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Come Spencer, come Baldock, come sit down by me;
do wot of your abode.
Bald. We were embark'd for Ireland, wretched
With awkward winds and sore tempest driven
Edw. Mortimer ! who talks of Mortimer?
Y. Spen. Look up my lord.-Baldock, this drow
Mower, and the Earl of LEICESTER.
Rice. Fellow, enough. My lord, I pray be short,
Edw. O day the last of all my bliss on earth!
To take my life, my company from me? xHere 'man rip up this panting breast of mine, And take
my heart in rescue of my friends. Rice. Away with them !
Y. Spen. It may become thee yet, To let us take our farewell of his grace. ABBOT. My heart with pity yearns to see this
sight, A king to bear these words and proud commands.
Edw. Spencer, sweet Spencer, thus then must we
Y. Spen. We must, my lord, so will the angry
heav'ns. Edw. Nay so will hell and cruel Mortimer; The gentle heav'ns have not to do in this.
BALD. 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. Edw. In heav'n we may, in earth ne'er shall we
meet: And, Leicester, say, what shall become of us ?
LEICES. Your majesty must go to Killingworth. Edw. Must! 'tis somewhat hard, when kings
must go. LEICES. Here is a litter ready for your grace, That waits your pleasure, and the day grows old.
Rice. As good be gone, as stay and be benighted.
Edw. A litter hast thou ? lay me in a hearse, And to the gates of hell convey me hence ; Let Pluto's bells ring out my fatal knell, And hags howl for my death at Charon's shore, For friend hath Edward none, but these; and these Must die under a tyrant's sword.
Rice. My lord, be going ; care not for these,
For we shall see them shorter by the heads.
Edw. Well, what shall be, shall be : part we must! Sweet Spencer, gentle Baldock, part we must! Hence feigned weeds! unfeigned are my woes; Father, farewell! Leicester, thou stay'st for me, And go I must. Life, farewell, with my friends.
[Exeunt Edward and Leicester. Y. Spen. O is he gone! is noble Edward gone! Parted from hence ? never to see us more? Rend, sphere of heav'n! and, fire, forsake thy orb! Earth, melt to air ! gone is my sovereign, Gone, gone, alas ! never to make return.
Bald. Spencer, I see our souls are fleeting hence; We are depriv'd the sunshine of our life: Make for a new life, man ; throw up thy eyes, And heart and hand to heav'n's immortal throne, Pay nature's debt with cheerful countenance; Reduce we all our lessons unto this,
To die, sweet Spencer, therefore live we all; X Spencer, all live to die, and rise to fall. Rice. Come, come, keep these preachments till
you come to the place appointed. You, and such as you are, have made wise work in
Mow. Your lordship I trust will remember me?
Rice. Remember thee, fellow! what else?
ACT THE FIFTH.
SCENE I. Enter the King, Leicester, with the Bishop of
WINCHESTER for the crown, and others.
Edw, Leicester, if gentle words might comfort me,