

Qu.

Then let some other be his guardian.

Mor. iu.

Let me alone, here is the priuie seale, Whose there, call hither Gurney and Matreuis, To dash the heauie headed Edmunds drift, Bartley shall be dischargd, the king remooude, And none but we shall know where he lieth.

Qu.

But Mortimer, as long as he suruiues What safetie rests for vs, or for my sonne?

Mort. iu.

Speake, shall he presently be dispatch'd and die?

Queene.

I would hee were, so it were not by my meanes.

Enter Matreuis and Guruey.

Mortim. iu.

Inough Matreuis, write a letter pre∣sently Vnto 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.

Matr.

It shall be done my lord.

Mort. iu.

Gurney.

Gurn.

My Lorde.

Mort. iu.

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 giue him kinde word, nor good looke.

Gurn.

I warrant you my lord.

Mort. iu.

And this aboue the rest, because we heare That Edmund casts to worke his libertie, Remooue him still from place to place by night, And 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.

Matre.

Feare not my Lord, weele do as you com∣maund.

Mor. iu.

So now away, post thither wards amaine.

Qu.

Whither goes this letter, to my lord the king? Commend me humblie to his Maiestie, 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 loue.

Matre.

I will madam.

Exeunt Matreuis and Gurney.

Manent Isabell and Mortimer.

Enter the yong Prince, and the Earle of Kent talking with him.

Mor. iu.

Finely dissembled, do so still sweet Queene, Heere comes the yong prince, with the Earle of Kent.

Qu.

Some thing he whispers in his childish eares.

Mort. iu.

If he haue such accesse vnto the prince, Our plots and stratagems will soone be dasht.

Queen.

Vse Edmund friendly, as if all were well.

Mor. iu.

How fares my honorable lord of Kent?

Edmun.

In health sweete Mortimer, how fares your grace.

Queene.

Well, if my Lorde your brother were en∣largde.

Edm.

I heare of late he hath deposde himselfe.

Queen.

The more my greefe.

Mortim. iu.

And mine.

Edmun.

Ah they do dissemble.

Queen.

Sweete sonne come hither, I must talke with thee.

Mortim. iu.

Thou being his vnckle, and the next of bloud, Doe looke to be protector ouer the prince.

Edm.

Not I my lord: who should protect the sonne, But she that gaue him life, I meane the Queene?

Prin.

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.

Prin.

Let me but see him first, and then I will.

Edmund.

I do sweete Nephew.

Quee.

Brother, you know it is impossible.

Prince.

Why, is he dead?

Queen.

No, God forbid.

Edmun.

I would these wordes proceeded from your heart.

Mort. iu.

Inconstant Edmund, doost thou fauor him, That wast a cause of his imprisonment?

Edm.

The more cause haue I now to make amends.

Mort. iu.

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.

Queen.

Come sonne, and go with this gentle Lorde and me.

Prin.

With you I will, but not with Mortimer.

Mort. iu.

Why yongling, sodainst thou so of Mortimer? Then I will carrie thee by force away.

Prin.

Helpe vnckle Kent, Mortimer will wrong me.

Quee.

Brother Edmund, striue not, we are his friends, Isabell is neerer then the earle of Kent.

Edm.

Sister, Edward is my charge, redeeme him.

Queen.

Edward is my sonne, and I will keepe him.

Edmu.

Mortimer shall know that he hath wrongd mee. Hence will I haste to Killingworth castle,

And rescue aged Edward from his foes, To be reuengde on Mortimer and thee.

Exeunt omnes.

Enter Matreuis and Gurney with the king.

Matr.

My lord, be not pensiue, we are your friends, Men are ordaind to liue in miserie, Therefore come, dalliance dangereth our liues.

Edw.

Friends, whither must vnhappie 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 serue, vnbowell straight this brest, And giue my heart to Isabell and him, It is the chiefest marke they leuell at.

Gurney.

Not so my liege, the Queene hath giuen this charge, To keepe your grace in safetie, Your passions make your dolours to increase.

Edw.

This vsage 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 staru'd for want of sustenance, My daily diet, is heart breaking sobs, That almost rents the closet of my heart, Thus liues old Edward not relieu'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.

Matr.

Heeres channell water, as our charge is giuen, Sit downe, for weele be Barbars to your grace.

Edw.

Traitors away, what will you murther me, Or choake your soueraigne with puddle water?

Gurn.

No, but wash your face, and shaue away your beard, Least you be knowne, and so be rescued.

Matr.

Why striue you thus, your labour is in vaine?

Edward.

The Wrenne may striue against the Lions strength. But all in vaine, so vainely do I striue, To seeke for mercie at a tyrants hand.

They wash him with puddle water, and shaue his beard away.

Immortall powers, that knowes the painfull cares, That waites vpon my poore distressed soule, O leuell all your lookes vpon these daring men, That wronges their liege and soueraigne, Englands king, O Gaueston, it is for thee that I am wrongd, For me, both thou, and both the Spencers died, And for your sakes, a thousand wronges ile take, The Spencers ghostes, where euer they remaine, Wish well to mine, then tush for them ile die.

Matr.

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.

Gurn.

How now, who comes there?

Matr.

Guarde the king sure, it is the earle of Kent.

Edw.

O gentle brother, helpe to rescue me.

Matr.

Keepe them a sunder, thrust in the king.

Edm.

Souldiers, let me but talke to him one worde.

Gur.

Lay hands vpon the earle for this assault.

Edmu.

Lay downe your weapons, traitors yeeld the king.

Matr.

Edmund, yeeld thou thy self, or thou shalt die.

Edmu.

Base villaines, wherefore doe you gripe mee thus?

Gurney.

Binde him, and so conuey him to the court.

Edm.

Where is the court but heere, heere is the king, And I will visit him, why stay you me?

Matr.

The court is where lord Mortimer remaines, Thither shall your honour go, and so farewell.

Exeunt Matr. and Gurney, with the king. Manent Edmund and the souldiers.

Edm.

O miserable is that commonweale, where lords Keepe courts, and kings are lockt in prison!

Sould.

Wherefore stay we? on sirs to the court.

Edm.

I, load me whether you will, euen to my death, Seeing that my brother cannot be releast.

Exeunt omnes.

Enter Mortimer alone.

Mort. iu.

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 saue 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. Vnpointed as it is, thus shall it goe, That being dead, if it chaunce to be found, Matreuis 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 conueie 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, art thou as resolute as thou wast?

Light.

What else my lord? and farre more resolute.

Mort. iu.

And hast thou cast how to accomplish it?

Light.

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

Mortim. iu.

But at his lookes Lightborne thou wilt relent.

Light.

Relent, ha, ha, I vse much to relent.

Mort. iu.

Well, do it brauely, and be secret.

Light.

You shall not need to giue instructions, Tis not the first time I haue 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 siluer downe, But yet I haue a brauer way then these.

Mort. iu.

Whats that?

Light.

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

Mort. iu.

I care not how it is, so it be not spide, Deliuer this to Gurney and Matrenis, At euery ten miles end thou hast a horse. Take this, away, and neuer see me more.

Lightborne.

No.

Mort. iu.

No, vnlesse thou bring me newes of Ed∣wards death.

Light.

That will I quicklie do, farewell my lord.

Mor.

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 lou'd, let me be feard, And when I frowne, make all the court looke pale, I view the prince with Aristorchus eyes, Whose lookes were as a breeching to a boye, They thrust vpon me the Protectorship, And sue to me for that that I desire, While at the councell table, graue enough, And not vnlike a bashfull paretaine, First I complaine of imbecilitie, Saying it is, onus quam grauissimum, Till being interrupted by my friends, Suscepi that prouinciam 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 vs, Mine enemies will I plague, my friends aduance, And what I list commaund, who dare controwle,

Maior sum quam cui possit fortuna 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, Bishop, Champion, Nobles, Queene.

Bish.

Long liue king Edward, by the grace of God King of England, and lorde of Ireland.

Cham.

If any Christian, Heathen, Turke, or Iew, Dares but affirme, that Edwards not true king. And will auouche his saying with the sworde, I am the Champion that will combate him.

Mort. iu.

None comes, sound trumpets.

King.

Champion, heeres to thee.

Qu.

Lord Mortimer, now take him to your charge.

Enter Souldiers with the Earle of Kent prisoner.

Mor. iu.

What traitor haue wee there with blades and billes?

Sould.

Edmund the Earle of Kent.

King.

What hath he done?

Sould.

A would haue taken the king away perforce, As we were bringing him to Killingworth.

Mortimer. iu.

Did you attempt his rescue, Edmund speake?

Edm.

Mortimer, I did, he is our king, And thou compelst this prince to weare the crowne.

Mort. iu.

Strike off his head, he shall haue marshall lawe.

Edm.

Strike of my head, base traitor I defie thee.

King.

My lord, he is my vnckle, and shall liue.

Mor. iu.

My lord, he is your enemie, and shall die.

Edmund.

Staie villaines.

King.

Sweete mother, if I cannot pardon him, Intreate my lord Protector for his life.

Qu.

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 vnckle liue, I will requite it when I come to age.

Mort. iu.

Tis for your highnesse good, and for the realmes, How often shall I bid you beare him hence?

Edm.

Art thou king, must I die at thy commaund?

Mort. iu.

At our commaund, once more away with him.

Edm.

Let me but stay and speake, I will not go, Either my brother or his sonne is king, And none of both, then 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 Vnckle shall be murthered thus?

Queen.

Feare not sweete boye, ile garde thee from thy foes, Had Edmund liu'de, he would haue sought thy death, Come sonne, weele ride a hunting in the parke.

King.

And shall my Vnckle Edmund ride with vs?

Queene.

He is a traitor, thinke not on him, come.

Exeunt omnes.

Enter Matr. and Gurney.

Matr.

Gurney, I wonder the king dies not, Being in a vault vp 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 vp so tenderlie.

Gurn.

And so do I, Matreuis: yesternight I opened but the doore to throw him meate, And I was almost stifeled with the sauor.

Matr.

He hath a body able to endure, More then we can enflict, and therefore now, Let vs assaile his minde another while.

Gurn.

Send for him out thence, and I will anger him.

Matr.

But stay, whose this?

Enter Lightborne.

Light.

My lord protector greetes you.

Gurn.

Whats heere? I know not how to conster it.

Matr.

Gurney, it was left vnpointed for the nonce, Edwardum occidere nolite timere, Thats his meaning.

Light.

Know you this token, I must haue the king?

Matr.

I stay a while, thou shalt haue answer straight. This villain's sent to make away the king.

Gurney.

I thought as much.

Matr.

And when the murders done, See how he must be handled for his labour, Pereat iste: let him haue the king, What else, heere is the keyes, this is the lake, Doe as you are commaunded by my lord.

Light.

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 haue a fier, And get me a spit, and let it be red hote.

Matre.

Very well.

Gurn.

Neede you any thing besides?

Light.

What else, a table and a fetherbed.

Gurn.

Thats all.

Light.

I, I, so when I call you, bring it in.

Matre.

Feare not you that.

Gurn.

Heeres a light to go into the dungeon.

Lightbor.

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.

VVhose there, what light is that, where∣fore comes thou?

Light.

To comfort you, and bring you ioyfull newes.

Edward.

Small comfort findes poore Edward in thy lookes, Villaine, I know thou comst to murther me.

Light.

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 vsed, For she relents at this your miserie. And what eyes can refraine from shedding teares, To see a king in this most pittious state?

Edw.

VVeepst thou already, list a while to me, And then thy heart, were it as Gurneys is, Or as Matreuis, hewne from the Caucasus, Yet will it melt, ere I haue done my tale, This dungeon where they keepe me, is the sincke, Wherein the filthe of all the castell falles.

Light.

O villaines!

Edw.

And there in mire and puddle haue I stood, This ten dayes space, and least that I should sleepe, One plaies continually vpon a Drum, They giue 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 haue limmes or no, I know not, O would my bloud dropt out from euery vaine, As doth this water from my tattered robes: Tell Isabell the Queene, I lookt not thus, VVhen for her sake I ran at tilt in Fraunce, And there vnhorste the duke of Cleremont.

Light.

O speake no more my lorde, this breakes my heart. Lie on this bed, and rest your selfe a while,

Edw.

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 and euen then when I shall lose my life, My minde may be more stedfast on my God.

Light.

VVhat meanes your highnesse to mistrust me thus?

Edwa.

What meanes thou to dissemble with me thus?

Light.

These handes were neuer stainde with inno∣cent bloud, Nor shall they now be tainted with a kings.

Edward.

Forgiue my thought, for hauing such a thought, One iewell haue I left, receiue thou this, Still feare I, and I know not whats the cause, But euerie iointe shakes as I giue it thee: O if thou harborst murther in thy hart, Let this gift change thy minde, and saue 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 aliue?

Light.

Your ouer watchde my lord, lie downe and rest.

Edw.

But that greefe keepes me waking, I shoulde sleepe, For not these ten daies haue these eye lids closd, Now as I speake they fall, and yet with feare Open againe, O wherefore sits thou heare?

Light.

If you mistrust me, ile be gon my lord.

Edw.

No, no, for if thou meanst to murther me, Thou wilt returne againe, and therefore stay.

Light.

He sleepes.

Edw.

O let me not die, yet stay, O stay a while.

Light.

How now my Lorde.

Edw.

Something still busseth in mine eares, And tels me, if I sleepe I neuer wake, This feare is that which makes me tremble thus, And therefore tell me, wherefore art thou come?

Light.

To rid thee of thy life, Matreuis come,

Edw.

I am too weake and feeble to resist, Assist me sweete God, and receiue my soule.

Light.

Runne for the table.

Edw.

O spare me, or dispatche me in a trice.

Light.

So, lay the table downe, and stampe his body. But not too hard, least that you bruse his body.

Matreuis.

I feare mee that this crie will raise the towne, And therefore let vs take horse and away.

Light.

Tell me sirs, was it not braue lie done?

Gurn.

Excellent well, take this for thy rewarde,

Then Gurney stabs Lightborne.

Come let vs cast the body in the more, And beare the kings to Mortimer our lord, away.

Exeunt omnes.

Enter Mortimer and Matreuis.

Mortim. iu.

Ist done, Matreuis, and the murtherer dead?

Matr.

I my good Lord, I would it were vndone.

Mort. iu.

Matreuis, 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.

Matr.

Gurney my lord is fled, and will I feare, Betray vs both, therefore let me slie.

Mort. iu.

Flie to the Sauages.

Matr.

I humblie thanke your honour.

Mor. iu.

As for my selfe, I stand as Ioues 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.

Queen.

A Mortimer, the king my sonne hath news, His fathers dead, and we haue murdered him.

Mor. iu.

What if he haue? the king is yet a childe.

Queene.

I, I, but he teares his haire, and wrings his handes, And vowes to be reuengd vpon vs both, Into the councell chamber he is gone, To craue 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.

Lords.

Feare not my lord, know that you are a king.

King.

Villaine.

Mort. iu.

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.

Qu.

Weepe not sweete sonne.

King.

Forbid not me to weepe, he was my father, And had you lou'de him halfe so well as I, You could not beare his death thus patiently, But you I feare, conspirde with Mortimer.

Lords.

Why speake you not vnto my lord the king?

Mor. iu.

Because I thinke scorne to be accusde,

Who is the man dare say I murderedd him?

King.

Traitor, in me my louing father speakes, And plainely saith, twas thou that murdredst him.

Mort. iu.

But hath your grace no other proofe then this?

King.

Yes, if this be the hand of Mortimer.

Mortim. iu.

False Gurney hath betraide me and him∣selfe.

Queen.

I feard as much, murther cannot be hid.

Mort. iu.

Tis my hand, what gather you by this.

King.

That thither thou didst send a murtherer.

Mort. iu.

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 vnto a hurdle, drag him foorth, Hang him I say, and set his quarters vp, But bring his head back presently to me.

Queen.

For my sake sweete sonne pittie Mortimer.

Mort. iu.

Madam, intreat not, I will rather die, Then sue for life vnto a paltrie boye.

King.

Hence with the traitor, with the murderer.

Mort. iu.

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 vp higher, Why should I greeue at my declining fall, Farewell faire Queene, weepe not for Mortimer, That scornes the world, and as a traueller, Goes to discouer countries yet vnknowne.

King.

What, suffer you the traitor to delay?

Queen.

As thou receiuedst 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.

Queen.

I spill his bloud? no.

King.

I madam you, for so the rumor runnes.

Queen.

That rumor is vntrue, for louing thee, Is this report raisde on poore Isabell.

King.

I doe not thinke her so vnnaturall.

Lords.

My lord, I feare me it will prooue 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.

Qu

Nay, to my death, for too long haue I liued, 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.

Queen.

Shall I not moorne for my beloued lord? And with the rest accompanie him to his graue.

Lords.

Thus madam, tis the kings will you shall hence.

Quee.

He hath forgotten me, stay, I am his mother.

Lords.

That bootes not, therefore gentle madam goe.

Queen.

Then come sweete death, and rid me of this greefe.

Lords.

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 haue rulde thee then, as I do now, Thou hadst not hatcht this monstrous treacherie? Heere comes the hearse, helpe me to moorne my lords, Sweete father heere, vnto thy murdered ghost, I offer vp this wicked traitors head, And let these teares distilling from mine eyes, Be witnesse of my greefe and innocencie.

FINIS.