Edward II

By Christopher Marlowe.

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Dramatis Personae

King Edward II

Prince Edward, his son, later Edward III

Earl of Kent, brother to King Edward II

Gaveston

Archbishop of Canterbury

Bishop of Coventry

Bishop of Winchester

Warwick

Lancaster

Pembroke

Arundel

Leicester

Berkeley

Mortimer the elder

Mortimer the younger, his nephew

Spenser the elder

Spenser the younger, his son

Baldock

Beaumont

Trussel

Gurney

Matrevis

Lightborn

Sir John of Hainault

Levune

Rice ap Howel

Abbot, Monks, Herald, Lords, Poor Men, James, Mower, Champion, Messengers, Soldiers, and Attendants

Queen Isabella, wife to King Edward II

Niece to King Edward II, daughter of the Duke of Gloucester

Ladies

Edward II

Act I

Scene I

A street in London.

Enter Gaveston, reading a letter.

Gaveston

“My father is deceased! Come, Gaveston,
And share the kingdom with thy dearest friend.”
Ah, words that make me surfeit with delight!
What greater bliss can hap to Gaveston
Than live and be the favourite of a king!
Sweet prince, I come! these, thy amorous lines
Might have enforced me to have swum from France,
And, like Leander, gasped upon the sand,
So thou wouldst smile, and take me in thine arms.
The sight of London to my exiled eyes
Is as Elysium to a new-come soul:
Not that I love the city or the men,
But that it harbours him I hold so dear⁠—
The king, upon whose bosom let me lie,
And with the world be still at enmity.
What need the arctic people love starlight,
To whom the sun shines both by day and night?
Farewell base stooping to the lordly peers!
My knee shall bow to none but to the king.
As for the multitude, that are but sparks,
Raked up in embers of their poverty⁠—
Tanti; I’ll fawn first on the wind,
That glanceth at my lips, and flieth away.
But how now! what are these?

Enter three Poor Men.

Poor Men
Such as desire your worship’s service.

Gaveston
What canst thou do?

First Poor Man
I can ride.

Gaveston
But I have no horse.⁠—What art thou?

Second Poor Man
A traveller.

Gaveston

Let me see; thou wouldst do well
To wait at my trencher, and tell me lies at dinnertime;
And, as I like your discoursing, I’ll have you.⁠—
And what art thou?

Third Poor Man
A soldier, that hath served against the Scot.

Gaveston

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

Third Poor Man

Farewell, and perish by a soldier’s hand,
That wouldst reward them with an hospital!

Gaveston

Aside. Ay, ay, these words of his move me as much
As if a goose should play the porcupine,
And dart her plumes, thinking to pierce my breast.
But yet it is no pain to speak men fair;
I’ll flatter these, and make them live in hope.⁠—

You know that I came lately out of France,
And yet I have not viewed my lord the king:
If I speed well, I’ll entertain you all.

All
We thank your worship.

Gaveston
I have some business. Leave me to myself.

All
We will wait here about the court.

Gaveston

Do. Exeunt Poor Men.
These are not men for me;
I must have wanton poets, pleasant wits,
Musicians, that with touching of a string
May draw the pliant king which way I please:
Music and poetry is his delight;
Therefore I’ll have Italian masks by night,
Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows;
And in the day, when he shall walk abroad,
Like sylvan nymphs my pages shall be clad;
My men, like satyrs grazing on the lawns,
Shall with their goat-feet dance the antic hay;
Sometime a lovely boy in Dian’s shape,
With hair that gilds the water as it glides
Crownets of pearl about his naked arms,
And in his sportful hands an olive-tree,
To hide those parts which men delight to see,
Shall bathe him in a spring; and there, hard by,
One like Actaeon, peeping through the grove,
Shall by the angry goddess be transformed,
And running in the likeness of an hart,
By yelping hounds pulled down, shall seem to die:
Such things as these best please his majesty.⁠—
Here comes my lord the king, and the nobles
From the parliament. I’ll stand aside. Retires.

Enter King Edward, Kent, Lancaster, the Elder Mortimer, the Younger Mortimer, Warwick, Pembroke, and Attendants.

King Edward
Lancaster!

Lancaster
My lord?

Gaveston
Aside. That Earl of Lancaster do I abhor.

King Edward

Will you not grant me this? Aside. In spite of them
I’ll have my will; and these two Mortimers,
That cross me thus, shall know I am displeased.

Elder Mortimer
If you love us, my lord, hate Gaveston.

Gaveston
Aside. That villain Mortimer! I’ll be his death.

Younger Mortimer

Mine uncle here, this earl, and I myself,
Were sworn to your father at his death,
That he should ne’er return into the realm:
And now, my lord, ere I will break my oath,
This sword of mine, that should offend your foes,
Shall sleep within the scabbard at thy need,
And underneath thy banners march who will,
For Mortimer will hang his armour up.

Gaveston
Aside. Mort dieu!

King Edward

Well, Mortimer, I’ll make thee rue these words:
Beseems it thee to contradict thy king?
Frown’st thou thereat, aspiring Lancaster?
The sword shall plane the furrows of thy brows,
And hew these knees that now are grown so stiff.
I will have Gaveston; and you shall know
What danger ’tis to stand against your king.

Gaveston
Aside. Well done, Ned!

Lancaster

My lord, why do you thus incense your peers,
That naturally would love and honour you,
But for that base and obscure Gaveston?
Four earldoms have I, besides Lancaster⁠—
Derby, Salisbury, Lincoln, Leicester;
These will I sell, to give my soldiers pay,
Ere Gaveston shall stay within the realm:
Therefore, if he be come, expel him straight.

Kent

Barons and earls, your pride hath made me mute;
But know I’ll speak, and to the proof, I hope.
I do remember, in my father’s days,
Lord Percy of the North, being highly moved,
Braved Mowbray in presence of the king;
For which, had not his highness loved him well,
He should have lost his head; but with his look
The undaunted spirit of Percy was appeased,
And Mowbray and he were reconciled:
Yet dare you brave the king unto his face.⁠—
Brother, revenge it, and let these their heads
Preach upon poles, for trespass of their tongues.

Warwick
O, our heads!

King Edward
Ay, yours; and therefore I would wish you grant.

Warwick
Bridle thy anger, gentle Mortimer.

Younger Mortimer

I cannot, nor I will not; I must speak.⁠—
Cousin, our hands I hope shall fence our heads,
And strike off his that makes you threaten us.⁠—
Come, uncle, let us leave the brainsick king,
And henceforth parley with our naked swords.

Elder Mortimer
Wiltshire hath men enough to save our heads.

Warwick
All Warwickshire will leave him for my sake.

Lancaster

And northward Lancaster hath many friends.⁠—
Adieu, my lord; and either change your mind,
Or look to see the throne, where you should sit,
To float in blood, and at thy wanton head,
The glozing head of thy base minion thrown.

Exeunt all except King Edward, Kent, Gaveston, and Attendants.

King Edward

I cannot brook these haughty menaces:
Am I a king, and must be overruled?⁠—
Brother, display my ensigns in the field:
I’ll bandy with the barons and the earls,
And either die or live with Gaveston.

Gaveston
I can no longer keep me from my lord. Comes forward.

King Edward

What, Gaveston! welcome! Kiss not my hand:
Embrace me, Gaveston, as I do thee.
Why shouldst thou kneel? know’st thou not who I am?
Thy friend, thyself, another Gaveston:
Not Hylas was more mourned for of Hercules
Than thou hast been of me since thy exile.

Gaveston

And, since I went from hence, no soul in hell
Hath felt more torment than poor Gaveston.

King Edward

I know it.⁠—Brother, welcome home my friend.⁠—
Now let the treacherous Mortimers conspire,
And that high-minded Earl of Lancaster:
I have my wish, in that I joy thy sight;
And sooner shall the sea o’erwhelm my land
Than bear the ship that shall transport thee hence.
I here create thee Lord High-chamberlain,
Chief Secretary to the state and me,
Earl of Cornwall, King and Lord of Man.

Gaveston
My lord, these titles far exceed my worth.

Kent

Brother, the least of these may well suffice
For one of greater birth than Gaveston.

King Edward

Cease, brother, for I cannot brook these words.⁠—
Thy worth, sweet friend, is far above my gifts:
Therefore, to equal it, receive my heart.
If for these dignities thou be envied,
I’ll give thee more; for, but to honour thee,
Is Edward pleased with kingly regiment.
Fear’st thou thy person? thou shalt have a guard:
Wantest thou gold? go to my treasury:
Wouldst thou be loved and feared? receive my seal,
Save or condemn, and in our name command
What so thy mind affects, or fancy likes.

Gaveston

It shall suffice me to enjoy your love;
Which whiles I have, I think myself as great
As Caesar riding in the Roman street,
With captive kings at his triumphant car.

Enter the Bishop of Coventry.

King Edward
Whither goes my Lord of Coventry so fast?

Bishop of Coventry

To celebrate your father’s exequies.
But is that wicked Gaveston returned?

King Edward

Ay, priest, and lives to be revenged on thee,
That wert the only cause of his exile.

Gaveston

’Tis true; and, but for reverence of these robes,
Thou shouldst not plod one foot beyond this place.

Bishop of Coventry

I did no more than I was bound to do:
And, Gaveston, unless thou be reclaimed,
As then I did incense the parliament,
So will I now, and thou shalt back to France.

Gaveston
Saving your reverence, you must pardon me.

King Edward

Throw off his golden mitre, rend his stole,
And in the channel christen him anew.

Kent

Ay, brother, lay not violent hands on him!
For he’ll complain unto the see of Rome.

Gaveston

Let him complain unto the see of hell:
I’ll be revenged on him for my exile.

King Edward

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

Gaveston
He shall to prison, and there die in bolts.

King Edward
Ay, to the Tower, the Fleet, or where thou wilt.

Bishop of Coventry
For this offence be thou accursed of God!

King Edward
Who’s there? Convey this priest to the Tower.

Bishop of Coventry
True, true.

King Edward

But, in the meantime, Gaveston, away,
And take possession of his house and goods.
Come, follow me, and thou shalt have my guard
To see it done, and bring thee safe again.

Gaveston

What should a priest do with so fair a house?
A prison may beseem his holiness.

Exeunt.

Scene II

Westminster.

Enter on the one side the two Mortimers; on the other, Warwick and Lancaster.

Warwick

’Tis true, the bishop is in the Tower,
And goods and body given to Gaveston.

Lancaster

What! will they tyrannise upon the church?
Ah, wicked King! accursed Gaveston!
This ground, which is corrupted with their steps,
Shall be their timeless sepulchre or mine.

Younger Mortimer

Well, let that peevish Frenchman guard him sure;
Unless his breast be sword-proof, he shall die.

Elder Mortimer
How now! why droops the Earl of Lancaster?

Younger Mortimer
Wherefore is Guy of Warwick discontent?

Lancaster
That villain Gaveston is made an earl.

Elder Mortimer
An earl!

Warwick

Ay, and besides Lord-chamberlain of the realm,
And Secretary too, and Lord of Man.

Elder Mortimer
We may not nor we will not suffer this.

Younger Mortimer
Why post we not from hence to levy men?

Lancaster

“My Lord of Cornwall” now at every word;
And happy is the man whom he vouchsafes,
For vailing of his bonnet, one good look.
Thus, arm in arm, the king and he doth march:
Nay, more, the guard upon his lordship waits,
And all the court begins to flatter him.

Warwick

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

Elder Mortimer
Doth no man take exceptions at the slave?

Lancaster
All stomach him, but none dare speak a word.

Younger Mortimer

Ah, that bewrays their baseness, Lancaster!
Were all the earls and barons of my mind,
We’d hale him from the bosom of the king,
And at the court-gate hang the peasant up,
Who, swollen with venom of ambitious pride,
Will be the ruin of the realm and us.

Warwick
Here comes my Lord of Canterbury’s grace.

Lancaster
His countenance bewrays he is displeased.

Enter the Archbishop of Canterbury and an Attendant.

Archbishop of Canterbury

First, were his sacred garments rent and torn;
Then laid they violent hands upon him; next,
Himself imprisoned, and his goods asseized:
This certify the Pope: away, take horse. Exit Attendant.

Lancaster
My lord, will you take arms against the king?

Archbishop of Canterbury

What need I? God himself is up in arms
When violence is offered to the church.

Younger Mortimer

Then will you join with us, that be his peers,
To banish or behead that Gaveston?

Archbishop of Canterbury

What else, my lords? for it concerns me near;
The bishoprick of Coventry is his.

Enter Queen Isabella.

Younger Mortimer
Madam, whither walks your majesty so fast?

Queen Isabella

Unto the forest, gentle Mortimer,
To live in grief and baleful discontent;
For now my lord the king regards me not,
But dotes upon the love of Gaveston:
He claps his cheeks, and hangs about his neck,
Smiles in his face, and whispers in his ears;
And, when I come, he frowns, as who should say,
“Go whither thou wilt, seeing I have Gaveston.”

Elder Mortimer
Is it not strange that he is thus bewitched?

Younger Mortimer

Madam, return unto the court again:
That sly inveigling Frenchman we’ll exile,
Or lose our lives; and yet, ere that day come,
The king shall lose his crown; for we have power,
And courage too, to be revenged at full.

Archbishop of Canterbury
But yet lift not your swords against the king.

Lancaster
No; but we will lift Gaveston from hence.

Warwick
And war must be the means, or he’ll stay still.

Queen Isabella

Then let him stay; for, rather than my lord
Shall be oppressed with civil mutinies,
I will endure a melancholy life,
And let him frolic with his minion.

Archbishop of Canterbury

My lords, to ease all this, but hear me speak:
We and the rest, that are his counsellors,
Will meet, and with a general consent
Confirm his banishment with our hands and seals.

Lancaster
What we confirm the king will frustrate.

Younger Mortimer
Then may we lawfully revolt from him.

Warwick
But say, my lord, where shall this meeting be?

Archbishop of Canterbury
At the New Temple.

Younger Mortimer
Content.

Archbishop of Canterbury

And, in the meantime, I’ll entreat you all
To cross to Lambeth, and there stay with me.

Lancaster
Come, then, let’s away.

Younger Mortimer
Madam, farewell.

Queen Isabella

Farewell, sweet Mortimer, and, for my sake,
Forbear to levy arms against the king.

Younger Mortimer
Ay, if words will serve; if not, I must.

Exeunt.

Scene III

A street in London.

Enter Gaveston and Kent.

Gaveston

Edmund, the mighty prince of Lancaster,
That hath more earldoms than an ass can bear,
And both the Mortimers, two goodly men,
With Guy of Warwick, that redoubted knight,
Are gone towards Lambeth⁠—

Kent
There let them remain.

Exeunt.

Scene IV

The New Temple.

Enter Lancaster, Warwick, Pembroke, the Elder Mortimer, the Younger Mortimer, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and Attendants.

Lancaster

Here is the form of Gaveston’s exile;
May it please your lordship to subscribe your name.

Archbishop of Canterbury
Give me the paper. He subscribes, as the others do after him.

Lancaster
Quick, quick, my lord; I long to write my name.

Warwick
But I long more to see him banished hence.

Younger Mortimer

The name of Mortimer shall fright the king,
Unless he be declined from that base peasant.

Enter King Edward, Gaveston, and Kent.

King Edward

What, are you moved that Gaveston sits here?
It is our pleasure; we will have it so.

Lancaster

Your grace doth well to place him by your side,
For nowhere else the new earl is so safe.

Elder Mortimer

What man of noble birth can brook this sight?
Quam male conveniunt!⁠—
See, what a scornful look the peasant casts!

Pembroke

Can kingly lions fawn on creeping ants?

Warwick

Ignoble vassal, that, like Phaeton,
Aspir’st unto the guidance of the sun!

Younger Mortimer

Their downfall is at hand, their forces down:
We will not thus be faced and over-peered.

King Edward

Lay hands on that traitor Mortimer!

Elder Mortimer

Lay hands on that traitor Gaveston!

Kent

Is this the duty that you owe your king?

Warwick

We know our duties; let him know his peers.

King Edward

Whither will you bear him? stay, or ye shall die.

Elder Mortimer

We are no traitors; therefore threaten not.

Gaveston

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

Younger Mortimer

Thou, villain! wherefore talk’st thou of a king,
That hardly art a gentleman by birth?

King Edward

Were he a peasant, being my minion,
I’ll make the proudest of you stoop to him.

Lancaster

My lord⁠—you may not thus disparage us.⁠—
Away, I say, with hateful Gaveston!

Elder Mortimer
And with the Earl of Kent that favours him.

Attendants remove Gaveston and Kent.

King Edward

Nay, then, lay violent hands upon your king:
Here, Mortimer, sit thou in Edward’s throne;
Warwick and Lancaster, wear you my crown.
Was ever king thus overruled as I?

Lancaster

Learn, then, to rule us better, and the realm.

Younger Mortimer

What we have done, our heart-blood shall maintain.

Warwick

Think you that we can brook this upstart’s pride?

King Edward

Anger and wrathful fury stops my speech.

Archbishop of Canterbury

Why are you not moved? be patient, my lord,
And see what we your counsellors have done.

Younger Mortimer

My lords, now let us all be resolute,
And either have our wills, or lose our lives.

King Edward

Meet you for this, proud over-daring peers!
Ere my sweet Gaveston shall part from me,
This isle shall fleet upon the ocean,
And wander to the unfrequented Inde.

Archbishop of Canterbury

You know that I am legate to the Pope:
On your allegiance to the see of Rome,
Subscribe, as we have done, to his exile.

Younger Mortimer

Curse him, if he refuse; and then may we
Depose him, and elect another king.

King Edward

Ay, there it goes! but yet I will not yield:
Curse me, depose me, do the worst you can.

Lancaster

Then linger not, my lord, but do it straight.

Archbishop of Canterbury

Remember how the bishop was abused:
Either banish him that was the cause thereof,
Or I will presently discharge these lords
Of duty and allegiance due to thee.

King Edward

Aside. It boots me not to threat; I must speak fair:
The legate of the Pope will be obeyed.⁠—

My lord, you shall be Chancellor of the realm;
Thou, Lancaster, High-Admiral of our fleet;
Young Mortimer and his uncle shall be earls;
And you, Lord Warwick, President of the North;
And thou of Wales. If this content you not,
Make several kingdoms of this monarchy,
And share it equally amongst you all,
So I may have some nook or corner left,
To frolic with my dearest Gaveston.

Archbishop of Canterbury

Nothing shall alter us; we are resolved.

Lancaster

Come, come, subscribe.

Younger Mortimer

Why should you love him whom the world hates so?

King Edward

Because he loves me more than all the world.
Ah, none but rude and savage-minded men
Would seek the ruin of my Gaveston!
You that be noble-born should pity him.

Warwick

You that are princely-born should shake him off:
For shame, subscribe, and let the clown depart.

Elder Mortimer

Urge him, my lord.

Archbishop of Canterbury

Are you content to banish him the realm?

King Edward

I see I must, and therefore am content:
Instead of ink, I’ll write it with my tears. Subscribes.

Younger Mortimer
The king is lovesick for his minion.

King Edward
’Tis done: and now, accursed hand, fall off!

Lancaster

Give it me: I’ll have it published in the streets.

Younger Mortimer

I’ll see him presently despatched away.

Archbishop of Canterbury

Now is my heart at ease.

Warwick

And so is mine.

Pembroke

This will be good news to the common sort.

Elder Mortimer
Be it or no, he shall not linger here.

Exeunt all except King Edward.

King Edward

How fast they run to banish him I love!
They would not stir, were it to do me good.
Why should a king be subject to a priest?
Proud Rome, that hatchest such imperial grooms,
With these thy superstitious taper-lights,
Wherewith thy antichristian churches blaze,
I’ll fire thy crazed buildings, and enforce
The papal towers to kiss the lowly ground!
With slaughtered priests make Tiber’s channel swell,
And banks raised higher with their sepulchres!
As for the peers, that back the clergy thus,
If I be king, not one of them shall live.

Reenter Gaveston.

Gaveston

My lord, I hear it whispered everywhere,
That I am banished and must fly the land.

King Edward

’Tis true, sweet Gaveston: O were it false!
The legate of the Pope will have it so,
And thou must hence, or I shall be deposed.
But I will reign to be revenged of them;
And therefore, sweet friend, take it patiently.
Live where thou wilt, I’ll send thee gold enough;
And long thou shalt not stay; or, if thou dost,
I’ll come to thee; my love shall ne’er decline.

Gaveston

Is all my hope turned to this hell of grief?

King Edward

Rend not my heart with thy too-piercing words:
Thou from this land, I from myself am banished.

Gaveston

To go from hence grieves not poor Gaveston;
But to forsake you, in whose gracious looks
The blessedness of Gaveston remains;
For nowhere else seeks he felicity.

King Edward

And only this torments my wretched soul,
That, whether I will or no, thou must depart.
Be governor of Ireland in my stead,
And there abide till fortune call thee home.
Here, take my picture, and let me wear thine:

They exchange pictures.

O, might I keep thee here, as I do this,
Happy were I! but now most miserable.

Gaveston

’Tis something to be pitied of a king.

King Edward

Thou shalt not hence; I’ll hide thee, Gaveston.

Gaveston

I shall be found, and then ’twill grieve me more.

King Edward

Kind words and mutual talk makes our grief greater:
Therefore, with dumb embracement, let us part⁠—
Stay, Gaveston; I cannot leave thee thus.

Gaveston

For every look, my love drops down a tear:
Seeing I must go, do not renew my sorrow.

King Edward

The time is little that thou hast to stay,
And, therefore, give me leave to look my fill.
But, come, sweet friend; I’ll bear thee on thy way.

Gaveston
The peers will frown.

King Edward

I pass not for their anger. Come, let’s go:
O, that we might as well return as go!

Enter Queen Isabella.

Queen Isabella
Whither goes my lord?

King Edward
Fawn not on me, French strumpet; get thee gone!

Queen Isabella
On whom but on my husband should I fawn?

Gaveston

On Mortimer; with whom, ungentle queen⁠—
I judge no more⁠—judge you the rest, my lord.

Queen Isabella

In saying this, thou wrong’st me, Gaveston:
Is’t not enough that thou corrupt’st my lord,
And art a bawd to his affections,
But thou must call mine honour thus in question?

Gaveston
I mean not so; your grace must pardon me.

King Edward

Thou art too familiar with that Mortimer,
And by thy means is Gaveston exiled:
But I would wish thee reconcile the lords,
Or thou shalt ne’er be reconciled to me.

Queen Isabella
Your highness knows, it lies not in my power.

King Edward
Away, then! touch me not.⁠—Come, Gaveston.

Queen Isabella
Villain, ’tis thou that robb’st me of my lord.

Gaveston
Madam, ’tis you that rob me of my lord.

King Edward
Speak not unto her: let her droop and pine.

Queen Isabella

Wherein, my lord, have I deserved these words?
Witness the tears that Isabella sheds,
Witness this heart, that, sighing for thee, breaks,
How dear my lord is to poor Isabel!

King Edward

And witness heaven how dear thou art to me:
There weep; for, till my Gaveston be repealed,
Assure thyself thou com’st not in my sight.

Exeunt King Edward and Gaveston.

Queen Isabella

O miserable and distressed queen!
Would, when I left sweet France, and was embarked,
That charming Circe, walking on the waves,
Had changed my shape! or at the marriage-day
The cup of Hymen had been full of poison!
Or with those arms, that twined about my neck,
I had been stifled, and not lived to see
The king my lord thus to abandon me!
Like frantic Juno, will I fill the earth
With ghastly murmur of my sighs and cries;
For never doted Jove on Ganymede
So much as he on cursed Gaveston:
But that will more exasperate his wrath;
I must entreat him, I must speak him fair,
And be a means to call home Gaveston:
And yet he’ll ever dote on Gaveston;
And so am I forever miserable.

Reenter Lancaster, Warwick, Pembroke, the Elder Mortimer, and the Younger Mortimer.

Lancaster

Look, where the sister of the king of France
Sits wringing of her hands and beats her breast!

Warwick
The king, I fear, hath ill-treated her.

Pembroke
Hard is the heart that injures such a saint.

Younger Mortimer
I know ’tis ’long of Gaveston she weeps.

Elder Mortimer
Why, he is gone.

Younger Mortimer
Madam, how fares your grace?

Queen Isabella

Ah, Mortimer, now breaks the king’s hate forth,
And he confesseth that he loves me not!

Younger Mortimer
Cry quittance, madam, then, and love not him.

Queen Isabella

No, rather will I die a thousand deaths:
And yet I love in vain; he’ll ne’er love me.

Lancaster

Fear ye not, madam; now his minion’s gone,
His wanton humour will be quickly left.

Queen Isabella

O, never, Lancaster! I am enjoined,
To sue unto you all for his repeal:
This wills my lord, and this must I perform,
Or else be banished from his highness’ presence.

Lancaster

For his repeal, madam! he comes not back,
Unless the sea cast up his shipwrecked body.

Warwick

And to behold so sweet a sight as that,
There’s none here but would run his horse to death.

Younger Mortimer
But, madam, would you have us call him home?

Queen Isabella

Ay, Mortimer, for, till he be restored,
The angry king hath banished me the court;
And, therefore, as thou lov’st and tender’st me,
Be thou my advocate unto these peers.

Younger Mortimer
What, would you have me plead for Gaveston?

Elder Mortimer
Plead for him that will, I am resolved.

Lancaster
And so am I, my lord: dissuade the queen.

Queen Isabella

O, Lancaster, let him dissuade the king!
For ’tis against my will he should return.

Warwick
Then speak not for him; let the peasant go.

Queen Isabella
’Tis for myself I speak, and not for him.

Pembroke
No speaking will prevail; and therefore cease.

Younger Mortimer

Fair queen, forbear to angle for the fish
Which, being caught, strikes him that takes it dead;
I mean that vile torpedo, Gaveston,
That now, I hope, floats on the Irish seas.

Queen Isabella

Sweet Mortimer, sit down by me a while,
And I will tell thee reasons of such weight
As thou wilt soon subscribe to his repeal.

Younger Mortimer
It is impossible: but speak your mind.

Queen Isabella
Then, thus;⁠—but none shall hear it but ourselves. Talks to the Younger Mortimer, apart.

Lancaster

My lords, albeit the queen win Mortimer,
Will you be resolute and hold with me?

Elder Mortimer
Not I, against my nephew.

Pembroke
Fear not; the queen’s words cannot alter him.

Warwick
No? do but mark how earnestly she pleads!

Lancaster
And see how coldly his looks make denial!

Warwick
She smiles: now, for my life, his mind is changed!

Lancaster
I’ll rather lose his friendship, I, than grant.

Younger Mortimer

Well, of necessity it must be so.⁠—
My lords, that I abhor base Gaveston
I hope your honours make no question.
And therefore, though I plead for his repeal,
’Tis not for his sake, but to our avail;
Nay, for the realm’s behoof, and for the king’s.

Lancaster

Fie, Mortimer, dishonour not thyself!
Can this be true, ’twas good to banish him?
And is this true, to call him home again?
Such reasons make white black, and dark night day.

Younger Mortimer
My Lord of Lancaster, mark the respect.

Lancaster
In no respect can contraries be true.

Queen Isabella
Yet, good my lord, hear what he can allege.

Warwick
All that he speaks is nothing; we are resolved.

Younger Mortimer
Do you not wish that Gaveston were dead?

Pembroke
I would he were!

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

Elder Mortimer
But, nephew, do not play the sophister.

Younger Mortimer

This which I urge is of a burning zeal
To mend the king and do our country good.
Know you not Gaveston hath store of gold,
Which may in Ireland purchase him such friends
As he will front the mightiest of us all?
And whereas he shall live and be beloved,
’Tis hard for us to work his overthrow.

Warwick
Mark you but that, my lord of Lancaster.

Younger Mortimer

But, were he here, detested as he is,
How easily might some base slave be suborned
To greet his lordship with a poniard,
And none so much as blame the murderer,
But rather praise him for that brave attempt,
And in the chronicle enrol his name
For purging of the realm of such a plague!

Pembroke
He saith true.

Lancaster
Ay, but how chance this was not done before?

Younger Mortimer

Because, my lords, it was not thought upon.
Nay, more, when he shall know it lies in us
To banish him, and then to call him home,
’Twill make him vail the top flag of his pride,
And fear to offend the meanest nobleman.

Elder Mortimer
But how if he do not, nephew?

Younger Mortimer

Then may we with some colour rise in arms;
For, howsoever we have borne it out,
’Tis treason to be up against the king;
So shall we have the people of our side,
Which, for his father’s sake, lean to the king,
But cannot brook a night-grown mushroom,
Such a one as my Lord of Cornwall is,
Should bear us down of the nobility:
And, when the commons and the nobles join,
’Tis not the king can buckler Gaveston;
We’ll pull him from the strongest hold he hath.
My lords, if to perform this I be slack,
Think me as base a groom as Gaveston.

Lancaster
On that condition Lancaster will grant.

Warwick
And so will Pembroke and I.

Elder Mortimer
And I.

Younger Mortimer

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

Queen Isabella

And when this favour Isabel forgets,
Then let her live abandoned and forlorn.⁠—
But see, in happy time, my lord the king,
Having brought the Earl of Cornwall on his way,
Is new returned. This news will glad him much:
Yet not so much as me; I love him more
Than he can Gaveston: would he loved me
But half so much! then were I treble-blest.

Reenter King Edward, mourning.

King Edward

He’s gone, and for his absence thus I mourn:
Did never sorrow go so near my heart
As doth the want of my sweet Gaveston;
And, could my crown’s revenue bring him back,
I would freely give it to his enemies,
And think I gained, having bought so dear a friend.

Queen Isabella
Hark, how he harps upon his minion!

King Edward

My heart is as an anvil unto sorrow,
Which beats upon it like the Cyclops’ hammers,
And with the noise turns up my giddy brain,
And makes me frantic for my Gaveston.
Ah, had some bloodless Fury rose from hell,
And with my kingly sceptre struck me dead,
When I was forced to leave my Gaveston!

Lancaster
Diablo, what passions call you these?

Queen Isabella
My gracious lord, I come to bring you news.

King Edward
That you have parled with your Mortimer?

Queen Isabella
That Gaveston, my lord, shall be repealed.

King Edward
Repealed! the news is too sweet to be true.

Queen Isabella
But will you love me, if you find it so?

King Edward
If it be so, what will not Edward do?

Queen Isabella
For Gaveston, but not for Isabel.

King Edward

For thee, fair queen, if thou lov’st Gaveston;
I’ll hang a golden tongue about thy neck,
Seeing thou hast pleaded with so good success.

Queen Isabella

No other jewels hang about my neck
Than these, my lord; nor let me have more wealth
Than I may fetch from this rich treasury.
O, how a kiss revives poor Isabel!

King Edward

Once more receive my hand; and let this be
A second marriage ’twixt thyself and me.

Queen Isabella

And may it prove more happy than the first!
My gentle lord, bespeak these nobles fair,
That wait attendance for a gracious look,
And on their knees salute your majesty.

King Edward

Courageous Lancaster, embrace thy king;
And, as gross vapours perish by the sun,
Even so let hatred with thy sovereign’s smile:
Live thou with me as my companion.

Lancaster
This salutation overjoys my heart.

King Edward

Warwick shall be my chiefest counsellor:
These silver hairs will more adorn my court
Than gaudy silks or rich embroidery.
Chide me, sweet Warwick, if I go astray.

Warwick
Slay me, my lord, when I offend your grace.

King Edward

In solemn triumphs and in public shows
Pembroke shall bear the sword before the king.

Pembroke
And with this sword Pembroke will fight for you.

King Edward

But wherefore walks young Mortimer aside?
Be thou commander of our royal fleet;
Or, if that lofty office like thee not,
I make thee here Lord Marshal of the realm.

Younger Mortimer

My lord, I’ll marshal so your enemies,
As England shall be quiet, and you safe.

King Edward

And as for you, Lord Mortimer of Chirke,
Whose great achievements in our foreign war
Deserve no common place nor mean reward,
Be you the general of the levied troops
That now are ready to assail the Scots.

Elder Mortimer

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

Queen Isabella

Now is the king of England rich and strong,
Having the love of his renowned peers.

King Edward

Ay, Isabel, ne’er was my heart so light.⁠—
Clerk of the crown, direct our warrant forth,
For Gaveston, to Ireland!

Enter Beaumont with warrant.

Beaumont, fly
As fast as Iris or Jove’s Mercury.

Beaumont
It shall be done, my gracious lord. Exit.

King Edward

Lord Mortimer, we leave you to your charge.
Now let us in, and feast it royally.
Against our friend the Earl of Cornwall comes
We’ll have a general tilt and tournament;
And then his marriage shall be solemnised;
For wot you not that I have made him sure
Unto our cousin, the Earl of Gloucester’s heir?

Lancaster
Such news we hear, my lord.

King Edward

That day, if not for him, yet for my sake,
Who in the triumph will be challenger,
Spare for no cost; we will requite your love.

Warwick
In this or aught your highness shall command us.

King Edward
Thanks, gentle Warwick. Come, let’s in and revel.

Exeunt all except the Elder Mortimer and the Younger Mortimer.

Elder Mortimer

Nephew, I must to Scotland; thou stay’st here.
Leave now to oppose thyself against the king:
Thou seest by nature he is mild and calm;
And, seeing his mind so dotes on Gaveston,
Let him without controlment have his will.
The mightiest kings have had their minions;
Great Alexander loved Hephaestion,
The conquering Hercules for Hylas wept,
And for Patroclus stern Achilles drooped.
And not kings only, but the wisest men;
The Roman Tully loved Octavius,
Grave Socrates wild Alcibiades.
Then let his grace, whose youth is flexible,
And promiseth as much as we can wish,
Freely enjoy that vain lightheaded earl;
For riper years will wean him from such toys.

Younger Mortimer

Uncle, his wanton humour grieves not me;
But this I scorn, that one so basely-born
Should by his sovereign’s favour grow so pert,
And riot it with the treasure of the realm,
While soldiers mutiny for want of pay.
He wears a lord’s revenue on his back,
And, Midas-like, he jets it in the court,
With base outlandish cullions at his heels,
Whose proud fantastic liveries make such show
As if that Proteus, god of shapes, appeared.
I have not seen a dapper Jack so brisk:
He wears a short Italian hooded cloak,
Larded with pearl, and in his Tuscan cap
A jewel of more value than the crown.
While others walk below, the king and he,
From out a window, laugh at such as we,
And flout our train, and jest at our attire.
Uncle, ’tis this that makes me impatient.

Elder Mortimer
But, nephew, now you see the king is changed.

Younger Mortimer

Then so I am, and live to do him service:
But, whiles I have a sword, a hand, a heart,
I will not yield to any such upstart.
You know my mind: come, uncle, let’s away.

Exeunt.

Act II

Scene I

A hall in Gloucester’s house.

Enter the Younger Spenser and Baldock.

Baldock

Spenser,
Seeing that our lord the Earl of Gloucester’s dead,
Which of the nobles dost thou mean to serve?

Younger Spenser

Not Mortimer, nor any of his side,
Because the king and he are enemies.
Baldock, learn this of me: a factious lord
Shall hardly do himself good, much less us;
But he that hath the favour of a king
May with one word advance us while we live.
The liberal Earl of Cornwall is the man
On whose good fortune Spenser’s hope depends.

Baldock
What, mean you, then, to be his follower?

Younger Spenser

No, his companion; for he loves me well,
And would have once preferred me to the king.

Baldock
But he is banished; there’s small hope of him.

Younger Spenser

Ay, for a while; but, Baldock, mark the end.
A friend of mine told me in secrecy
That he’s repealed and sent for back again;
And even now a post came from the court
With letters to our lady from the king;
And, as she read, she smiled; which makes me think
It is about her lover Gaveston.

Baldock

’Tis like enough; for, since he was exiled,
She neither walks abroad nor comes in sight.
But I had thought the match had been broke off,
And that his banishment had changed her mind.

Younger Spenser

Our lady’s first love is not wavering;
My life for thine, she will have Gaveston.

Baldock

Then hope I by her means to be preferred,
Having read unto her since she was a child.

Younger Spenser

Then, Baldock, you must cast the scholar off,
And learn to court it like a gentleman.
’Tis not a black coat and a little band,
A velvet-caped cloak, faced 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 table’s end,
Or making low legs to a nobleman,
Or looking downward, with your eyelids close,
And saying, “Truly, an’t may please your honour,”
Can get you any favour with great men:
You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute,
And now and then stab, as occasion serves.

Baldock

Spenser, thou know’st I hate such formal toys,
And use them but of mere hypocrisy.
Mine old lord, whiles he lived, was so precise,
That he would take exceptions at my buttons,
And, being like pins’ heads, blame me for the bigness;
Which made me curate-like in mine attire,
Though inwardly licentious enough,
And apt for any kind of villainy.
I am none of these common pedants, I,
That cannot speak without propterea quod.

Younger Spenser

But one of those that saith quando-quidem,
And hath a special gift to form a verb.

Baldock
Leave off this jesting; here my lady comes.

Enter King Edward’s Niece.

Niece

The grief for his exile was not so much
As is the joy of his returning home.
This letter came from my sweet Gaveston:
What need’st thou, love, thus to excuse thyself?
I know thou couldst not come and visit me. Reads.
“I will not long be from thee, though I die.”
This argues the entire love of my lord;⁠—Reads.
“When I forsake thee, death seize on my heart”:
But stay thee here where Gaveston shall sleep. Puts the letter into her bosom.
Now to the letter of my lord the king:
He wills me to repair unto the court,
And meet my Gaveston: why do I stay,
Seeing that he talks thus of my marriage day?⁠—
Who’s there? Baldock!
See that my coach be ready; I must hence.

Baldock
It shall be done, madam.

Niece
And meet me at the park-pale presently.

Exit Baldock.

Spenser, stay you, and bear me company,
For I have joyful news to tell thee of;
My lord of Cornwall is a-coming over,
And will be at the court as soon as we.

Younger Spenser
I knew the king would have him home again.

Niece

If all things sort out, as I hope they will,
Thy service, Spenser, shall be thought upon.

Younger Spenser
I humbly thank your ladyship.

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

Exeunt.

Scene II

Before Tynemouth Castle.

Enter King Edward, Queen Isabella, Kent, Lancaster, the Younger Mortimer, Warwick, Pembroke, and Attendants.

King Edward

The wind is good; I wonder why he stays:
I fear me he is wrecked upon the sea.

Queen Isabella

Look, Lancaster, how passionate he is,
And still his mind runs on his minion!

Lancaster
My lord⁠—

King Edward
How now! what news? is Gaveston arrived?

Younger Mortimer

Nothing but Gaveston! what means your grace?
You have matters of more weight to think upon:
The King of France sets foot in Normandy.

King Edward

A trifle! we’ll expel him when we please.
But tell me, Mortimer, what’s thy device
Against the stately triumph we decreed?

Younger Mortimer
A homely one, my lord, not worth the telling.

King Edward
Pray thee, let me know it.

Younger Mortimer

But, seeing you are so desirous, thus it is;
A lofty cedar tree, fair flourishing,
On whose top branches kingly eagles perch,
And by the bark a canker creeps me up,
And gets unto the highest bough of all;
The motto, Aeque tandem.

King Edward
And what is yours, my Lord of Lancaster?

Lancaster

My lord, mine’s more obscure than Mortimer’s.
Pliny reports there is a flying-fish
Which all the other fishes deadly hate,
And therefore, being pursued, it takes the air:
No sooner is it up, but there’s a fowl
That seizeth it: this fish, my lord, I bear;
The motto this, Undique mors est.

Kent

Proud Mortimer! ungentle Lancaster!
Is this the love you bear your sovereign?
Is this the fruit your reconcilement bears?
Can you in words make show of amity,
And in your shields display your rancorous minds?
What call you this but private libelling
Against the Earl of Cornwall and my brother?

Queen Isabella
Sweet husband, be content; they all love you.

King Edward

They love me not that hate my Gaveston.
I am that cedar; shake me not too much;
And you the eagles; soar ye ne’er so high,
I have the jesses that will pull you down;
And Aeque tandem shall that canker cry
Unto the proudest peer of Britainy.
Thou that compar’st him to a flying-fish,
And threaten’st death whether he rise or fall,
’Tis not the hugest monster of the sea,
Nor foulest harpy, that shall swallow him.

Younger Mortimer

If in his absence thus he favours him,
What will he do whenas he shall be present?

Lancaster
That shall we see: look, where his lordship comes!

Enter Gaveston.

King Edward

My Gaveston!
Welcome to Tynmouth! welcome to thy friend!
Thy absence made me droop and pine away;
For, as the lovers of fair Danae,
When she was locked up in a brazen tower,
Desired her more, and waxed outrageous,
So did it fare with me: and now thy sight
Is sweeter far than was thy parting hence
Bitter and irksome to my sobbing heart.

Gaveston

Sweet lord and king, your speech preventeth mine;
Yet have I words left to express my joy:
The shepherd, nipt with biting winter’s rage,
Frolics not more to see the painted spring
Than I do to behold your majesty.

King Edward
Will none of you salute my Gaveston?

Lancaster
Salute him! yes.⁠—Welcome, Lord Chamberlain!

Younger Mortimer
Welcome is the good Earl of Cornwall!

Warwick
Welcome, Lord Governor of the Isle of Man!

Pembroke
Welcome, Master Secretary!

Kent
Brother, do you hear them?

King Edward
Still will these earls and barons use me thus?

Gaveston
My lord, I cannot brook these injuries.

Queen Isabella
Aside. Ay me, poor soul, when these begin to jar!

King Edward
Return it to their throats; I’ll be thy warrant.

Gaveston

Base, leaden earls, that glory in your birth,
Go sit at home, and eat your tenants’ beef;
And come not here to scoff at Gaveston,
Whose mounting thoughts did never creep so low
As to bestow a look on such as you.

Lancaster
Yet I disdain not to do this for you. Draws his sword, and offers to stab Gaveston.

King Edward
Treason! treason! where’s the traitor?

Pembroke
Here, here!

King Edward
Convey hence Gaveston; they’ll murder him.

Gaveston
The life of thee shall salve this foul disgrace.

Younger Mortimer
Villain, thy life! unless I miss mine aim. Wounds Gaveston.

Queen Isabella
Ah, furious Mortimer, what hast thou done?

Younger Mortimer
No more than I would answer, were he slain.

Exit Gaveston with Attendants.

King Edward

Yes, more than thou canst answer, though he live:
Dear shall you both abide this riotous deed:
Out of my presence! come not near the court.

Younger Mortimer
I’ll not be barred the court for Gaveston.

Lancaster
We’ll hale him by the ears unto the block.

King Edward
Look to your own heads; his is sure enough.

Warwick
Look to your own crown, if you back him thus.

Kent
Warwick, these words do ill beseem thy years.

King Edward

Nay, all of them conspire to cross me thus:
But, if I live, I’ll tread upon their heads
That think with high looks thus to tread me down.
Come, Edmund, let’s away, and levy men:
’Tis war that must abate these barons’ pride.

Exeunt King Edward, Queen Isabella, and Kent.

Warwick
Let’s to our castles, for the king is moved.

Younger Mortimer
Moved may he be, and perish in his wrath!

Lancaster

Cousin, it is no dealing with him now;
He means to make us stoop by force of arms:
And therefore let us jointly here protest
To prosecute that Gaveston to the death.

Younger Mortimer
By heaven, the abject villain shall not live!

Warwick
I’ll have his blood, or die in seeking it.

Pembroke
The like oath Pembroke takes.

Lancaster

And so doth Lancaster.
Now send our heralds to defy the king;
And make the people swear to put him down.

Enter a Messenger.

Younger Mortimer
Letters! from whence?

Messenger
Giving letters to Mortimer. From Scotland, my lord.

Lancaster
Why, how now, cousin! how fare all our friends?

Younger Mortimer
My uncle’s taken prisoner by the Scots.

Lancaster
We’ll have him ransomed, man: be of good cheer.

Younger Mortimer

They rate his ransom at five thousand pound.
Who should defray the money but the king,
Seeing he is taken prisoner in his wars?
I’ll to the king.

Lancaster
Do, cousin, and I’ll bear thee company.

Warwick

Meantime my Lord of Pembroke and myself
Will to Newcastle here, and gather head.

Younger Mortimer
About it, then, and we will follow you.

Lancaster
Be resolute and full of secrecy.

Warwick
I warrant you. Exit with Pembroke.

Younger Mortimer

Cousin, an if he will not ransom him,
I’ll thunder such a peal into his ears
As never subject did unto his king.

Lancaster

Content; I’ll bear my part.⁠—Hollo! who’s there?

Enter Guard.

Younger Mortimer
Ay, marry, such a guard as this doth well.

Lancaster
Lead on the way.

Guard
Whither will your lordships?

Younger Mortimer
Whither else but to the king?

Guard
His highness is disposed to be alone.

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

Guard
You may not in, my lord.

Younger Mortimer
May we not?

Enter King Edward and Kent.

King Edward

How now!
What noise is this? who have we here? is’t you? Going.

Younger Mortimer

Nay, stay, my lord; I come to bring you news;
Mine uncle’s taken prisoner by the Scots.

King Edward
Then ransom him.

Lancaster
’Twas in your wars; you should ransom him.

Younger Mortimer
And you will ransom him, or else⁠—

Kent
What, Mortimer, you will not threaten him?

King Edward

Quiet yourself; you shall have the broad seal,
To gather for him throughout the realm.

Lancaster
Your minion Gaveston hath taught you this.

Younger Mortimer

My lord, the family of the Mortimers
Are not so poor, but, would they sell their land,
’Twould levy men enough to anger you.
We never beg, but use such prayers as these.

King Edward
Shall I still be haunted thus?

Younger Mortimer
Nay, now you are here alone, I’ll speak my mind.

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

Younger Mortimer

The idle triumphs, masks, lascivious shows,
And prodigal gifts bestowed on Gaveston,
Have drawn thy treasury dry, and made thee weak;
The murmuring commons, overstretched, break.

Lancaster

Look for rebellion, look to be deposed:
Thy garrisons are beaten out of France,
And, lame and poor, lie groaning at the gates;
The wild Oneil, with swarms of Irish kerns,
Lives uncontrolled within the English pale;
Unto the walls of York the Scots make road,
And, unresisted, drive away rich spoils.

Younger Mortimer

The haughty Dane commands the narrow seas,
While in the harbour ride thy ships unrigged.

Lancaster
What foreign prince sends thee ambassadors?

Younger Mortimer
Who loves thee, but a sort of flatterers?

Lancaster

Thy gentle queen, sole sister to Valois,
Complains that thou hast left her all forlorn.

Younger Mortimer

Thy court is naked, being bereft of those
That make a king seem glorious to the world,
I mean the peers, whom thou shouldst dearly love;
Libels are cast against thee in the street;
Ballads and rhymes made of thy overthrow.

Lancaster

The northern borderers, seeing their houses burnt,
Their wives and children slain, run up and down,
Cursing the name of thee and Gaveston.

Younger Mortimer

When wert thou in the field with banner spread,
But once? and then thy soldiers marched like players,
With garish robes, not armour; and thyself,
Bedaubed with gold, rode laughing at the rest,
Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest,
Where women’s favours hung like labels down.

Lancaster

And thereof came it that the fleering Scots,
To England’s high disgrace, have made this jig;

“Maids of England, sore may you mourn,
For your lemans you have lost at Bannocksbourn⁠—
With a heave and a ho!
What weeneth the king of England
So soon to have won Scotland!⁠—
With a rombelow!”

Younger Mortimer
Wigmore shall fly, to set my uncle free.

Lancaster

And, when ’tis gone, our swords shall purchase more.
If you be moved, revenge it as you can:
Look next to see us with our ensigns spread. Exit with the Younger Mortimer.

King Edward

My swelling heart for very anger breaks:
How oft have I been baited by these peers,
And dare not be revenged, for their power is great!
Yet, shall the crowning of these cockerels
Affright a lion? Edward, unfold thy paws,
And let their lives’-blood slake thy fury’s hunger.
If I be cruel and grow tyrannous,
Now let them thank themselves, and rue too late.

Kent

My lord, I see your love to Gaveston
Will be the ruin of the realm and you,
For now the wrathful nobles threaten wars;
And therefore, brother, banish him forever.

King Edward
Art thou an enemy to my Gaveston?

Kent
Ay; and it grieves me that I favoured him.

King Edward
Traitor, be gone! whine thou with Mortimer.

Kent
So will I, rather than with Gaveston.

King Edward
Out of my sight, and trouble me no more!

Kent

No marvel though thou scorn thy noble peers,
When I thy brother am rejected thus.

King Edward

Away! Exit Kent.
Poor Gaveston, thou hast no friend but me!
Do what they can, we’ll live in Tynmouth here;
And, so I walk with him about the walls,
What care I though the earls begirt us round?
Here comes she that is cause of all these jars.

Enter Queen Isabella, with Edward’s Niece, two Ladies, Gaveston, Baldock, and the Younger Spenser.

Queen Isabella
My lord, ’tis thought the earls are up in arms.

King Edward
Ay, and ’tis likewise thought you favour ’em.

Queen Isabella
Thus do you still suspect me without cause.

Niece
Sweet uncle, speak more kindly to the queen.

Gaveston
My lord, dissemble with her; speak her fair.

King Edward
Pardon me, sweet; I forgot myself.

Queen Isabella
Your pardon is quickly got of Isabel.

King Edward

The younger Mortimer is grown so brave,
That to my face he threatens civil wars.

Gaveston
Why do you not commit him to the Tower?

King Edward
I dare not, for the people love him well.

Gaveston
Why, then, we’ll have him privily made away.

King Edward

Would Lancaster and he had both caroused
A bowl of poison to each other’s health!
But let them go, and tell me what are these.

Niece

Two of my father’s servants whilst he lived:
May’t please your grace to entertain them now.

King Edward
Tell me, where wast thou born? what is thine arms?

Baldock

My name is Baldock, and my gentry
I fetch from Oxford, not from heraldry.

King Edward

The fitter art thou, Baldock, for my turn.
Wait on me, and I’ll see thou shalt not want.

Baldock
I humbly thank your majesty.

King Edward
Knowest thou him, Gaveston.

Gaveston

Ay, my lord;
His name is Spenser; he is well allied:
For my sake let him wait upon your grace;
Scarce shall you find a man of more desert.

King Edward

Then, Spenser, wait upon me for his sake:
I’ll grace thee with a higher style ere long.

Younger Spenser

No greater titles happen unto me
Than to be favoured of your majesty!

King Edward

Cousin, this day shall be your marriage feast:⁠—
And, Gaveston, think that I love thee well,
To wed thee to our niece, the only heir
Unto the Earl of Gloucester late deceased.

Gaveston

I know, my lord, many will stomach me;
But I respect neither their love nor hate.

King Edward

The headstrong barons shall not limit me;
He that I list to favour shall be great.
Come, let’s away; and, when the marriage ends,
Have at the rebels and their complices!

Exeunt.

Scene III

Near Tynemouth Castle.

Enter Kent, Lancaster, the Younger Mortimer, Warwick, Pembroke, and others.

Kent

My lords, of love to this our native land,
I come to join with you, and leave the king;
And in your quarrel, and the realm’s behoof,
Will be the first that shall adventure life.

Lancaster

I fear me, you are sent of policy,
To undermine us with a show of love.

Warwick

He is your brother; therefore have we cause
To cast the worst, and doubt of your revolt.

Kent

Mine honour shall be hostage of my truth:
If that will not suffice, farewell, my lords.

Younger Mortimer

Stay, Edmund: never was Plantagenet
False of his word; and therefore trust we thee.

Pembroke
But what’s the reason you should leave him now?

Kent
I have informed the Earl of Lancaster.

Lancaster

And it sufficeth. Now, my lords, know this,
That Gaveston is secretly arrived,
And here in Tynmouth frolics with the king.
Let us with these our followers scale the walls,
And suddenly surprise them unawares.

Younger Mortimer
I’ll give the onset.

Warwick
And I’ll follow thee.

Younger Mortimer

This tattered ensign of my ancestors,
Which swept the desert shore of that Dead Sea
Whereof we got the name of Mortimer,
Will I advance upon this castle’s walls⁠—
Drums, strike alarum, raise them from their sport,
And ring aloud the knell of Gaveston!

Lancaster

None be so hardy as to touch the king;
But neither spare you Gaveston nor his friends.

Exeunt.

Scene IV

In Tynemouth Castle.

Enter severally King Edward and the Younger Spenser.

King Edward
O, tell me, Spenser, where is Gaveston?

Younger Spenser
I fear me he is slain, my gracious lord.

King Edward
No, here he comes; now let them spoil and kill.

Enter Queen Isabella, King Edward’s Niece, Gaveston, and Nobles.

Fly, fly, my lords; the earls have got the hold;
Take shipping, and away to Scarborough:
Spenser and I will post away by land.

Gaveston
O, stay, my lord! they will not injure you.

King Edward
I will not trust them. Gaveston, away!

Gaveston
Farewell, my lord.

King Edward
Lady, farewell.

Niece
Farewell, sweet uncle, till we meet again.

King Edward
Farewell, sweet Gaveston; and farewell, niece.

Queen Isabella
No farewell to poor Isabel thy queen?

King Edward
Yes, yes, for Mortimer your lover’s sake.

Queen Isabella
Heavens can witness, I love none but you.

Exeunt all except Queen Isabella.

From my embracements thus he breaks away.
O, that mine arms could close this isle about,
That I might pull him to me where I would!
Or that these tears, that drizzle from mine eyes,
Had power to mollify his stony heart,
That, when I had him, we might never part!

Enter Lancaster, Warwick, the Younger Mortimer, and others. Alarums within.

Lancaster
I wonder how he scaped!

Younger Mortimer
Who’s this? the queen!

Queen Isabella

Ay, Mortimer, the miserable queen,
Whose pining heart her inward sighs have blasted,
And body with continual mourning wasted:
These hands are tired with haling of my lord
From Gaveston, from wicked Gaveston;
And all in vain; for, when I speak him fair,
He turns away, and smiles upon his minion.

Younger Mortimer
Cease to lament, and tell us where’s the king?

Queen Isabella
What would you with the king? is’t him you seek?

Lancaster

No, madam, but that cursed Gaveston:
Far be it from the thought of Lancaster
To offer violence to his sovereign!
We would but rid the realm of Gaveston:
Tell us where he remains, and he shall die.

Queen Isabella

He’s gone by water unto Scarborough:
Pursue him quickly, and he cannot scape;
The king hath left him, and his train is small.

Warwick
Forslow no time, sweet Lancaster; let’s march.

Younger Mortimer
How comes it that the king and he is parted?

Queen Isabella

That thus your army, going several ways,
Might be of lesser force, and with the power
That he intendeth presently to raise,
Be easily suppressed: therefore be gone.

Younger Mortimer

Here in the river rides a Flemish hoy:
Let’s all aboard, and follow him amain.

Lancaster

The wind that bears him hence will fill our sails;
Come, come, aboard! ’tis but an hour’s sailing.

Younger Mortimer
Madam, stay you within this castle here.

Queen Isabella
No, Mortimer; I’ll to my lord the king.

Younger Mortimer
Nay, rather sail with us to Scarborough.

Queen Isabella

You know the king is so suspicious
As, if he hear I have but talked with you,
Mine honour will be called in question;
And therefore, gentle Mortimer, be gone.

Younger Mortimer

Madam, I cannot stay to answer you:
But think of Mortimer as he deserves.

Exeunt all except Queen Isabella.

Queen Isabella

So well hast thou deserved, sweet Mortimer,
As Isabel could live with thee forever.
In vain I look for love at Edward’s hand,
Whose eyes are fixed on none but Gaveston.
Yet once more I’ll importune him with prayer:
If he be strange, and not regard my words,
My son and I will over into France,
And to the king my brother there complain
How Gaveston hath robbed me of his love:
But yet, I hope, my sorrows will have end,
And Gaveston this blessed day be slain. Exit.

Scene V

The open country.

Enter Gaveston, pursued.

Gaveston

Yet, lusty lords, I have escaped your hands,
Your threats, your ’larums, and your hot pursuits;
And, though divorced from King Edward’s eyes,
Yet liveth Pierce of Gaveston unsurprised,
Breathing in hope (malgrado all your beards,
That muster rebels thus against your king)
To see his royal sovereign once again.

Enter Warwick, Lancaster, Pembroke, the Younger Mortimer, Soldiers, James, and other Attendants of Pembroke.

Warwick
Upon him, soldiers! take away his weapons!

Younger Mortimer

Thou proud disturber of thy country’s peace,
Corrupter of thy king, cause of these broils,
Base flatterer, yield! and, were it not for shame,
Shame and dishonour to a soldier’s name,
Upon my weapon’s point here shouldst thou fall,
And welter in thy gore.

Lancaster

Monster of men,
That, like the Greekish strumpet, trained to arms
And bloody wars so many valiant knights,
Look for no other fortune, wretch, than death!
King Edward is not here to buckler thee.

Warwick

Lancaster, why talk’st thou to the slave?⁠—
Go, soldiers, take him hence; for, by my sword,
His head shall off.⁠—Gaveston, short warning
Shall serve thy turn: it is our country’s cause
That here severely we will execute
Upon thy person.⁠—Hang him at a bough.

Gaveston
My lord!⁠—

Warwick

Soldiers, have him away.⁠—
But, for thou wert the favourite of a king,
Thou shalt have so much honour at our hands.

Gaveston

I thank you all, my lords: then I perceive
That heading is one, and hanging is the other,
And death is all.

Enter Arundel.

Lancaster
How now, my Lord of Arundel?

Arundel
My lords, King Edward greets you all by me.

Warwick
Arundel, say your message.

Arundel

His majesty, hearing that you had taken Gaveston,
Entreateth you by me, yet but he may
See him before he dies; for why, he says,
And sends you word, he knows that die he shall;
And, if you gratify his grace so far,
He will be mindful of the courtesy.

Warwick
How now!

Gaveston

Renowned Edward, how thy name
Revives poor Gaveston!

Warwick

No, it needeth not:
Arundel, we will gratify the king
In other matters; he must pardon us in this.⁠—
Soldiers, away with him!

Gaveston

Why, my Lord of Warwick,
Will now these short delays beget my hopes?
I know it, lords, it is life you aim at,
Yet grant King Edward this.

Younger Mortimer

Shalt thou appoint
What we shall grant?⁠—Soldiers, away with him!⁠—
Thus we’ll gratify the king;
We’ll send his head by thee; let him bestow
His tears on that, for that is all he gets
Of Gaveston, or else his senseless trunk.

Lancaster

Not so, my lord, lest he bestow more cost
In burying him than he hath ever earned.

Arundel

My lords, it is his majesty’s request,
And in the honour of a king he swears,
He will but talk with him, and send him back.

Warwick

When, can you tell? Arundel, no; we wot
He that the care of his realm remits,
And drives his nobles to these exigents
For Gaveston, will, if he seize him once,
Violate any promise to possess him.

Arundel

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

Younger Mortimer

’Tis 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 thief.

Gaveston
How mean’st thou, Mortimer? that is over-base.

Younger Mortimer

Away, base groom, robber of king’s renown!
Question with thy companions and mates.

Pembroke

My Lord Mortimer, and you, my lords, each one,
To gratify the king’s request therein,
Touching the sending of this Gaveston,
Because his majesty so earnestly
Desires to see the man before his death,
I will upon mine honour undertake
To carry him, and bring him back again;
Provided this, that you, my Lord of Arundel,
Will join with me.

Warwick

Pembroke, what wilt thou do?
Cause yet more bloodshed? is it not enough
That we have taken him, but must we now
Leave him on “Had I wist,” and let him go?

Pembroke

My lords, I will not over-woo your honours:
But, if you dare trust Pembroke with the prisoner,
Upon mine oath, I will return him back.

Arundel
My Lord of Lancaster, what say you in this?

Lancaster
Why, I say, let him go on Pembroke’s word.

Pembroke
And you, Lord Mortimer?

Younger Mortimer
How say you, my Lord of Warwick?

Warwick
Nay, do your pleasures: I know how ’twill prove.

Pembroke
Then give him me.

Gaveston

Sweet sovereign, yet I come
To see thee ere I die!

Warwick

Aside. Yet not perhaps,
If Warwick’s wit and policy prevail.

Younger Mortimer

My Lord of Pembroke, we deliver him you:
Return him on your honour.⁠—Sound, away!

Exeunt all except Pembroke, Arundel, Gaveston, James and other attendants of Pembroke.

Pembroke

My lord, you shall go with me:
My house is not far hence; out of the way
A little; but our men shall go along.
We that have pretty wenches to our wives,
Sir, must not come so near to balk their lips.

Arundel

’Tis very kindly spoke, my Lord of Pembroke:
Your honour hath an adamant of power
To draw a prince.

Pembroke

So, my lord.⁠—Come hither, James:
I do commit this Gaveston to thee;
Be thou this night his keeper; in the morning
We will discharge thee of thy charge: be gone.

Gaveston
Unhappy Gaveston, whither go’st thou now?

Exit with James and other Attendants of Pembroke.

Horse-boy
My lord, we’ll quickly be at Cobham.

Exeunt.

Act III

Scene I

The open country.

Enter Gaveston mourning, James, and other Attendants of Pembroke.

Gaveston
O treacherous Warwick, thus to wrong thy friend!

James
I see it is your life these arms pursue.

Gaveston

Weaponless must I fall, and die in bands?
O, must this day be period of my life,
Centre of all my bliss? And ye be men,
Speed to the king.

Enter Warwick and Soldiers.

Warwick

My Lord of Pembroke’s men,
Strive you no longer: I will have that Gaveston.

James

Your lordship doth dishonour to yourself,
And wrong our lord, your honourable friend.

Warwick

No, James, it is my country’s cause I follow.⁠—
Go, take the villain: soldiers, come away;
We’ll make quick work.⁠—Commend me to your master,
My friend, and tell him that I watched it well.⁠—
Come, let thy shadow parley with King Edward.

Gaveston
Treacherous earl, shall I not see the king?

Warwick

The king of heaven perhaps, no other king.⁠—
Away!

Exeunt Warwick and Soldiers with Gaveston.

James

Come, fellows: it booted not for us to strive:
We will in haste go certify our lord.

Exeunt.

Scene II

Near Boroughbridge, in Yorkshire.

Enter King Edward, the Younger Spenser, Baldock, Noblemen of the King’s side, and Soldiers with drums and fifes.

King Edward

I long to hear an answer from the barons
Touching my friend, my dearest Gaveston.
Ah, Spenser, not the riches of my realm
Can ransom him! ah, he is marked to die!
I know the malice of the younger Mortimer;
Warwick I know is rough, and Lancaster
Inexorable; and I shall never see
My lovely Pierce of Gaveston again!
The barons overbear with me their pride.

Younger Spenser

Were I King Edward, England’s sovereign,
Son to the lovely Eleanor of Spain,
Great Edward Longshanks’ issue, would I bear
These braves, this rage, and suffer uncontrolled
These barons thus to beard me in my land,
In mine own realm? My lord, pardon my speech:
Did you retain your father’s magnanimity,
Did you regard the honour of your name,
You would not suffer thus your majesty
Be counterbuffed of your nobility.
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 learn obedience to their lawful king.

King Edward

Yes, gentle Spenser, we have been too mild,
Too kind to them; but now have drawn our sword,
And, if they send me not my Gaveston,
We’ll steel it on their crests, and poll their tops.

Baldock

This haught resolve becomes your majesty,
Not to be tied to their affection,
As though your highness were a schoolboy still,
And must be awed and governed like a child.

Enter the Elder Spenser with his truncheon, and Soldiers.

Elder Spenser

Long live my sovereign, the noble Edward,
In peace triumphant, fortunate in wars!

King Edward

Welcome, old man: com’st thou in Edward’s aid?
Then tell thy prince of whence and what thou art.

Elder Spenser

Low, with a band of bowmen and of pikes,
Brown bills and targeteers, four hundred strong,
Sworn to defend King Edward’s royal right,
I come in person to your majesty,
Spenser, the father of Hugh Spenser there,
Bound to your highness everlastingly
For favour done, in him, unto us all.

King Edward

Thy father, Spenser?

Younger Spenser

True, an it like your grace,
That pours, in lieu of all your goodness shown,
His life, my lord, before your princely feet.

King Edward

Welcome ten thousand times, old man, again!
Spenser, this love, this kindness to thy king,
Argues thy noble mind and disposition.
Spenser, I here create thee Earl of Wiltshire,
And daily will enrich thee with our favour,
That, as the sunshine, shall reflect o’er thee.
Beside, the more to manifest our love,
Because we hear Lord Bruce doth sell his land,
And that the Mortimers are in hand withal,
Thou shalt have crowns of us to outbid the barons;
And, Spenser, spare them not, lay it on.⁠—
Soldiers, a largess, and thrice-welcome all!

Younger Spenser
My lord, here comes the queen.

Enter Queen Isabella, Prince Edward, and Levune, a Frenchman.

King Edward
Madam, what news?

Queen Isabella

News of dishonour, lord, and discontent.
Our friend Levune, faithful and full of trust,
Informeth us, by letters and by words,
That Lord Valois our brother, King of France,
Because your highness hath been slack in homage,
Hath seized Normandy into his hands.
These be the letters, this the messenger.

King Edward

Welcome, Levune.⁠—Tush, Sib, if this be all,
Valois and I will soon be friends again.⁠—
But to my Gaveston: shall I never see,
Never behold thee now!⁠—Madam, in this matter
We will employ you and your little son;
You shall go parley with the King of France.⁠—
Boy, see you bear you bravely to the king,
And do your message with a majesty.

Prince Edward

Commit not to my youth things of more weight
Than fits a prince so young as I to bear;
And fear not, lord and father⁠—heaven’s great beams
On Atlas’ shoulder shall not lie more safe
Than shall your charge committed to my trust.

Queen Isabella

Ah, boy, this towardness makes thy mother fear
Thou art not marked to many days on earth!

King Edward

Madam, we will that you with speed be shipped,
And this our son; Levune shall follow you
With all the haste we can despatch him hence.
Choose of our lords to bear you company;
And go in peace; leave us in wars at home.

Queen Isabella

Unnatural wars, where subjects brave their king:
God end them once!⁠—My lord, I take my leave,
To make my preparation for France. Exit with Prince Edward.

Enter Arundel.

King Edward
What, Lord Arundel, dost thou come alone?

Arundel
Yea, my good lord, for Gaveston is dead.

King Edward

Ah, traitors, have they put my friend to death?
Tell me, Arundel, died he ere thou cam’st,
Or didst thou see my friend to take his death?

Arundel

Neither, my lord; for, as he was surprised,
Begirt with weapons and with enemies round,
I did your highness’ message to them all,
Demanding him of them, entreating rather,
And said, upon the honour of my name,
That I would undertake to carry him
Unto your highness, and to bring him back.

King Edward
And, tell me, would the rebels deny me that?

Younger Spenser
Proud recreants!

King Edward
Yea, Spenser, traitors all.

Arundel

I found them at the first inexorable;
The Earl of Warwick would not bide the hearing,
Mortimer hardly; Pembroke and Lancaster
Spake least; and when they flatly had denied,
Refusing to receive me pledge for him,
The Earl of Pembroke mildly thus bespake;
“My lord, because our sovereign sends for him,
And promiseth he shall be safe returned,
I will this undertake, to have him hence,
And see him re-delivered to your hands.”

King Edward
Well, and how fortunes that he came not?

Younger Spenser
Some treason, or some villainy, was the cause.

Arundel

The Earl of Warwick seized him on his way;
For, being delivered unto Pembroke’s men,
Their lord rode home, thinking his prisoner safe;
But, ere he came, Warwick in ambush lay,
And bare him to his death; and in a trench
Strake off his head, and marched unto the camp.

Younger Spenser
A bloody part, flatly ’gainst law of arms!

King Edward
O, shall I speak, or shall I sigh and die!

Younger Spenser

My lord, refer your vengeance to the sword
Upon these barons; hearten up your men;
Let them not unrevenged murder your friends!
Advance your standard, Edward, in the field,
And march to fire them from their starting-holes.

King Edward

Kneeling. By earth, the common mother of us all,
By heaven, and all the moving orbs thereof,
By this right hand, and by my father’s sword,
And all the honours ’longing to my crown,
I will have heads and lives for him as many
As I have manors, castles, towns, and towers!⁠—Rises.
Treacherous Warwick! traitorous Mortimer!
If I be England’s king, in lakes of gore
Your headless trunks, your bodies will I trail,
That you may drink your fill, and quaff in blood,
And stain my royal standard with the same,
That so my bloody colours may suggest
Remembrance of revenge immortally
On your accursed traitorous progeny,
You villains that have slain my Gaveston!⁠—
And in this place of honour and of trust,
Spenser, sweet Spenser, I adopt thee here;
And merely of our love we do create thee
Earl of Gloucester and Lord Chamberlain,
Despite of times, despite of enemies.

Younger Spenser

My lord, here’s a messenger from the barons
Desires access unto your majesty.

King Edward
Admit him near.

Enter Herald with his coat of arms.

Herald
Long live King Edward, England’s lawful lord!

King Edward

So wish not they, I wis, that sent thee hither.
Thou com’st from Mortimer and his complices:
A ranker rout of rebels never was.
Well, say thy message.

Herald

The barons, up in arms, by me salute
Your highness with long life and happiness;
And bid me say, as plainer to your grace,
That if without effusion of blood
You will this grief have ease and remedy,
That from your princely person you remove
This Spenser, as a putrifying branch
That deads the royal vine, whose golden leaves
Impale your princely head, your diadem;
Whose brightness such pernicious upstarts dim,
Say they, and lovingly advise your grace
To cherish virtue and nobility,
And have old servitors in high esteem,
And shake off smooth dissembling flatterers:
This granted, they, their honours, and their lives,
Are to your highness vowed and consecrate.

Younger Spenser
Ah, traitors! will they still display their pride?

King Edward

Away! tarry no answer, but be gone!⁠—
Rebels, will they appoint their sovereign
His sports, his pleasures, and his company?⁠—
Yet, ere thou go, see how I do divorce embraces the Younger Spenser
Spenser from thee. Now get thee to thy lords,
And tell them I will come to chastise them
For murdering Gaveston: hie thee, get thee gone!
Edward, with fire and sword, follows at thy heels. Exit Herald.
My lords, perceive you how these rebels swell?⁠—
Soldiers, good hearts! defend your sovereign’s right,
For, now, even now, we march to make them stoop.
Away!

Exeunt. Alarums, excursions, a great fight, and a retreat sounded, within.

Scene III

The battlefield, Boroughbridge.

Enter King Edward, the Elder Spenser, the Younger Spenser, Baldock, and Noblemen of the King’s side.

King Edward

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

Younger Spenser
I doubt it not, my lord; right will prevail.

Elder Spenser

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

Younger Spenser

Here come the rebels.

Enter the Younger Mortimer, Lancaster, Warwick, Pembroke, and others.

Younger Mortimer

Look, Lancaster, yonder is Edward
Among his flatterers.

Lancaster

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

Warwick
And shall, or Warwick’s sword shall smite in vain.

King Edward
What, rebels, do you shrink and sound retreat?

Younger Mortimer
No, Edward, no; thy flatterers faint and fly.

Lancaster

They’d best betimes forsake thee and their trains,
For they’ll betray thee, traitors as they are.

Younger Spenser
Traitor on thy face, rebellious Lancaster!

Pembroke
Away, base upstart! brav’st thou nobles thus?

Elder Spenser

A noble attempt and honourable deed,
Is it not, trow ye, to assemble aid
And levy arms against your lawful king?

King Edward

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

Younger Mortimer

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

King Edward

Ay, traitors all, rather than thus be braved,
Make England’s civil towns huge heaps of stones,
And ploughs to go about our palace-gates.

Warwick

A desperate and unnatural resolution!⁠—
Alarum to the fight!
Saint George for England, and the barons’ right!

King Edward
Saint George for England, and King Edward’s right!

Alarums. Exeunt the two parties severally.

Reenter King Edward and his followers, with the Barons and Kent captive.

King Edward

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

Kent

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

King Edward

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

Warwick

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

Lancaster

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

King Edward

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

Warwick
Farewell, vain world!

Lancaster
Sweet Mortimer, farewell!

Younger Mortimer

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

King Edward

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

Younger Mortimer

What, Mortimer! can ragged stony walls
Immure thy virtue that aspires to heaven?
No, Edward, England’s scourge, it may not be;
Mortimer’s hope surmounts his fortune far.

The captive Barons are led off.

King Edward

Sound, drums and trumpets! March with me, my friends.
Edward this day hath crowned him king anew.

Exeunt all except the Younger Spenser, Levune and Baldock.

Younger Spenser

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

Levune

That’s it these barons and the subtle queen
Long levelled at.

Baldock

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

Levune

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

Younger Spenser

Then make for France amain; Levune, away!
Proclaim King Edward’s wars and victories.

Exeunt.

Act IV

Scene I

Near the Tower of London.

Enter Kent.

Kent

Fair blows the wind for France: blow, gentle gale,
Till Edmund be arrived for England’s good!
Nature, yield to my country’s cause in this!
A brother? no, a butcher of thy friends!
Proud Edward, dost thou banish me thy presence?
But I’ll to France, and cheer the wronged queen,
And certify what Edward’s looseness is.
Unnatural king, to slaughter nobleman
And cherish flatterers! Mortimer, I stay
Thy sweet escape. Stand gracious, gloomy night,
To his device.

Enter the Younger Mortimer disguised.

Younger Mortimer

Holla! who walketh there?
Is’t you, my lord?

Kent

Mortimer, ’tis I.
But hath thy portion wrought so happily?

Younger Mortimer

It hath, my lord: the warders all asleep,
I thank them, gave me leave to pass in peace.
But hath your grace got shipping unto France?

Kent
Fear it not.

Exeunt.

Scene II

Paris.

Enter Queen Isabella and Prince Edward.

Queen Isabella

Ah, boy, our friends do fail us all in France!
The lords are cruel, and the king unkind.
What shall we do?

Prince Edward

Madam, return to England,
And please my father well; and then a fig
For all my uncle’s friendship here in France!
I warrant you, I’ll win his highness quickly;
’A loves me better than a thousand Spensers.

Queen Isabella

Ah, boy, thou art deceived, at least in this,
To think that we can yet be tuned together!
No, no, we jar too far.⁠—Unkind Valois!
Unhappy Isabel, when France rejects,
Whither, O, whither dost thou bend thy steps?

Enter Sir John of Hainault.

Sir John

Madam, what cheer?

Queen Isabella

Ah, good Sir John of Hainault,
Never so cheerless nor so far distrest!

Sir John

I hear, sweet lady, of the king’s unkindness:
But droop not, madam; noble minds contemn
Despair. Will your grace with me to Hainault,
And there stay time’s advantage with your son?⁠—
How say you, my lord! will you go with your friends,
And shake off all our fortunes equally?

Prince Edward

So pleaseth the queen my mother, me it likes:
The king of England, not the court of France,
Shall have me from my gracious mother’s side,
Till I be strong enough to break a staff;
And then have at the proudest Spenser’s head!

Sir John

Well said, my lord!

Queen Isabella

O my sweet heart, how do I moan thy wrongs,
Yet triumph in the hope of thee, my joy!⁠—
Ah, sweet Sir John, even to the utmost verge
Of Europe, on the shore of Tanais,
Will we with thee to Hainault⁠—so we will:
The marquis is a noble gentleman;
His grace, I dare presume, will welcome me.⁠—
But who are these?

Enter Kent and the Younger Mortimer.

Kent

Madam, long may you live,
Much happier than your friends in England do!

Queen Isabella

Lord Edmund and Lord Mortimer alive!
Welcome to France! the news was here, my lord,
That you were dead, or very near your death.

Younger Mortimer

Lady, the last was truest of the twain:
But Mortimer, reserved for better hap,
Hath shaken off the thraldom of the Tower,
And lives to advance your standard, good my lord.

Prince Edward

How mean you, and the king my father lives?
No, my Lord Mortimer, not I, I trow.

Queen Isabella

Not, son! Why not? I would it were no worse!⁠—
But, gentle lords, friendless we are in France.

Younger Mortimer

Monsieur Le Grand, a noble friend of yours,
Told us, at our arrival, all the news⁠—
How hard the nobles, how unkind the king
Hath showed himself: but, madam, right makes room
Where weapons want; and, though a many friends
Are made away, as Warwick, Lancaster,
And others of our part and faction,
Yet have we friends, assure your grace, in England,
Would cast up caps, and clap their hands for joy,
To see us there, appointed for our foes.

Kent

Would all were well, and Edward well reclaimed,
For England’s honour, peace, and quietness!

Younger Mortimer

But by the sword, my lord, ’t must be deserved:
The king will ne’er forsake his flatterers.

Sir John

My lords of England, sith the ungentle king
Of France refuseth to give aid of arms
To this distressed queen, his sister, here,
Go you with her to Hainault: doubt ye not
We will find comfort, money, men, and friends,
Ere long to bid the English king a base.⁠—
How say’st, young prince, what think you of the match?

Prince Edward
I think King Edward will outrun us all.

Queen Isabella

Nay, son, not so; and you must not discourage
Your friends that are so forward in your aid.

Kent

Sir John of Hainault, pardon us, I pray:
These comforts that you give our woeful queen
Bind us in kindness all at your command.

Queen Isabella

Yea, gentle brother:⁠—and the God of heaven
Prosper your happy motion, good Sir John!

Younger Mortimer

This noble gentleman, forward in arms,
Was born, I see, to be our anchor-hold.⁠—
Sir John of Hainault, be it thy renown,
That England’s queen and nobles in distress
Have been by thee restored and comforted.

Sir John

Madam, along; and you, my lords, with me,
That England’s peers may Hainault’s welcome see.

Exeunt.

Scene III

The Royal Palace, London.

Enter King Edward, Arundel, the Elder Spenser, the Younger Spenser, and others.

King Edward

Thus, after many threats of wrathful war,
Triumpheth England’s Edward with his friends,
And triumph Edward with his friends uncontrolled!⁠—
My Lord of Gloucester, do you hear the news?

Younger Spenser
What news, my lord?

King Edward

Why, man, they say there is great execution
Done through the realm.⁠—My Lord of Arundel,
You have the note, have you not?

Arundel
From the Lieutenant of the Tower, my lord.

King Edward

I pray, let us see it. Takes the note from Arundel. What have we there?
Read it, Spenser. Gives the note to the Younger Spenser, who reads the names.
Why, so: they barked apace a month ago;
Now, on my life, they’ll neither bark nor bite.
Now, sirs, the news from France? Gloucester, I trow,
The lords of France love England’s gold so well
As Isabella gets no aid from thence.
What now remains? have you proclaimed, my lord,
Reward for them can bring in Mortimer?

Younger Spenser

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

King Edward

If, dost thou say? Spenser, as true as death,
He is in England’s ground: our port-masters
Are not so careless of their king’s command.

Enter a Messenger.

How now! what news with thee? from whence come these?

Messenger

Letters, my lord, and tidings forth of France:
To you, my Lord of Gloucester, from Levune. Gives letters to the Younger Spenser.

King Edward
Read.

Younger Spenser

Reading.

“My duty to your honour promised, etc., I have, according to instructions in that behalf, dealt with the King of France and his lords, and effected that the queen, all discontented and discomforted, is gone: whither, if you ask, with Sir John of Hainault, brother to the marquis, into Flanders. With them are gone Lord Edmund and the Lord Mortimer, having in their company divers of your nation, and others; and, as constant report goeth, they intend to give King Edward battle in England, sooner than he can look for them. This is all the news of import.

Your honour’s in all service, Levune.”

King Edward

Ah, villains, hath that Mortimer escaped?
With him is Edmund gone associate?
And will Sir John of Hainault lead the round?
Welcome, o’ God’s name, madam, and your son!
England shall welcome you and all your rout.
Gallop apace, bright Phbus, through the sky;
And, dusky Night, in rusty iron car,
Between 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 grieves me, but my little boy
Is thus misled to countenance their ills!
Come, friends, to Bristow, there to make us strong:
And, winds, as equal be to bring them in,
As you injurious were to bear them forth!

Exeunt.

Scene IV

Near Harwich.

Enter Queen Isabella, Prince Edward, Kent, the Younger Mortimer, and Sir John of Hainault.

Queen Isabella

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 glaive
In civil broils make kin and countrymen
Slaughter themselves in others, and their sides
With their own weapons gored! But what’s the help?
Misgoverned kings are cause of all this wreck;
And, Edward, thou art one among them all,
Whose looseness hath betrayed thy land to spoil,
Who made the channel overflow with blood
Of thine own people: patron shouldst thou be;
But thou⁠—

Younger Mortimer

Nay, madam, if you be a warrior,
You must not grow so passionate in speeches.⁠—
Lords, sith that we are, by sufferance of heaven,
Arrived and armed in this prince’s right,
Here for our country’s cause swear we to him
All homage, fealty, and forwardness;
And for the open wrongs and injuries
Edward hath done to us, his queen, and land,
We come in arms to wreck it with the sword;
That England’s queen in peace may repossess
Her dignities and honours; and withal
We may remove these flatterers from the king
That havoc England’s wealth and treasury.

Sir John

Sound trumpets, my lord, and forward let us march.
Edward will think we come to flatter him.

Kent
I would he never had been flattered more!

Exeunt.

Scene V

Near Bristol.

Enter King Edward, Baldock, and the Younger Spenser.

Younger Spenser

Fly, fly, my lord! the queen is overstrong;
Her friends do multiply, and yours do fail.
Shape we our course to Ireland, there to breathe.

King Edward

What! was I born to fly and run away,
And leave the Mortimers conquerors behind?
Give me my horse, and let’s reinforce our troops.
And in this bed of honour die with fame.

Baldock

O, no, my lord! this princely resolution
Fits not the time: away! we are pursued.

Exeunt.

Enter Kent, with a sword and target.

Kent

This way he fled, but I am come too late.
Edward, alas, my heart relents for thee!
Proud traitor, Mortimer, why dost thou chase
Thy lawful king, thy sovereign, with thy sword?
Vile wretch, and why hast thou, of all unkind,
Borne arms against thy brother and thy king?
Rain showers of vengeance on my cursed head,
Thou God, to whom in justice it belongs
To punish this unnatural revolt!
Edward, this Mortimer aims at thy life!
O, fly him, then! But, Edmund, calm this rage;
Dissemble, or thou diest; for Mortimer
And Isabel do kiss, while they conspire:
And yet she bears a face of love, forsooth.
Fie on that love that hatcheth death and hate!
Edmund, away! Bristow to Longshanks’ blood
Is false; be not found single for suspect:
Proud Mortimer pries near into thy walks.

Enter Queen Isabella, Prince Edward, the Younger Mortimer, and Sir John of Hainault.

Queen Isabella

Successful battle gives the God of kings
To them that fight in right, and fear in wrath,
Since, then, successfully we have prevailed,
Thanked be heaven’s great architect, and you!
Ere farther we proceed, my noble lords,
We here create our well-beloved son,
Of love and care unto his royal person,
Lord Warden of the realm; and, sith the Fates
Have made his father so infortunate,
Deal you, my lords, in this, my loving lords,
As to your wisdoms fittest seems in all.

Kent

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

Prince Edward
Tell me, good uncle, what Edward do you mean?

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

Younger Mortimer

My Lord of Kent, what needs these questions?
’Tis not in her controlment nor in ours;
But as the realm and parliament shall please,
So shall your brother be disposed of.⁠—
Aside to the Queen. I like not this relenting mood in Edmund:
Madam, ’tis good to look to him betimes.

Queen Isabella
My lord, the Mayor of Bristow knows our mind.

Younger Mortimer

Yea, madam; and they scape not easily
That fled the field.

Queen Isabella

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

Sir John
So are the Spensers, the father and the son.

Younger Mortimer
This Edward is the ruin of the realm.

Enter Rice ap Howel with the Elder Spenser prisoner, and Attendants.

Rice ap Howel

God save Queen Isabel and her princely son!
Madam, the Mayor and citizens of Bristow,
In sign of love and duty to this presence,
Present by me this traitor to the state,
Spenser, the father to that wanton Spenser,
That, like the lawless Catiline of Rome,
Revelled in England’s wealth and treasury.

Queen Isabella
We thank you all.

Younger Mortimer

Your loving care in this
Deserveth princely favours and rewards.
But where’s the king and the other Spenser fled?

Rice ap Howel

Spenser the son, created Earl of Gloucester,
Is with that smooth-tongued scholar Baldock gone,
And shipped but late for Ireland with the king.

Younger Mortimer

Aside. Some whirlwind fetch them back, or sink them all!⁠—
They shall be started thence, I doubt it not.

Prince Edward
Shall I not see the king my father yet?

Kent
Aside. Unhappy Edward, chased from England’s bounds!

Sir John
Madam, what resteth? why stand you in a muse?

Queen Isabella

I rue my lord’s ill-fortune: but, alas,
Care of my country called me to this war!

Younger Mortimer

Madam, have done with care and sad complaint:
Your king hath wronged your country and himself,
And we must seek to right it as we may.⁠—
Meanwhile have hence this rebel to the block.

Elder Spenser

Rebel is he that fights against the prince:
So fought not they that fought in Edward’s right.

Younger Mortimer
Take him away; he prates.

Exeunt Attendants with the Elder Spenser.

You, Rice ap Howel,
Shall do good service to her majesty,
Being of countenance in your country here,
To follow these rebellious runagates.⁠—
We in mean while, madam, must take advice.
How Baldock, Spenser, and their complices,
May in their fall be followed to their end.

Exeunt.

Scene VI

The Abbey of Neath, Glamorganshire.

Enter the Abbot, Monks, King Edward, the Younger Spenser, and Baldock, the latter three disguised.

Abbot

Have you no doubt, my lord; have you no fear:
As silent and as careful we will be
To keep your royal person safe with us,
Free from suspect, and fell invasion
Of such as have your majesty in chase,
Yourself, and those your chosen company,
As danger of this stormy time requires.

King Edward

Father, thy face should harbour no deceit.
O, hadst thou ever been a king, thy heart,
Pierced deeply with sense of my distress,
Could not but take compassion of my state!
Stately and proud in riches and in train,
Whilom I was, powerful and full of pomp:
But what is he whom rule and empery
Have not in life or death made miserable?⁠—
Come, Spenser⁠—come, Baldock⁠—come, sit down by me;
Make trial now of that philosophy
That in our famous nurseries of arts
Thou suckedst from Plato and from Aristotle.⁠—
Father, this life contemplative is heaven:
O, that I might this life in quiet lead!
But we, alas, are chased!⁠—and you, my friends,
Your lives and my dishonour they pursue.⁠—
Yet, gentle monks, for treasure, gold, nor fee,
Do you betray us and our company.

First Monk

Your grace may sit secure, if none but we
Do wot of your abode.

Younger Spenser

Not one alive: but shrewdly I suspect
A gloomy fellow in a mead below;
’A gave a long look after us, my lord;
And all the land, I know, is up in arms,
Arms that pursue our lives with deadly hate.

Baldock

We were embarked for Ireland; wretched we,
With awkward winds and with sore tempests driven,
To fall on shore, and here to pine in fear
Of Mortimer and his confederates!

King Edward

Mortimer! who talks of Mortimer?
Who wounds me with the name of Mortimer,
That bloody man?⁠—Good father, on thy lap
Lay I this head, laden with mickle care.
O, might I never ope these eyes again!
Never again lift up this drooping head!
O, never more lift up this dying heart!

Younger Spenser

Look up, my lord.⁠—Baldock, this drowsiness
Betides no good; here even we are betrayed.

Enter, with Welsh hooks, Rice ap Howel, a Mower, and Leicester.

Mower
Upon my life, these be the men ye seek.

Rice ap Howel

Fellow, enough.⁠—My lord, I pray, be short;
A fair commission warrants what we do.

Leicester

The queen’s commission, urged by Mortimer:
What cannot gallant Mortimer with the queen?⁠—
Alas, see where he sits, and hopes unseen
To escape their hands that seek to reave his life!
Too true it is, Quem dies vidit veniens superbum,
Hunc dies vidit fugiens jacentem.
But, Leicester, leave to grow so passionate.⁠—
Spenser and Baldock, by no other names,
I arrest you of high treason here.
Stand not on titles, but obey the arrest:
’Tis in the name of Isabel the queen.⁠—
My lord, why droop you thus?

King Edward

O day, the last of all my bliss on earth!
Centre of all misfortune! O my stars,
Why do you lour unkindly on a king?
Comes Leicester, then, in Isabella’s name,
To take my life, my company from me?
Here, man, rip up this panting breast of mine,
And take my heart in rescue of my friends.

Rice ap Howel
Away with them!

Younger Spenser

It may become thee yet
To let us take our farewell of his grace.

Abbott

Aside. My heart with pity earns to see this sight;
A king to bear these words and proud commands!

King Edward
Spenser, ah, sweet Spenser, thus, then, must we part?

Younger Spenser
We must, my lord; so will the angry heavens.

King Edward

Nay, so will hell and cruel Mortimer:
The gentle heavens have not to do in this.

Baldock

My lord, it is in vain to grieve or storm.
Here humbly of your grace we take our leaves:
Our lots are cast; I fear me, so is thine.

King Edward

In heaven we may, in earth ne’er shall we meet:⁠—
And, Leicester, say, what shall become of us?

Leicester
Your majesty must go to Killingworth.

King Edward
Must! it is somewhat hard when kings must go.

Leicester

Here is a litter ready for your grace,
That waits your pleasure, and the day grows old.

Rice ap Howel
As good be gone, as stay and be benighted.

King Edward

A litter hast thou? lay me in a hearse,
And to the gates of hell convey me hence;
Let Pluto’s bells ring out my fatal knell,
And hags howl for my death at Charon’s shore;
For friends hath Edward none but these,
And these must die under a tyrant’s sword.

Rice ap Howel

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

King Edward

Well, that shall be shall be: part we must;
Sweet Spenser, gentle Baldock, part we must.⁠—
Hence, feigned weeds! unfeigned are my woes; Throwing off his disguise.
Father, farewell.⁠—Leicester, thou stay’st for me;
And go I must.⁠—Life, farewell, with my friends!

Exeunt King Edward and Leicester.

Younger Spenser

O! is he gone? is noble Edward gone?
Parted from hence, never to see us more!
Rend, sphere of heaven! and, fire, forsake thy orb!
Earth, melt to air! gone is my sovereign,
Gone, gone, alas, never to make return!

Baldock

Spenser, I see our souls are fleeting hence;
We are deprived the sunshine of our life.
Make for a new life, man; throw up thy eyes
And heart and hand to heaven’s immortal throne;
Pay nature’s debt with cheerful countenance;
Reduce we all our lessons unto this⁠—
To die, sweet Spenser, therefore live we all;
Spenser, all live to die, and rise to fall.

Rice ap Howel

Come, come, keep these preachments till you come to
the place appointed. You, and such as you are, have
made wise work in England. Will your lordships away?

Mow
Your lordship I trust will remember me?

Rice ap Howel
Remember thee, fellow! what else? Follow me to the town.

Exeunt.

Act V

Scene I

Kenilworth Castle.

Enter King Edward, Leicester, the Bishop of Winchester and Trussel.

Leicester

Be patient, good my lord, cease to lament;
Imagine Killingworth Castle were your court,
And that you lay for pleasure here a space,
Not of compulsion or necessity.

King Edward

Leicester, if gentle words might comfort me,
Thy speeches long ago had eased my sorrows,
For kind and loving hast thou always been.
The griefs of private men are soon allayed;
But not of kings. The forest deer, being struck,
Runs to an herb that closeth up the wounds:
But when the imperial lion’s flesh is gored,
He rends and tears it with his wrathful paw,
And, highly scorning that the lowly earth
Should drink his blood, mounts up to the air:
And so it fares with me, whose dauntless mind
The ambitious Mortimer would seek to curb,
And that unnatural queen, false Isabel,
That thus hath pent and mewed me in a prison
For such outrageous passions cloy my soul,
As with the wings of rancour and disdain
Full often am I soaring up to heaven,
To plain me to the gods against them both.
But when I call to mind I am a king,
Methinks I should revenge me of my wrongs,
That Mortimer and Isabel have done.
But what are kings, when regiment is gone,
But perfect shadows in a sunshine day?
My nobles rule; I bear the name of king,
I wear the crown; but am controlled by them,
By Mortimer, and my unconstant queen,
Who spots my nuptial bed with infamy;
Whilst I am lodged within this cave of care,
Where sorrow at my elbow still attends,
To company my heart with sad laments,
That bleeds within me for this strange exchange.
But tell me, must I now resign my crown,
To make usurping Mortimer a king?

Bishop of Winchester

Your grace mistakes; it is for England’s good,
And princely Edward’s right, we crave the crown.

King Edward

No, ’tis for Mortimer, not Edward’s head;
For he’s a lamb, encompassed by wolves,
Which in a moment will abridge his life.
But, if proud Mortimer do wear this crown,
Heavens turn it to a blaze of quenchless fire!
Or, like the snaky wreath of Tisiphon,
Engirt the temples of his hateful head!
So shall not England’s vine be perished,
But Edward’s name survive, though Edward dies.

Leicester

My lord, why waste you thus the time away?
They stay your answer: will you yield your crown?

King Edward

Ah, Leicester, weigh how hardly I can brook
To lose my crown and kingdom without cause;
To give ambitious Mortimer my right,
That, like a mountain, overwhelms my bliss;
In which extreme my mind here murdered is!
But that the heavens appoint I must obey.⁠—
Here, take my crown; the life of Edward too: Taking off the crown.
Two kings in England cannot reign at once.
But stay a while: let me be king till night,
That I may gaze upon this glittering crown;
So shall my eyes receive their last content,
My head, the latest honour due to it,
And jointly both yield up their wished right.
Continue ever, thou celestial sun;
Let never silent night possess this clime;
Stand still, you watches of the element;
All times and seasons, rest you at a stay,
That Edward may be still fair England’s king!
But day’s bright beams doth vanish fast away,
And needs I must resign my wished crown.
Inhuman creatures, nursed with tiger’s milk,
Why gape you for your sovereign’s overthrow?
My diadem, I mean, and guiltless life.
See, monsters, see! I’ll wear my crown again. Putting on the crown.
What, fear you not the fury of your king?⁠—
But, hapless Edward, thou art fondly led;
They pass not for thy frowns as late they did,
But seek to make a new-elected king;
Which fills my mind with strange despairing thoughts,
Which thoughts are martyred with endless torments;
And in this torment comfort find I none,
But that I feel the crown upon my head;
And therefore let me wear it yet a while.

Trussel

My, lord, the parliament must have present news;
And therefore say, will you resign or no?

King Edward

The king rageth. I’ll not resign, not whilst I live.
Traitors, be gone, and join you with Mortimer.
Elect, conspire, install, do what you will:
Their blood and yours shall seal these treacheries!

Bishop of Winchester
This answer we’ll return; and so, farewell. Going with Trussel.

Leicester

Call them again, my lord, and speak them fair;
For, if they go, the prince shall lose his right.

King Edward
Call thou them back; I have no power to speak.

Leicester
My lord, the king is willing to resign.

Bishop of Winchester
If he be not, let him choose.

King Edward

O, would I might! but heavens and earth conspire
To make me miserable. Here, receive my crown.
Receive it? no, these innocent hands of mine
Shall not be guilty of so foul a crime;
He of you all that most desires my blood,
And will be called the murderer of a king,
Take it. What, are you moved? pity you me?
Then send for unrelenting Mortimer,
And Isabel, whose eyes being turned to steel
Will sooner sparkle fire than shed a tear.
Yet stay; for, rather than I’ll look on them,
Here, here! Gives the crown.
Now, sweet God of heaven,
Make me despise this transitory pomp,
And sit for aye enthronised in heaven!
Come, death, and with thy fingers close my eyes,
Or, if I live, let me forget myself!

Bishop of Winchester
My lord⁠—

King Edward

Call me not lord; away, out of my sight!
Ah, pardon me! grief makes me lunatic.
Let not that Mortimer protect my son;
More safety there is in a tiger’s jaws
Than his embracements. Bear this to the queen,
Wet with my tears, and dried again with sighs: Gives a handkerchief.
If with the sight thereof she be not moved,
Return it back, and dip it in my blood.
Commend me to my son, and bid him rule
Better than I: yet how have I transgressed,
Unless it be with too much clemency?

Trussel
And thus, most humbly do we take our leave.

Exeunt the Bishop of Winchester and Trussel with the crown.

King Edward

Farewell; I know the next news that they bring
Will be my death; and welcome shall it be:
To wretched men death is felicity.

Enter Berkeley, who gives a paper to Leicester.

Leicester
Another post! what news brings he?

King Edward

Such news as I expect.⁠—Come, Berkeley, come,
And tell thy message to my naked breast.

Berkeley

My lord, think not a thought so villainous
Can harbour in a man of noble birth.
To do your highness service and devoir,
And save you from your foes, Berkeley would die.

Leicester

My lord, the council of the queen command
That I resign my charge.

King Edward
And who must keep me now? Must you, my lord?

Berkeley
Ay, my most gracious lord; so ’tis decreed.

King Edward

Taking the paper. By Mortimer, whose name is written here!
Well may I rent his name that rends my heart. Tears it.
This poor revenge hath something eased my mind:
So may his limbs be torn as is this paper!
Hear me, immortal Jove, and grant it too!

Berkeley
Your grace must hence with me to Berkeley straight.

King Edward

Whither you will: all places are alike,
And every earth is fit for burial.

Leicester
Favour him, my lord, as much as lieth in you.

Berkeley
Even so betide my soul as I use him!

King Edward

Mine enemy hath pitied my estate,
And that’s the cause that I am now removed.

Berkeley
And thinks your grace that Berkeley will be cruel?

King Edward

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 lord; I’ll bear you on your way.

Exeunt.

Scene II

The Royal Palace, London.

Enter Queen Isabella and the Younger Mortimer.

Younger Mortimer

Fair Isabel, now have we our desire;
The proud corrupters of the light-brained king
Have done their homage to the lofty gallows,
And he himself lies in captivity.
Be ruled by me, and we will rule the realm:
In any case take heed of childish fear,
For now we hold an old wolf by the ears,
That, if he slip, will seize upon us both,
And gripe the sorer, being griped himself.
Think therefore, madam, that imports us much
To erect your son with all the speed we may,
And that I be protector over him:
For our behoof, ’twill bear the greater sway
Whenas a king’s name shall be under-writ.

Queen Isabella

Sweet Mortimer, the life of Isabel,
Be thou persuaded that I love thee well;
And therefore, so the prince my son be safe,
Whom I esteem as dear as these mine eyes,
Conclude against his father what thou wilt,
And I myself will willingly subscribe.

Younger Mortimer

First would I hear news he were deposed,
And then let me alone to handle him.

Enter Messenger.

Letters! from whence?

Messenger
From Killingworth, my lord.

Queen Isabella
How fares my lord the king?

Messenger
In health, madam, but full of pensiveness.

Queen Isabella
Alas, poor soul, would I could ease his grief!

Enter the Bishop of Winchester with the crown.

Thanks, gentle Winchester.⁠—
Sirrah, be gone.

Exit Messenger.

Bishop of Winchester
The king hath willingly resigned his crown.

Queen Isabella
O, happy news! send for the prince my son.

Bishop of Winchester

Further, or this letter was sealed, Lord Berkeley came,
So that he now is gone from Killingworth;
And we have heard that Edmund laid a plot
To set his brother free; nor more but so.
The Lord of Berkeley is so pitiful
As Leicester that had charge of him before.

Queen Isabella
Then let some other be his guardian.

Younger Mortimer

Let me alone; here is the privy-seal.

Exit the Bishop of Winchester.

To Attendants within. Who’s there? Call hither, Gurney and Matrevis.⁠—

To dash the heavy-headed Edmund’s drift,
Berkeley shall be discharged, the king removed,
And none but we shall know where he lieth.

Queen Isabella

But, Mortimer, as long as he survives,
What safety rests for us or for my son?

Younger Mortimer
Speak, shall he presently be despatched and die?

Queen Isabella

I would he were, so ’twere not by my means!

Enter Matrevis and Gurney.

Younger Mortimer

Enough.⁠—Matrevis, write a letter presently
Unto the Lord of Berkeley from ourself,
That he resign the king to thee and Gurney;
And, when ’tis done, we will subscribe our name.

Matrevis

It shall be done, my lord. Writes.

Younger Mortimer
Gurney⁠—

Gurney
My lord?

Younger Mortimer

As thou intend’st to rise by Mortimer,
Who now makes Fortune’s wheel turn as he please,
Seek all the means thou canst to make him droop,
And neither give him kind word nor good look.

Gurney
I warrant you, my lord.

Younger Mortimer

And this above the rest: because we hear
That Edmund casts to work his liberty,
Remove him still from place to place by night,
Till at the last he come to Killingworth,
And then from thence to Berkeley back again;
And by the way, to make him fret the more,
Speak curstly to him; and in any case
Let no man comfort him, if he chance to weep,
But amplify his grief with bitter words.

Matrevis
Fear not, my lord; we’ll do as you command.

Younger Mortimer
So, now away! post thitherwards amain.

Queen Isabella

Whither goes this letter? to my lord the king?
Commend me humbly to his majesty,
And tell him that I labour all in vain
To ease his grief and work his liberty;
And bear him this as witness of my love. Gives ring.

Matrevis

I will, madam. Exit with Gurney.

Younger Mortimer

Finely dissembled! do so still, sweet queen.
Here comes the young prince with the Earl of Kent.

Queen Isabella

Something he whispers in his childish ears.

Younger Mortimer

If he have such access unto the prince,
Our plots and stratagems will soon be dashed.

Queen Isabella
Use Edmund friendly, as if all were well.

Enter Prince Edward, and Kent talking with him.

Younger Mortimer
How fares my honourable Lord of Kent?

Kent
In health, sweet Mortimer.⁠—How fares your grace?

Queen Isabella
Well, if my lord your brother were enlarged.

Kent
I hear of late he hath deposed himself.

Queen Isabella
The more my grief.

Younger Mortimer
And mine.

Kent
Aside. Ah, they do dissemble!

Queen Isabella
Sweet son, come hither; I must talk with thee.

Younger Mortimer

You, being his uncle and the next of blood,
Do look to be protector o’er the prince.

Kent

Not I, my lord: who should protect the son,
But she that gave him life? I mean the queen.

Prince Edward

Mother, persuade me not to wear the crown:
Let him be king; I am too young to reign.

Queen Isabella
But be content, seeing ’tis his highness’ pleasure.

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

Kent
Ay, do, sweet nephew.

Queen Isabella
Brother, you know it is impossible.

Prince Edward
Why, is he dead?

Queen Isabella
No, God forbid!

Kent
I would those words proceeded from your heart!

Younger Mortimer

Inconstant Edmund, dost thou favour him,
That wast a cause of his imprisonment?

Kent
The more cause now have I to make amends.

Younger Mortimer

Aside to Queen Isabella. I tell thee, ’tis not meet that one so false
Should come about the person of a prince.⁠—
My lord, he hath betrayed the king his brother,
And therefore trust him not.

Prince Edward
But he repents, and sorrows for it now.

Queen Isabella
Come, son, and go with this gentle lord and me.

Prince Edward
With you I will, but not with Mortimer.

Younger Mortimer

Why, youngling, ’sdain’st thou so of Mortimer?
Then I will carry thee by force away.

Prince Edward
Help, uncle Kent! Mortimer will wrong me.

Queen Isabella

Brother Edmund, strive not; we are his friends;
Isabel is nearer than the Earl of Kent.

Kent
Sister, Edward is my charge; redeem him.

Queen Isabella
Edward is my son, and I will keep him.

Kent

Aside. Mortimer shall know that he hath wronged me.
Hence will I haste to Killingworth Castle,
And rescue aged Edward from his foes,
To be revenged on Mortimer and thee.

Exeunt, on the one side, Queen Isabella, Prince Edward, and the Younger Mortimer; on other other, Kent.

Scene III

Near Kenilworth Castle.

Enter Matrevis, Gurney, and Soldiers, with King Edward.

Matrevis

My lord, be not pensive; we are your friends:
Men are ordained to live in misery;
Therefore, come; dalliance dangereth our lives.

King Edward

Friends, whither must unhappy Edward go?
Will hateful Mortimer appoint no rest?
Must I be vexed like the nightly bird,
Whose sight is loathsome to all winged fowls?
When will the fury of his mind assuage?
When will his heart be satisfied with blood?
If mine will serve, unbowel straight this breast,
And give my heart to Isabel and him:
It is the chiefest mark they level at.

Gurney

Not so, my liege: the queen hath given this charge,
To keep your grace in safety:
Your passions make your dolours to increase.

King Edward

This usage makes my misery increase.
But can my air of life continue long,
When all my senses are annoyed with stench?
Within a dungeon England’s king is kept,
Where I am starved for want of sustenance;
My daily diet is heartbreaking sobs,
That almost rent the closet of my heart:
Thus lives old Edward not relieved by any,
And so must die, though pitied by many.
O, water, gentle friends, to cool my thirst,
And clear my body from foul excrements!

Matrevis

Here’s channel-water, as our charge is given:
Sit down, for we’ll be barbers to your grace.

King Edward

Traitors, away! what, will you murder me,
Or choke your sovereign with puddle-water?

Gurney

No, but wash your face, and shave away your beard,
Lest you be known, and so be rescued.

Matrevis
Why strive you thus? your labour is in vain!

King Edward

f The wren may strive against the lion’s strength,
But all in vain: so vainly do I strive
To seek for mercy at a tyrant’s hand.

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

Immortal powers, that know the painful cares
That wait upon my poor distressed soul,
O, level all your looks upon these daring men
That wrong their liege and sovereign, England’s king!
O Gaveston, it is for thee that I am wronged!
For me both thou and both the Spensers died;
And for your sakes a thousand wrongs I’ll take.
The Spensers’ ghosts, wherever they remain,
Wish well to mine; then, tush, for them I’ll die.

Matrevis

’Twixt theirs and yours shall be no enmity.
Come, come, away! Now put the torches out:
We’ll enter in by darkness to Killingworth.

Gurney
How now! who comes there?

Enter Kent.

Matrevis
Guard the king sure: it is the Earl of Kent.

King Edward
O gentle brother, help to rescue me!

Matrevis
Keep them asunder; thrust in the king.

Kent
Soldiers, let me but talk to him one word.

Gurney
Lay hands upon the earl for his assault.

Kent
Lay down your weapons, traitors! yield the king!

Matrevis
Edmund, yield thou thyself, or thou shalt die.

Kent
Base villains, wherefore do you gripe me thus?

Gurney
Bind him, and so convey him to the court.

Kent

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

Matrevis

The court is where Lord Mortimer remains:
Thither shall your honour go; and so, farewell.

Exeunt Matrevis and Gurney with King Edward.

Kent

O, miserable is that commonweal,
Where lords keep courts, and kings are locked in prison!

First Soldier
Wherefore stay we? on, sirs, to the court!

Kent

Ay, lead me whither you will, even to my death,
Seeing that my brother cannot be released.

Exeunt.

Scene IV

The Royal Palace, London.

Enter the Younger Mortimer.

Younger Mortimer

The king must die, or Mortimer goes down;
The commons now begin to pity him:
Yet he that is the cause of Edward’s death,
Is sure to pay for it when his son’s of age;
And therefore will I do it cunningly.
This letter, written by a friend of ours,
Contains his death, yet bids then save his life.
Reads. “Edwardum occidere nolite timere, bonum est,
Fear not to kill the king, ’tis good he die.”
But read it thus, and that’s another sense;
“Edwardum occidere nolite, timere bonum est,
Kill not the king, ’tis good to fear the worst.”
Unpointed as it is, thus shall it go.
That, being dead, if it chance to be found,
Matrevis and the rest may bear the blame,
And we be quit that caused it to be done.
Within this room is locked the messenger
That shall convey it, and perform the rest;
And, by a secret token that he bears,
Shall he be murdered when the deed is done.⁠—
Lightborn, come forth!

Enter Lightborn.

Art thou so resolute as thou wast?

Lightborn
What else, my lord? and far more resolute.

Younger Mortimer
And hast thou cast how to accomplish it?

Lightborn
Ay, ay; and none shall know which way he died.

Younger Mortimer
But at his looks, Lightborn, thou wilt relent.

Lightborn
Relent! ha, ha! I use much to relent.

Younger Mortimer
Well, do it bravely, and be secret.

Lightborn

You shall not need to give instructions;
’Tis not the first time I have killed a man:
I learned in Naples how to poison flowers;
To strangle with a lawn thrust down the throat;
To pierce the wind pipe with a needle’s point;
Or, whilst one is asleep, to take a quill,
And blow a little powder in his ears;
Or open his mouth, and pour quicksilver down.
But yet I have a braver way than these.

Younger Mortimer
What’s that?

Lightborn
Nay, you shall pardon me; none shall know my tricks.

Younger Mortimer

I care not how it is, so it be not spied.
Deliver this to Gurney and Matrevis: Gives letter.
At every ten-mile end thou hast a horse:
Take this: Gives money. away, and never see me more!

Lightborn
No?

Younger Mortimer
No; unless thou bring me news of Edward’s death.

Lightborn
That will I quickly do. Farewell, my lord. Exit.

Younger Mortimer

The prince I rule, the queen do I command,
And with a lowly congé to the ground
The proudest lords salute me as I pass;
I seal, I cancel, I do what I will.
Feared am I more than loved;⁠—let me be feared,
And, when I frown, make all the court look pale.
I view the prince with Aristarchus’ eyes,
Whose looks were as a breeching to a boy.
They thrust upon me the protectorship,
And sue to me for that that I desire;
While at the council-table, grave enough,
And not unlike a bashful puritan,
First I complain of imbecility,
Saying it is onus quam gravissimum;
Till, being interrupted by my friends,
Suscepi that provinciam, as they term it;
And, to conclude, I am Protector now.
Now all is sure: the queen and Mortimer
Shall rule the realm, the king; and none rule us.
Mine enemies will I plague, my friends advance;
And what I list command who dare control?
Major sum quam cui possit fortuna nocere:
And that this be the coronation-day,
It pleaseth me and Isabel the queen. Trumpets within.
The trumpets sound; I must go take my place.

Enter King Edward III, Queen Isabella, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Champion, and Nobles.

Archbishop of Canterbury

Long live King Edward, by the grace of God
King of England and Lord of Ireland!

Champion

If any Christian, Heathen, Turk, or Jew,
Dares but affirm that Edward’s not true king,
And will avouch his saying with the sword,
I am the Champion that will combat him.

Younger Mortimer
None comes: sound, trumpets! Trumpets.

King Edward III
Champion, here’s to thee. Gives purse.

Queen Isabella
Lord Mortimer, now take him to your charge.

Enter Soldiers with Kent prisoner.

Younger Mortimer
What traitor have we there with blades and bills?

First Soldier
Edmund, the Earl of Kent.

King Edward III
What hath he done?

First Soldier

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

Younger Mortimer
Did you attempt his rescue, Edmund? speak.

Kent

Mortimer, I did: he is our king,
And thou compell’st this prince to wear the crown.

Younger Mortimer
Strike off his head: he shall have martial law.

Kent
Strike off my head! base traitor, I defy thee!

King Edward III
My lord, he is my uncle, and shall live.

Younger Mortimer
My lord, he is your enemy, and shall die.

Kent
Stay, villains!

King Edward III

Sweet mother, if I cannot pardon him,
Entreat my Lord Protector for his life.

Queen Isabella
Son, be content: I dare not speak a word.

King Edward III

Nor I; and yet methinks I should command:
But, seeing I cannot, I’ll entreat for him.⁠—
My lord, if you will let my uncle live,
I will requite it when I come to age.

Younger Mortimer

’Tis for your highness’ good and for the realm’s.⁠—
How often shall I bid you bear him hence?

Kent
Art thou king? must I die at thy command?

Younger Mortimer
At our command.⁠—Once more, away with him!

Kent

Let me but stay and speak; I will not go:
Either my brother or his son is king,
And none of both them thirst for Edmund’s blood:
And therefore, soldiers, whither will you hale me?

Soldiers hale Kent away, and carry him to be beheaded.

King Edward III

What safety may I look for at his hands,
If that my uncle shall be murdered thus?

Queen Isabella

Fear not, sweet boy; I’ll guard thee from thy foes:
Had Edmund lived, he would have sought thy death.
Come, son, we’ll ride a-hunting in the park.

King Edward III
And shall my uncle Edmund ride with us?

Queen Isabella
He is a traitor; think not on him: come.

Exeunt.

Scene V

Berkeley Castle.

Enter Matrevis and Gurney.

Matrevis

Gurney, I wonder the king dies not,
Being in a vault up to the knees in water,
To which the channels of the castle run,
From whence a damp continually ariseth,
That were enough to poison any man,
Much more a king, brought up so tenderly.

Gurney

And so do I, Matrevis: yesternight
I opened but the door to throw him meat,
And I was almost stifled with the savour.

Matrevis

He hath a body able to endure
More than we can inflict: and therefore now
Let us assail his mind another while.

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

Matrevis

But stay; who’s this?

Enter Lightborn.

Lightborn
My Lord Protector greets you. Gives letter.

Gurney
What’s there? I know not how to construe it.

Matrevis

Gurney, it was left unpointed for the nonce;
“Edwardum occidere nolite timere,”
That’s his meaning.

Lightborn
Know you this token? I must have the king. Gives token.

Matrevis

Ay, stay a while; thou shalt have answer straight.⁠—
Aside. This villain’s sent to make away the king.

Gurney
Aside. I thought as much.

Matrevis

Aside. And when the murder’s done,
See how he must be handled for his labour⁠—
Pereat iste! Let him have the king;

What else?⁠—Here is the keys, this is the lake:
Do as you are commanded by my lord.

Lightborn

I know what I must do. Get you away:
Yet be not far off; I shall need your help:
See that in the next room I have a fire,
And get me a spit, and let it be red-hot.

Matrevis
Very well.

Gurney
Need you anything besides?

Lightborn
What else? a table and a featherbed.

Gurney
That’s all?

Lightborn
Ay, ay: so, when I call you, bring it in.

Matrevis
Fear not thou that.

Gurney
Here’s a light to go into the dungeon.

Gives light to Lightborn, and then exit with Matrevis.

Lightborn

So, now.
Must I about this gear: ne’er was there any
So finely handled as this king shall be.⁠—
Foh, here’s a place indeed with all my heart!

King Edward
Who’s there? what light is that? wherefore com’st thou?

Lightborn
To comfort you, and bring you joyful news.

King Edward

Small comfort finds poor Edward in thy looks:
Villain, I know thou com’st to murder me.

Lightborn

To murder you, my most gracious lord?
Far is it from my heart to do you harm.
The queen sent me to see how you were used,
For she relents at this your misery:
And what eye can refrain from shedding tears,
To see a king in this most piteous state?

King Edward

Weep’st thou already? list a while to me,
And then thy heart, were it as Gurney’s is,
Or as Matrevis’, hewn from the Caucasus,
Yet will it melt ere I have done my tale.
This dungeon where they keep me is the sink
Wherein the filth of all the castle falls.

Lightborn
O villains!

King Edward

And there, in mire and puddle, have I stood
This ten days’ space; and, lest that I should sleep,
One plays continually upon a drum;
They give me bread and water, being a king;
So that, for want of sleep and sustenance,
My mind’s distempered, and my body’s numbed,
And whether I have limbs or no I know not.
O, would my blood dropped out from every vein,
As doth this water from my tattered robes!
Tell Isabel the queen, I looked not thus,
When for her sake I ran at tilt in France,
And there unhorsed the Duke of Cleremont.

Lightborn

O, speak no more, my lord! this breaks my heart.
Lie on this bed, and rest yourself a while.

King Edward

These looks of thine can harbour naught but death;
I see my tragedy written in thy brows.
Yet stay a while; forbear thy bloody hand,
And let me see the stroke before it comes,
That even then when I shall lose my life,
My mind may be more steadfast on my God.

Lightborn
What means your highness to mistrust me thus?

King Edward
What mean’st thou to dissemble with me thus?

Lightborn

These hands were never stained with innocent blood,
Nor shall they now be tainted with a king’s.

King Edward

Forgive my thought for having such a thought.
One jewel have I left; receive thou this. Gives jewel.
Still fear I, and I know not what’s the cause,
But every joint shakes as I give it thee.
O, if thou harbour’st murder in thy heart,
Let this gift change thy mind, and save thy soul!
Know that I am a king: O, at that name
I feel a hell of grief! where is my crown?
Gone, gone! and do I still remain alive?

Lightborn
You’re overwatched, my lord: lie down and rest.

King Edward

But that grief keeps me waking, I should sleep;
For not these ten days have these eyelids closed.
Now, as I speak, they fall; and yet with fear
Open again. O, wherefore sittest thou here?

Lightborn
If you mistrust me, I’ll be gone, my lord.

King Edward

No, no; for, if thou mean’st to murder me,
Thou wilt return again; and therefore stay. Sleeps.

Lightborn
He sleeps.

King Edward

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

Lightborn
How now, my lord?

King Edward

Something still buzzeth in mine ears,
And tells me, if I sleep, I never wake:
This fear is that which makes me tremble thus;
And therefore tell me, wherefore art thou come?

Lightborn
To rid thee of thy life.⁠—Matrevis, come!

Enter Matrevis and Gurney.

King Edward

I am too weak and feeble to resist.⁠—
Assist me, sweet God, and receive my soul!

Lightborn
Run for the table.

King Edward
O, spare me, or despatch me in a trice!

Matrevis brings in a table.

Lightborn

So, lay the table down, and stamp on it,
But not too hard, lest that you bruise his body.

King Edward is murdered.

Matrevis

I fear me that this cry will raise the town,
And therefore let us take horse and away.

Lightborn
Tell me, sirs, was it not bravely done?

Gurney

Excellent well: take this for thy reward. Stabs Lightborn, who dies.
Come, let us cast the body in the moat,
And bear the king’s to Mortimer our lord:
Away!

Exeunt with the bodies.

Scene VI

The Royal Palace, London.

Enter the Younger Mortimer and Matrevis.

Younger Mortimer

Is’t done, Matrevis, and the murderer dead?

Matrevis
Ay, my good lord: I would it were undone!

Younger Mortimer

Matrevis, if thou now grow’st penitent,
I’ll be thy ghostly father; therefore choose,
Whether thou wilt be secret in this,
Or else die by the hand of Mortimer.

Matrevis

Gurney, my lord, is fled, and will, I fear,
Betray us both; therefore let me fly.

Younger Mortimer
Fly to the savages!

Matrevis
I humbly thank your honour. Exit.

Younger Mortimer

As for myself, I stand as Jove’s huge tree,
And others are but shrubs compared to me:
All tremble at my name, and I fear none:
Let’s see who dare impeach me for his death!

Enter Queen Isabella.

Queen Isabella

Ah, Mortimer, the king my son hath news,
His father’s dead, and we have murdered him!

Younger Mortimer
What if he have? the king is yet a child.

Queen Isabella

Ay, but he tears his hair, and wrings his hands,
And vows to be revenged upon us both.
Into the council-chamber he is gone,
To crave the aid and succour of his peers.
Ay me, see where he comes, and they with him!
Now, Mortimer, begins our tragedy.

Enter King Edward III, Lords, and Attendants.

First Lord
Fear not, my lord; know that you are a king.

King Edward III
Villain!⁠—

Younger Mortimer
Ho, now, my lord!

King Edward III

Think not that I am frighted with thy words:
My father’s murdered through thy treachery;
And thou shalt die, and on his mournful hearse
Thy hateful and accursed head shall lie,
To witness to the world that by thy means
His kingly body was too soon interred.

Queen Isabella
Weep not, sweet son.

King Edward III

Forbid not me to weep; he was my father;
And had you loved him half so well as I,
You could not bear his death thus patiently:
But you, I fear, conspired with Mortimer.

First Lord
Why speak you not unto my lord the king?

Younger Mortimer

Because I think scorn to be accused.
Who is the man dares say I murdered him?

King Edward III

Traitor, in me my loving father speaks,
And plainly saith, ’twas thou that murderedst him.

Younger Mortimer
But hath your grace no other proof than this?

King Edward III
Yes, if this be the hand of Mortimer. Showing letter.

Younger Mortimer
Aside to Queen Isabella. False Gurney hath betrayed me and himself.

Queen Isabella
I feared as much: murder can not be hid.

Younger Mortimer
It is my hand; what gather you by this?

King Edward III
That thither thou didst send a murderer.

Younger Mortimer
What murderer? bring forth the man I sent.

King Edward III

Ah, Mortimer, thou know’st that he is slain!
And so shalt thou be too.⁠—Why stays he here?
Bring him unto a hurdle, drag him forth;
Hang him, I say, and set his quarters up:
And bring his head back presently to me.

Queen Isabella
For my sake, sweet son, pity Mortimer!

Younger Mortimer

Madam, entreat not: I will rather die
Than sue for life unto a paltry boy.

King Edward III
Hence with the traitor, with the murderer!

Younger Mortimer

Base Fortune, now I see, that in thy wheel
There is a point, to which when men aspire,
They tumble headlong down: that point I touched,
And, seeing there was no place to mount up higher,
Why should I grieve at my declining fall?⁠—
Farewell, fair queen: weep not for Mortimer,
That scorns the world, and, as a traveller,
Goes to discover countries yet unknown.

King Edward III
What, suffer you the traitor to delay?

Exit the Younger Mortimer with First Lord and some of the Attendants.

Queen Isabella

As thou receivest thy life from me,
Spill not the blood of gentle Mortimer!

King Edward III

This argues that you spilt my father’s blood,
Else would you not entreat for Mortimer.

Queen Isabella
I spill his blood! no.

King Edward III
Ay, madam, you; for so the rumour runs.

Queen Isabella

That rumour is untrue: for loving thee,
Is this report raised on poor Isabel.

King Edward III
I do not think her so unnatural.

Second Lord
My lord, I fear me it will prove too true.

King Edward III

Mother, you are suspected for his death
And therefore we commit you to the Tower,
Till further trial may be made thereof.
If you be guilty, though I be your son,
Think not to find me slack or pitiful.

Queen Isabella

Nay, to my death; for too long have I lived,
Whenas my son thinks to abridge my days.

King Edward III

Away with her! her words enforce these tears,
And I shall pity her, if she speak again.

Queen Isabella

Shall I not mourn for my beloved lord?
And with the rest accompany him to his grave.

Second Lord
Thus, madam, ’tis the king’s will you shall hence.

Queen Isabella
He hath forgotten me: stay; I am his mother.

Second Lord
That boots not; therefore, gentle madam, go.

Queen Isabella
Then come, sweet death, and rid me of this grief! Exit with Second Lord and some of the Attendants.

Reenter First Lord, with the head of the Younger Mortimer.

First Lord

My lord, here is the head of Mortimer.

King Edward III

Go fetch my father’s hearse, where it shall lie;
And bring my funeral robes.

Exeunt Attendants.

Accursed head,
Could I have ruled thee then, as I do now,
Thou hadst not hatched this monstrous treachery!⁠—
Here comes the hearse: help me to mourn, my lords.

Reenter Attendants, with the hearse and funeral robes.

Sweet father, here unto thy murdered ghost
I offer up the wicked traitor’s head;
And let these tears, distilling from mine eyes,
Be witness of my grief and innocency.

Exeunt.

Colophon

Edward II
was published in 1593 by
Christopher Marlowe.

Ryan Ten
sponsored the production of this ebook for
Standard Ebooks.
by
Alex Cabal,
and is based on a transcription produced in 2007 by
Gustavo Daniel Queipo
for
Project Gutenberg
and on digital scans from
Google Books.

The cover page is adapted from
Edward II and Gaveston,
a painting completed in 1872 by
Marcus Stone.
The cover and title pages feature the
League Spartan and Sorts Mill Goudy
typefaces created in 2014 and 2009 by
The League of Moveable Type.

This edition was released on
February 4, 2026, 8:15 p.m.
and is based on
revision 65d360f.
The first edition of this ebook was released on
August 23, 2024, 7:01 p.m.
You can check for updates to this ebook, view its revision history, or download it for different ereading systems at
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