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

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

MOR. My lord of Kent, what needs these ques

tions?

"Tis not in her controulment, 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. My lord, the mayor of Bristol knows our
mind.

Y. MOR. Yea, madam, and they 'scape not easily That fled the field.

QUEEN. Baldock is with the king,

A goodly chancellor, is he not my lord?

SIR J. So are the Spencers, the father, and the

son.

KENT. This Edward is the ruin of the realm.

Enter RICE AP HOWELL, and the MAYOR of BRISTOL, with Old SPENCER.

RICE. God save queen Isabel, and her princely

son!

Madam, the mayor and citizens of Bristol,

In sign of love and duty to this presence,
Present by me this traitor to the state,
Spencer, the father to that wanton Spencer,
That like the lawless Catiline of Rome,
Revell'd in England's wealth and treasury.
QUEEN. We thank you all.

Y. MOR. Your loving care in this
Deserveth princely favours and rewards.
But where's the king and the other Spencer fled?

RICE. Spencer the son, created earl of Glou'ster, Is with that smooth-tongu'd scholar Baldock gone, And shipp'd but late for Ireland with the king.

Y. MOR. Some whirlwind fetch them back or sink

them all!

[Aside.

They shall be started thence, I doubt it not. PRINCE. Shall I not see the king my father yet?

KENT. Unhappy Edward, chas'd from England's bounds.

SIR J. Madam, what resteth, why stand ye in a muse?

QUEEN. I rue my lord's ill-fortune; but alas! Care of my country call'd me to this war.

Y. MOR. Madam, have done with care and sad complaint;

Your king hath wrong'd your country and himself, And we must seek to right it as we may.

Meanwhile, have hence this rebel to the block.

O. SPEN. Rebel is he that fights against the prince;

So fought not they that fought in Edward's right.
Y. MOR. Take him away, he prates; you, Rice

ap Howell,

Shall do good service to her majesty,

Being of countenance in your country here,
To follow these rebellious runagates.

We in meanwhile, madam, must take advice,
How Baldock, Spencer, and their complices,
May in their fall be followed to their end.

SCENE VI.

[Exeunt omnes.

Enter the ABBOT, MONKS, EDWARD, SPENCER, and BALDOCK.

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.

EDW. Father thy face should harbour no deceit.
O! hadst thou ever been a king, thy heart,
Pierc'd deeply with a 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 Spencer, come Baldock, come sit down by me; Make trial now of thy philosophy,

That in our famous nurseries of arts

Thou suck'st from Plato and from Aristotle.
Father, this life contemplative is heaven.

O that I might this life in quiet lead!

But we, alas! are chas'd; 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.

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

Y. SPEN. Not one alive, but shrewdly I suspect A gloomy fellow in a mead below,

He 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.

BALD. We were embark'd for Ireland, wretched

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With awkward winds and sore tempest driven
To fall on shore, and here to pine in fear
Of Mortimer and his confederates.

EDW. 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!

VOL. II.

6

Y. SPEN. Look up my lord.-Baldock, this drow

siness

Betides no good; even here we are betray'd.

Enter, with Welch hooks, RICE AP HOWEL, a
MOWER, and the Earl of LEICESTER.

Mow. Upon my life, these be the men ye seek. RICE. Fellow, enough. My lord, I pray be short, A fair commission warrants what we do.

LEICES. The queen's commission, urg'd by Mor

timer.

What cannot Mortimer do with the queen!
Alas! see where he sits, and hopes unseen
T'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.
Spencer and Baldock, by no other names,
I do arrest you of high treason here.
Stand not on titles, but obey th' arrest,
"Tis in the name of Isabel the queen.

My lord why droop you thus ?

EDW. O day the last of all my bliss on earth!
Centre of all misfortune! O my stars!
Why do you low'r 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. Away with them!

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