Enter the Herald from the Barons, with his coat of arms. Her. Long live King Edward, England's lawful lord! Edw. So wish not they I wis that sent thee hither. Thou com'st from Mortimer and his 'complices, A ranker rout of rebels never was. Well, say thy message. Her. The barons up in arms, by me salute Your highness with long life and happiness; And bid me say, as 'plainer to your grace, That if without effusion of blood, 155 You will this grief have ease and remedy, 160 This Spencer, as a putrefying branch, That deads the royal vine, whose golden leave[s] Whose brightness such pernicious upstarts dim, 165 Say they; and lovingly advise your grace, And have old servitors in high esteem, And shake off smooth dissembling flatterers: This granted, they, their honours, and their lives, 170 Are to your highness vow'd and consecrate'. Y. Spen. Ah, traitors! will they still display their pride? Edw. Away, tarry no answer, but be gone! Rebels, will they appoint their sovereign His sports, his pleasures, and his company? 175 Yet, ere thou go, see how I do divorce [Embraces SPENCER. 180 For murthering Gauston; hie thee, get thee gone! SCENE II.-Near Boroughbridge. 1321. Enter the KING, OLD SPENCER, YOUNG SPENCER, BALDOCK, and LEVUNE. Edw. Why do we sound retreat? upon them, lords! This day I shall pour vengeance with Y. Spen. I doubt it not, my lord, right will prevail. Y. Spen. Here come the rebels. Enter the Barons, MORTIMER, LANCASTER, WARWICK, PEMBROKE, cum cæteris. E. Mor. Look, Lancaster, yonder is Edward Among his flatterers. Lan. And there let him be Till he pay dearly for their company. 5 ΙΟ War. And shall, or Warwick's sword shall smite in vain. Y. Spen. Traitor on thy face, rebellious Lancaster ! And levy arms against your lawful king! Edw. For which ere long their heads shall satisfy, Y. Mor. Then, Edward, thou wilt fight it to the last, Edw. Ay, traitors all, rather than thus be braved, War. A desperate and unnatural resolution! Alarum !-to the fight! St George for England, and the barons' right. 20 25 339 30 Edw. St George for England, and King Edward's right. 35 [Alarums. Exeunt. Re-enter EDWARD and his Followers, with the Barons and KENT, captives. Edw. Now, lusty lords, now, not by chance of war, But justice of the quarrel and the cause, Vail'd is your pride; methinks you hang the heads, But we'll advance them, traitors; now 'tis time 40 45 [Exit KENT. Accursed wretch', was't in regard of us, He might be spared to come to speak with us, 50 55 War. Tyrant, I scorn thy threats and menaces, It is but temporal that thou canst inflict. Lan. The worst is death, and better die to live Than live in infamy under such a king. 60 Edw. Away with them, my lord of Winchester! War. Farewell, vain world! Lan. Sweet Mortimer, farewell. Y. Mor. England, unkind to thy nobility, 65 Groan for this grief, behold how thou art maim'd! Edw. Go, take that haughty Mortimer to the Tower, There see him safe bestow'd; and for the rest, 70 Begone! Y. Mor. What, Mortimer! can ragged stony walls No, Edward, England's scourge, it may not be, [The captive Barons are led off. Edw. Sound drums and trumpets! March with me, my friends, Edward this day hath crown'd him king anew. [Exeunt. 75 Manent YOUNG SPENCER, Y. Spen. Levune, the trust that we repose in thee, Begets the quiet of King Edward's land. 80 To Isabel, the queen, that now in France Makes friends, to cross the seas with her young son, 85 Levune. That's it these barons and the subtle queen Long level'd at. Bal. Yea, but, Levune, thou seest, These barons lay their heads on blocks together; What they intend, the hangman frustrates clean. Levune. Have you no doubt, my lords, I'll clap so close Among the lords of France with England's gold, That Isabel shall make her plaints in vain, And France shall be obdurate with her tears. Y. Spen. Then make for France, amain-Levune, away! Proclaim King Edward's wars and victories. 90 96 [Exeunt omnes. ACT IV. SCENE I.-Near the Tower. 1324. Enter KENT. Kent. Fair blows the wind for France; blow, gentle gale, Till Edmund be arrived for England's good! Nature, yield to my country's cause in this. A brother? no, a butcher of thy friends! Proud Edward, dost thou banish me thy presence? But I'll to France, and cheer the wrongèd queen, Thy sweet escape; stand gracious, gloomy night, Enter YOUNG MORTIMER, disguised. Y. Mor. Holloa! who walketh there? Is't you, my lord? Kent. Mortimer, 'tis I; But hath thy potion wrought so happily? 5 ΙΟ 15 [Exeunt. Y. Mor. It hath, my lord; the warders, all asleep, Enter the QUEEN and her Son. Queen. Ah, boy! our friends do fail us all in France; Prince. Madam, return to England, Queen. Ah, boy, thou art deceived, at least in this, Unkind Valois ! Unhappy Isabel! when France rejects, Whither, oh! whither dost thou bend thy steps? Enter SIR JOHN OF HENAULT. Sir 7. Madam, what cheer? Queen. Ah, good Sir John of Henault, Never so cheerless, nor so far distrest. Sir F. I hear, sweet lady, of the king's unkindness; But droop not, madam, noble minds contemn Despair will your grace with me to Henault, And there stay time's advantage with your son? How say you, m' lord, will you go with your friends, 5 IO 15 Prince. So please the queen, my mother, me it likes: 20 Till I be strong enough to break a staff; And then have at the proudest Spencer's head! Sir J. Well said, my lord. Queen. Oh, my sweet heart, how do I moan thy wrongs, Yet triumph in the hope of thee, my joy! Ah, sweet Sir John! e'en to the utmost verge Of Europe, or the shore of Tanais, Will we with thee: to Henault so we will :— 25 30 |