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Enter Edmond.
Edm.
Mortimer tis I, but hath thy potion wrought so happily?
Mor.
It hath my Lord, the Warders all asleepe,
I thanke them, gave me leave to passe in peace.
But hath your Grace got shipping unto France?
Edm.
Feare it not. .mw-parser-output .wst-floatright{float:right;text-indent:0}Exeunt.
Enter the Queene and her sonne.
Ah sweete Sir John, even to the utmost verge
of Europe, or the shore of Tanaise,
Will we with thee to Henolt, so we will,
The Marquesse is a noble Gentleman,
His Grace I dare presume will welcome me,
But who are these?
Enter Edmond and Mortimer.
We will find comfort, mony, men, and friends,
Ere long, to bid the English King abase,
How say young Prince, what thinke you of the match?
Prin.
I thinke King Edward will outrunne us all.
Qu.
Nay Sonne, not so, and you must not discourage
Your friends that are so forward in your aide.
Edm.
Sir John of Henolt, pardon us I pray,
These comforts that you give our wofull Queene,
Bind us in kindenesse all at your command.
Qu.
Yea gentle brother, and the God of Heaven,
Prosper your happy motion good Sir John.
Mor.
This noble Gentleman forward in armes,
Was borne I see to be our Anchor hold,
Sir John of Henolt, be it thy renowne,
That Englands Queene, and Nobles in distresse,
Have beene by thee restor'd and comforted.
S. John.
Madame along, and you my Lord with me,
That Englands Peeres may Henolts welcome see.
Enter the King, Matrevis, the two Spencers, with others.
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-masters
Are not so carelesse of their Kings command.
Enter a Poaste.
Qu.
Now Lords, our loving friends and countrymen,
Welcome to England all with prosperous winds,
Our kindest friends in Belgia have we left
To cope with friends at home: a heavy case,
When force to force is knit, and sword and glave
In civill broiles make kin and countrimen
Slaughter themselves in others, and their sides
With their owne weapons goar'd, but what's the helpe?
Misgoverned Kings are cause of all this wrack,
And Edward thou art one among them all,
Whose loosnesse hath betrayed thy Land to spoyle,
And made the Channell overflow with bloud
Of thine owne people: patron shouldst thou be, but thou.
Mor.
Nay madam, if you be a Warrier,
You must not grow so passionate in speeches.
Lords, sith that we are by sufferance of Heaven,
Arriv'd and armed in this Princes right,
Heere for our Countries cause sweare we to him
All homage, fealty and forwardnesse,
And for the open wrongs and injuries
Edward hath done to us, his Queene and Land,
We come in armes to wrecke it with the sword:
That Englands Queene in peace may reposesse
Her Dignities and honours: and withall
We may remove these flatterers from the King,
That havocks Englands wealth and treasury.
S. Jo.
Sound Trumpets my Lord, and forward let us march
Edward will thinke we come to flatter him.
Edm.
I would he never had beene flattered more.
Enter the King, Baldocke, and Spencer the
sonne, flying about the Stage.
Bald.
O no my Lord, this Princely resolution
Fits not the time, away, we are pursued.
Edmond alone with a Sword and Target.
Mor.
My Lord of Kent, what needes these questions?
Tis not in her controulment, nor in ours,
But as the Realme and Parliament shall please,
So shall your Brother be disposed of.
I like not this relenting moode in Edmond.
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 easily,
That fled the field.
Qu.
Baldocke is with the King.
A goodly Chancellour, is he not my Lord?
S. John.
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.
Your King hath wrong'd your Country and himselfe,
And we must seeke to right it as we may.
Meane while, have hence this Rebell to the block.
Spen pa.
Rebell is he that fights against the Prince,
So fought not they that fought in Edwards right.
Mor.
Take him away, he prates. You Rice ap Howell,
Shall do good service to her Majesty,
Being of countenance in your Country heere,
To follow these rebellious Runagates,
We in meane while Madam, must take advice,
How Baldock, Spencer, and their complices,
May in their fall be followed to their end. Exeunt omnes.
Enter the Abbot, Monkes, Edward, Spencer,
and Baldocke.
Yet gentle Monkes, for Treasure, Gold, nor Fee,
Doe you betray us and our company.
Mon.
Your Grace may sit secure, if none but wee do wot of your abode.
Spen.
Not one alive, but shrewdly I suspect,
A gloomy fellow in a Mead below,
A gave a long looke after us my Lord,
And all the Land I know is up in armes,
Armes that pursue our lives with deadly hate.
Bald.
We were imbark't for Ireland, wretched we,
With aukward winds, and with sore tempests driven
To fall on shore, 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 never ope these eyes againe,
Never againe lift up this drooping head,
O never more lift up this dying heart!
Spen.son.
Looke up my Lord. Baldocke, this drowsinesse
Betides no good, here even we are betrayed.
Enter with Welch hookes, Rice ap Howell, a Mower,
and the Earle of Leicester.
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 unkindly on a King?
Came Leister then in Isabellas name,
To take my life, my company from me?
Heere man rip up this panting breast of mine,
And take my heart in reskew of my friends.
Rice.
Away with them.
Spen.ju.
It may become thee yet,
To let us take our farewell of his Grace.
Abb.
My heart with pitty earnes to see this sight,
A King to beare these words and proud commands.
Edw.
Spencer, ah sweet Spencer, thus then must we part.
Spen.ju.
We must my Lord, so will the angry Heavens.
Edw.
Nay so will Hell, and cruell Mortimer:
The gentle Heavens have not to do in this.
Bald.
My Lord, it is in vaine to grieve or storme,
Heere humbly of your Grace we take our leaves,
Our Lots are cast, I feare me so is thine,
Edw.
In Heaven we may, in earth never shall wee meete,
And Leister say, what shall become of us?
Lei.
Your Majesty must goe to Killingworth.
Edw.
Must! Tis somwhat hard, when Kings must go.
Lei.
Here is a Litter ready for your Grace,
That waites your pleasure, and the day growes old.
Rice.
As good be gone as stay and be benighted.
Edw.
A Litter hast thou, Lay me in a Hearse,
And to the gates of Hell convay me hence,
Let Plutos Bels ring out my fatall knell,
And Hags howle for my death at Charons shore,
For friends hath Edward none, but these, and these,
And these must dye under a Tyrants sword.
Rice.
My Lord be going, care not for these,
For we shall see them shorter by the heads.
Edw.
Well, that shall be, shall be, part we must,
Sweete Spencer, gentle Baldocke, part we must,
Hence fained weedes, unfained are my woes,
Father, farewell: Leister thou staist for me,
And goe I must, Life farewell with my friends. Exeunt Edward and Lancaster.
Spen.
O is he gone! is Noble Edward gone,
Parted from hence, never to see us more!
Rent Sphere of Heaven, and fire forsake thy Orbe,
Earth melt to Aire, gone is my Soveraigne,
Gone, gone alas, never to make returne.
Bald.
Spencer, I see our soules are fleeting hence,
We are depriv'd the sun-shine of our life,
Make for a new life man, throw up thy eyes,
And heart and hand to Heavens immortall Throne,
Pay Natures debt with cheerefull countenance,
Reduce we all our Lessons unto this,
To dye sweet Spencer, therefore live we all,
Spencer, all live to dye, and rise to fall.
Rice.
Come, come, keepe these preachments till you come to the place appointed.
You, & such as you are, have made wise work 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.