Nor shall they now be tainted with a king's. EDW. Forgive my thought, for having such a thought. One jewel have I left, receive thou this. Still fear I, and I know not what's the cause, But every joint shakes as I give it thee. Let this gift change thy mind, and save thy soul! LIGHT. You're overwatch'd, my lord; lie down and rest. EDW. But that grief keeps me waking, I should sleep; For not these ten days have these eye-lids clos'd. LIGHT. If you mistrust me, I'll be gone, my lord. EDW. No, no, for if thou mean'st to murder me. Thou wilt return again, and therefore stay. LIGHT. He sleeps. EDW. O let me not die; yet stay, oh stay a while. LIGHT. How now, my lord? EDW. 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? LIGHT. To rid thee of thy life; Matrevis, come. Enter MATREVIS and GURNEY. EDW. I am too weak and feeble to resist : Assist me, sweet God, and receive LIGHT. Run for the table. my soul. EDW. O spare me, or dispatch me in a trice. LIGHT. So, lay the table down, and stamp on it, But not too hard, lest thou bruise his body. MAT. I fear me that this cry will raise the town, And therefore let us take horse and away. LIGHT. Tell me, sirs, was it not bravely done? GUR. Excellent well; take this for thy reward. [Gurney stabs Lightborn. Come, let us cast the body in the moat, And bear the king's to Mortimer our lord: away. [Exeunt omnes. SCENE VI. Enter MORTIMER and MATREVIS. Y. MOR. Is't done, Matrevis, and the murderer dead? MAT. Aye, my good lord; I would it were undone. Y. MOR. Matrevis, if thou now growest penitent I'll be thy ghostly father; therefore chuse, Whether thou wilt be secret in this, Or else die by the hand of Mortimer. MAT. Gurney, my lord, is fled, and will, I fear, Betray us both, therefore let me fly. Y. MOR. Fly to the savages. Y. MOR. As for myself, I stand as Jove's huge tree; And others are but shrubs compared to me. QUEEN. Ah, Mortimer, the king my son hath news, QUEEN. Aye, aye, but he tears his hair, and wrings his hands, And vows to be reveng'd upon us both. Into the council-chamber he is gone, To crave the aid and succour of his peers. Ah me! see where he comes, and they with him; Enter the KING, with the Lords. LORDS. Fear not, my lord, know that you are a king. KING. Villain! Y. MOR. How now, my lord? KING. Think not that I am frightened with thy words! My father's murder'd 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 QUEEN. Weep not, sweet son! KING. Forbid not me to weep, he was my father; And, had you lov'd him half so well as I, You could not bear his death thus patiently. But you, I fear, conspir'd with Mortimer. LORDS. Why speak you not unto my lord the king? Y. MOR. Because I think scorn to be accus'd. Who is the man dares say I murder'd him? KING. Traitor! in me my loving father speaks, And plainly saith, 'twas thou that murderest him. Y. MOR. But hath your grace no other proof than this? KING. Yes, if this be the hand of Mortimer. Y. MOR. False Gurney hath betray'd me and himself. QUEEN. I fear'd as much; murder cannot be hid. Y. MOR. 'Tis my hand; what gather you by this? KING. That thither thou did'st send a murderer. Y. MOR. What murderer? Bring forth the man I sent. KING. Aye, Mortimer, thou know'st that he is slain; And so shalt thou be too. Why stays he here? But bring his head back presently to me. QUEEN. For my sake, sweet son, pity Mortimer. Y. MOR. Madam, intreat not, I will rather die, Than sue for life unto a paltry boy. KING. Hence with the traitor! with the mur derer! Y. MOR. 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 touch'd, QUEEN. As thou received'st thy life from me, KING. This argues that you spilt my father's blood, Else would you not intreat for Mortimer. QUEEN. I spill his blood? no. KING. Aye, madam, you; for so the rumour runs. QUEEN. That rumour is untrue; for loving thee, Is this report rais'd on poor Isabel? KING. I do not think her so unnatural. LORD. My lord, I fear me it will prove too true. |