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To dash the heavy-headed Edmund's drift,
Berkley shall be discharg'd, the king remov'd,
And none but we shall know where he lieth.

QUEEN. But, Mortimer, as long as he survives,
What safety rests for us, or for my son ?
Y. Mor. Speak, shall be presently be dispatch'd

and die ? Queen. I would he were, so't were not by my


Y. Mor. Enough; Matrevis, write a letter pre-

Unto the lord of Berkley from curself,
That he resign the king to thee and Gurney;
And when 'tis done, we will subscribe our name.

Mat. It shall be done, my lord.
Y. Mor. Gurney.
GUR. My lord.

Y. Mor. As thou intendest 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. GUR. I warrant you, my

lord. Y. Mor. And this above the rest, because we hear 'That Edmund casts to work his liberty, Renove him still from place to place by night, Till at the last he come to Killingworth, And then from thence to Berkley 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.
Mat. Fear not, my lord, we'll do as you com-

mand. Y. Mor. So, now away; post thitherwards amain. Queen. Whither goes this letter, to my lord the

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


love. MAT. I will, madam.

(Exeunt all but Isabel and Mortimer. Enter the Young Prince, and the EARL of KENT

talking with him. Y. Mor. Finely dissembled ! Do so still, sweet

queen. Here comes the young prince, with the earl of Kent.

Queen. Something he whispers in his childish


Y. Mor. If he have such access unto the prince, Our plots and stratagems will soon be dash'd. Queen. Use Edmund friendly, as if all were

well. Y. Mor. How fares my honourable lord of Kent? Kent. In health, sweet Mortimer: how fares your grace?

* ill-naturedly.

Queen. Well, if my lord your brother were en

Kent. I hear of late he hath depos'd himself.
Queen. The more my grief.
Y. Mor. And mine.
Kent. Ah, they do dissemble !

[Aside. QUEEN. Sweet son, come hither, I must talk with

thee. Y. Mor. 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


But she that gave him life; I mean the queen

? PRINCE. Mother, persuade me not to wear the

crown; Let him be king-I am too young to reign. Queen. But be content, seeing it is his highness'

pleasure. PRINCE. Let me but see him first, and then I

will. Kent. Ay, do, sweet nephew. QUEEN. Brother, you know it is impossible. PRINCE. Why, is he dead? QUEEN. No, God forbid. Kent. I would those words proceeded from your

heart. Y. Mor. Inconstant Edmund, dost thou favour


That wast a cause of his imprisonment?
Kent. The more cause have I now to make

Y. Mor I tell thee, 'tis not meet that one so false
Should come about the person of a prince.
My lord, he hath betray'd the king his brother,
And therefore trust him not.

Prince. But he repents, and sorrows for it now, QUEEN. Come son, and go with this gentle lord

and me.

Prince. With you I will, but not with Mortimer.
Y. Mor. Why, youngling, 'sdain'st thou so of

Then I will carry thee by force away.

Prince. Help, uncle Kent, Mortimer will wrong


Queen. 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. Edward is myson, and I will keep him. Kent. Mortimer shall know that he hath wrong'a

me! Hence will I haste to Killingworth castle, And rescue aged Edward from his foes, To be reveng'd on Mortimer and thee. Aside.

[Exeunt omnes.

SCENE III. Enter Matrevi8 and Gurney with the King. Mar. My lord, be not pensive, we are your

friends; Men are ordain'd to live in misery, Therefore come,-dalliance dangereth our lives.

Edw. 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, Aad give my heart to Isabel and him; It is the chiefest mark they level at. GUR. Not so, my liege, the queen hath given this

To keep your grace in safety:
Your passions make your choler to increase.

Edw. This usage makes my misery increase.
But can my air of life continue long,
When all my senses are annoy'd with stench?
Within a dungeon England's king is kept,
Where I am starv'd for want of sustenance,
My daily diet is heart-breaking sobs,
That almost rend the closet of


heart; Thus lives old Edward not reliev'd by any, And so must die, though pitied by many. VOL. II.


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