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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 Leister say, what shall become of us?

Leist. Your majesty must go to Killingworth.
Edw. Must! 'tis somewhat hard, when kings must go.
Leist. 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 shoar.
For friends 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! Lei'ster, thou stay'st for me,
And go I must. Life, farewell, with my friends.

[Exeunt Edward and Leicester.

Spen. jun. 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;
Spencer, all live to die, and rise to fall.

Enter the King, Leicester, with a Bishop, for the crown.

Leic. Be patient, good my lord, cease to lament,

Imagine Killingworth castle were your court,
And that you lay for pleasure here a space,
Not of compulsion or necessity.

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Edw. Leister, if gentle words might comfort me, Thy speeches long ago had eas'd my sorrows; For kind and loving hast thou always been. The griefs of private men are soon allay'd, But not of kings. The forest deer being struck, Runs to an herb that closeth up the wounds; But when the imperial lion's flesh is gor'd, He rends and tears it with his wrathful paw, And highly scorning, that the lowly earth Should drink his blood, mounts up to th' air: And so it fares with me, whose dauntless mind Th' ambitious Mortimer would seek to curb, And that unnatural queen, false Isabel, That thus hath pent and mew'd me in a prison : For such outragious passions claw my soul, As with the wings of rancour and disdain, Full oft am I soaring up to high heav'n, To plain me to the gods against them both. But when I call to mind I am a king, Methinks I should revenge me of the wrongs, That Mortimer and Isabel have done. But what are kings, when regiment is gone, But perfect shadows in a sunshine day? My nobles rule, I bear the name of king; I wear the crown, but am controul'd by them, By Mortimer, and my unconstant queen, Who spots my nuptial bed with infamy; Whilst I am lodg'd within this cave of care, Where sorrow at my elbow still attends, To company my heart with sad laments, That bleeds within me for this strange exchange. But tell me, must I now resign my crown,

To make usurping Mortimer a king?

Bish. Your grace mistakes, it is for England's good, And princely Edward's right, we crave the crown. Edw. No, 'tis for Mortimer, not Edward's head;

For he's a lamb, encompassed by wolves,

Which in a moment will abridge his life.

But if proud Mortimer do wear this crown,
Heav'ns turn it to a blaze of quenchless fire,
Or like the snaky wreath of Tisiphon,
Engirt the temples of his hateful head;

So shall not England's vines be perished,

But Edward's name survive, though Edward dies.

Leic. My lord, why waste you thus the time away?

They stay your answer, will you yield your crown?
Edw. Ah, Leister, weigh how hardly I can brook
To lose my crown and kingdom without cause;
To give ambitious Mortimer my right,
That like a mountain overwhelms my bliss,
In which extream my mind here murther'd is.
But what the heav'ns appoint, I must obey!
Here, take my crown; the life of Edward too;
Two kings in England cannot reign at once.
But stay a while, let me be king till night,
That I may gaze upon this glittering crown;
So shall my eyes receive their last content,
My head, the latest honour due to it,
And jointly both yield up their wished right.
Continue ever, thou celestial sun;
Let never silent night possess this clime;
Stand still, you watches of the element;
All times and seasons, rest you at a stay,
That Edward may be still fair England's king.
But day's bright beam doth vanish fast away,
And needs I must resign my wished crown;
Inhuman creatures! nurs'd with tiger's milk!
Why gape you for your sovereign's overthrow?
My diadem, I mean, and guiltless life.

See, monsters, see, I'll wear my crown again.
What, fear you not the fury of your king?
But, hapless Edward, thou art fondly led,
They pass not for thy frowns as late they did,
But seek to make a new-elected king;

Which fills my mind with strange despairing thoughts,
Which thoughts are martyred with endless torments,
And in this torment, comfort find I none,

But that I feel the crown upon my head,

And therefore let me wear it yet a while.

Trusty. My lord, the parliament must have present news,

And therefore say, will you resign or no?

Edw. I'll not resign! but whilst I live, be king!

Traitors, be gone, and join with Mortimer..

Elect, conspire, install, do what you will:

Their blood and yours shall seal these treacheries.

Bish. This answer we'll return, and so farewell.

Leic. Call them again, my lord, and speak them fair;

For if they go, the prince shall lose his right.

Edw. Call thou them back, I have no power to speak.
Leic. My lord, the king is willing to resign.

Bish. If he be not, let him choose.

Edw. O would I might! but heav'n and earth conspire

To make me miserable! here, receive my crown;

Receive it? no, these innocent hands of mine

Shall not be guilty of so foul a crime.

He of you all that most desires my blood,
And will be call'd the murtherer of a king,
Take it. What, are you mov'd? pity you me?
Then send for unrelenting Mortimer,

And Isabel, whose eyes being turn'd to steel,
Will sooner sparkle fire than shed a tear.
Yet stay, for rather than I will look on them,
Here, here: now, sweet God of heav'n,
Make me despise this transitory pomp,
And sit for ever inthroniz'd in heav'n!

Come, Death, and with thy fingers close my eyes,
Or if I live, let me forget myself.

Bart. My lord.

Enter Bartley.

Edw. Call me not lord;

Away, out of my sight-ah, pardon me,
Grief makes me lunatick!

Let not that Mortimer protect my son;
More safety there is in a tiger's jaws,

Than his imbracements-Bear this to the queen,
Wet with my tears, and dry'd again with sighs;
If with the sight thereof she be not mov'd,
Return it back and dip it in my blood.
Commend me to my son, and bid him rule
Better than I. Yet how have I transgrest,
Unless it be with too much clemency?

Trusty. And thus, most humbly do we take our leave.
Edw. Farewell; I know the next news that they bring,

Will be my death; and welcome shall it be,

To wretched men, death is felicity.

Leic. Another post! what news brings he?

Edw. Such news as I expect-come, Bartley, come,

And tell thy message to my naked breast.

Bart. My lord, think not a thought so villanous

Can harbour in a man of noble birth.

To do your highness service and devoir,

And save you from your foes, Bartley would die.

Leic. My lord, the counsel of the queen commands

That I resign my charge.

Edw. And who must keep me now? must you, my lord?
Bart. I, my most gracious lord, so 'tis decreed.

Edw. By Mortimer, whose name is written here.
Well, may I rend his name that rends my heart;

This poor revenge hath something eas'd my mind.
So may his limbs be torn, as is this paper;

Hear me, immortal Jove, and grant it too!

Bart. Your grace must hence with me to Bartley straight.

Edw. Whither you will, all places are alike,

And every earth is fit for burial.

Leic. Favour him, my lord, as much as lieth in you.
Bart. Even so betide my soul as I use him.
Edw. Mine enemy hath pitied my estate,

And that's the cause that I am now remov'd.

Bart. And thinks your grace that Bartley will be cruel?

Edw. I know not, but of this am I assur'd,

That death ends all, and I can die but once.
Leicester, farewell."

Lightborn is employed to murder the king.

Edw. Who's there? what light is that? wherefore com'st thou?

Light. To comfort you, and bring you joyful news.

Edw. Small comfort finds poor Edward in thy looks.

Villain, I know thou com'st to murder me.

Light. To murder you, my most gracious lord!

Far is it from my heart to do you harm.

The

queen sent me to see how you were us'd,

For she relents at this your misery:

And what eyes can refrain from shedding tears,
To see a king in this most piteous state?

Edw. Weep'st thou already? list a-while to me,
And then thy heart, were it as Gurney's is,
Or as Matrevis, hewn from the Caucasus,
Yet will it melt, e'er I have done my tale.
This dungeon where they keep me, is the sink,
Wherein the filth of all the castle falls.
Light. O villains!

Edw. And there, in mire and puddle, have I stood
This ten days' space; and, lest that I should sleep,

One plays continually upon a drum.

They give me bread and water, being a king;
So that, for want of sleep and sustenance,
My mind's distemper'd, and my body's numb'd,

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