Enter the BARONS, MORTIMER, LANCASTER,
WARWICK, PEMPROKE, &c.

E. MOR. Look, Lancaster, yonder's Edward 'mong his flatterers.

LAN. And there let him be till he pay dearly for their company.

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

EDW. What, rebels, do you shrink and sound retreat?

Y. MOR. No, Edward, nc, thy flatterers faint and fly.

LAN. They'd best betimes forsake thee, and their trains,

For they'll betray thee, traitors as they are.

Y. SPEN. Traitor on thy face, rebellious Lancaster! PEM. Away, base upstart, brav'st thou nobles thus? O. SPEN. A noble attempt, and honourable deed, Is it not, trow ye, to assemble aid,

And levy arms against your lawful king!

Edw. For which ere long their heads shall satisfy, Tappease the wrath of their offended king.

Y. MOR. Then, Edward, thou wilt fight it to the last,

And rather bathe thy sword in subjects' blood,
Than banish that pernicious company?

EDW. Aye, traitors all, rather than thus be brav'd,
Make England's civil towns huge heaps of stones,
And ploughs to go about our palace-gates.
WAR. A desperate and unnatural resolution!

VOL. II.

5

Alarum to the fight, St. George for England,
And the barons' right.

EDW. St. George for England, and king Edward's

right.

[Alarums. Exeunt. Re-enter EDWARD and his followers, with the

BARONS, captives.

EDW. Now, lusty lords, not by the chance of

war,

But justice of the quarrel and the cause,

Vail'd is your pride; methinks you hang the heads,
But we'll advance them, traitors; now 'tis time
To be aveng'd 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.

EDW. So, sir, you have spoke; away, avoid our presence!

Accursed wretches, was't in regard of us,

When we had sent our messengers to request
He might be spar'd to come to speak with us,
And Pembroke undertook for his return,
That thou, proud Warwick, watch'd the prisoner,
Poor Pierce, and headed him 'gainst law of arms;
For which thy head shall overlook the rest,
As much as thou outwent'st the rest.

WAR. Tyrant, I scorn thy threats and menaces,

It is but temporal that thou canst inflict.

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

EDW. Away with them! my lord of Winchester: These lusty leaders, Warwick and Lancaster, I charge you roundly-off with both their heads; away!

WAR. Farewell, vain world!

LAN. Sweet Mortimer, farewell.

Y. MOR. England, unkind to thy nobility,
Groan for this grief, behold how thou art maim'd!
EDW. Go, take that haughty Mortimer to the
Tower,

There see him safe bestow'd; and for the rest,
Do speedy execution on them all. Begone!

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

EDW. Sound drums and trumpets, march with me my friends.

Edward this day hath crown'd him king anew.

[Exeunt. Young Spencer, Lecune, and Baldock

remain.

Y. SPEN. Lecune, the trust that we repose in thee, Begets the quiet of king Edward's land. Therefore begone in haste, and with advice Bestow that treasure on the lords of France, That, therewith all enchanted, like the guard That suffer'd Jove to pass in showers of gold

To Danaë, 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.

LECUNE. That's it these barons and the subtle

queen

Long levied at.

BAL. Yea, but, Lecune, thou seest,

These barons lay their heads on blocks together;
What they intend, the hangman frustrates clean.
LECUNE. 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.

Y. SPEN. Then make for France, amain-Lecune,

away!

Proclaim king Edward's wars and victories.

[Exeunt omnes.

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

Enter KENT.

KENT. Fair blows the wind for France; blow

gentle gale,

Till Edmund be arriv'd 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 noble men

And cherish flatterers! Mortimer, I stay

Thy sweet escape; stand gracious, gloomy night, to his device.

Enter Young MORTIMER disguised.

Y. MOR. Holloa! who walketh there? is't you, my lord?

KENT. Mortimer, 'tis I; but hath my potion wrought so happily?

Y. MOR. 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.

Enter the QUEEN and her SON.

QUEEN. Ah, boy! our friends do fail us all in

France;

The lords are cruel, and the king unkind;

What shall we do?

PRINCE. 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;
He loves me better than a thousand Spencers.

QUEEN. Ah, boy, thou art deceiv'd, at least in this,