Edward II Read Online

May we not?

[Enter the King and Kent.]

EDWARD.

How now, what noise is this?

Who have we there, ist you?

[Offers to go back.]

MORTIMER.

Nay, stay my lord, I come to bring you newes,

Mine unckles taken prisoner by the Scots.

EDWARD. Then ransome him.

LANCASTER.

Twas in your wars, you should ransome him.

MORTIMER.

And you shall ransome him, or else –

KENT.

What Mortimer, you will not threaten him?

EDWARD.

Quiet your self, you shall have the broad seale,

To gather for him thoroughout the realme.

LANCASTER.

Your minion Gaveston hath taught you this.

MORTIMER.

My lord, the familie of the Mortimers

Are not so poore, but would they sell their land,

Would levie men enough to anger you.

We never beg, but use such praiers as these.

[Lays hand on sword.]

EDWARD.

Shall I still be haunted thus?

MORTIMER.

Nay, now you are heere alone, ile speake my minde.

LANCASTER.

And so will I, and then my lord farewell.

MORTIMER.

The idle triumphes, maskes, lascivious showes

And prodigall gifts bestowed on Gaveston,

Have drawne thy treasure drie, and made thee weake,

The murmuring commons overstretched hath.

LANCASTER.

Looke for rebellion, looke to be deposde,

Thy garrisons are beaten out of Frauce,

And lame and poore, lie groning at the gates,

The wilde Oneyle, with swarmes of Irish Kernes,

Lives uncontroulde within the English pale,

Unto the walles of Yorke the Scots made rode,

And unresisted, drave away riche spoiles.

MORTIMER.

The hautie Dane commands the narrow seas,

While in the harbor ride thy ships unrigd.

LANCASTER.

What forraine prince sends thee embassadors?

MORTIMER.

Who loves thee? but a sort of flatterers.

LANCASTER.

Thy gentle Queene, sole sister to Valoys,

Complaines, that thou hast left her all forlorne.

MORTIMER.

Thy court is naked, being bereft of those,

That makes a king seeme glorious to the world,

I meane the peeres, whom thou shouldst dearly love:

Libels are cast againe thee in the streete,

Ballads and rimes, made of thy overthrow.

LANCASTER.

The Northren borderers seeing their houses burnt,

Their wives and children slaine, run up and downe,

Cursing the name of thee and Gaveston.

MORTIMER.

When wert thou in the field with banner spred?

But once, and then thy souldiers marcht like players,

With garish robes, not armor, and thy selfe

Bedaubd with golde, rode laughing at the rest,

Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest,

Where womens favors hung like labels downe.

LANCASTER.

And thereof came it, that the fleering Scots,

To Englands high disgrace, have made this Jig,

Maids of England, sore may you moorne,

For your lemmons you have lost, at Bannocks borne,

With a heave and a ho,

What weeneth the king of England,

So soone to have woone Scotland,

With a rombelow.

MORTIMER.

Wigmore shall flie, to set my unckle free.

LANCASTER.

And when tis gone, our swordes shall purchase more.

If ye be moov'de, revenge it as you can,

Looke next to see us with our ensignes spred.

Exeunt Nobiles.

EDWARD.

My swelling hart for very anger breakes,

How oft have I beene baited by these peeres?

And dare not be revengde, for their power is great:

Yet, shall the crowing of these cockerels,

Affright a Lion? Edward, unfolde thy pawes,

And let their lives bloud slake thy furies hunger:

If I be cruell, and growe tyrannous,

Now let them thanke themselves, and rue too late.

KENT.

My lord, I see your love to Gaveston,

Will be the ruine of the realme and you,

For now the wrathfull nobles threaten warres,

And therefore brother banish him for ever.

EDWARD.

Art thou an enemie to my Gaveston?

KENT.

I, and it greeves me that I favoured him.

EDWARD.

Traitor be gone, whine thou with Mortimer.

KENT.

So will I, rather then with Gaveston.

EDWARD.

Out of my sight, and trouble me no more.

KENT.

No marvell though thou scorne thy noble peeres,

When I thy brother am rejected thus.

Exit.

EDWARD.

Away:

Poore Gaveston, that hast no friend but me,

Do what they can, weele live in Tinmoth here,

And so I walke with him about the walles,

What care I though the Earles begirt us round?

Heere comes she thats cause of all these jarres.

Enter the Queene, three Ladies [, one of these Neece to the king, Gaveston], Baldock, and Spencer.

QUEENE.

My lord, tis thought, the Earles are up in armes.

EDWARD.

I, and tis likewise thought you favour him.

QUEENE.

Thus do you still suspect me without cause.

NEECE.

Sweet unckle speake more kindly to the queene.

GAVESTON.

My lord, dissemble with her, speake her faire.

EDWARD.

Pardon me sweet, I forgot my selfe.

QUEENE.

Your pardon is quicklie got of Isabell.

EDWARD.

The yonger Mortimer is growne so brave,

That to my face he threatens civill warres.

GAVESTON.

Why do you not commit him to the tower?

EDWARD.

I dare not, for the people love him well.

GAVESTON.

Why then weele have him privilie made away.

EDWARD.

Would Lancaster and he had both carroust,

A bowle of poison to each others health:

But let them go, and tell me what are these.

NEECE.

Two of my fathers servants whilst he liv'de,

Mait please your grace to entertaine them now.

EDWARD.

Tell me, where wast thou borne?

What is thine armes?

BALDOCK.

My name is Baldock, and my gentrie

If fetcht rom Oxford, not from Heraldrie.

EDWARD.

The fitter art thou Baldock for my turne,

Waite on me, and ile see thou shall not want.

BALDOCK.

I humblie thanke your majestie.

EDWARD.

Knowest thou him Gaveston?

GAVESTON.

I my lord,

His name is Spencer, he is well alied,

For my sake let him waite upon your grace,

Scarce shall you finde a man of more desart.

EDWARD.

Then Spencer waite upon me, for his sake

Ile grace thee with a higher stile ere long.

SPENCER.

No greater titles happen unto me,

Then to be favoured of your majestie.

EDWARD.

Cosin, this day shalbe your mariage feast,

And Gaveston, thinke that I love thee well,

To wed thee to our neece, the onely heire

Unto the Earle of Gloster late deceased.

GAVESTON.

I know my lord, many will stomack me,

But I respect neither their love nor hate.

EDWARD.

The head-strong Barons shall not limit me.

He that I list to favour shall be great:

Come lets away, and when the mariage ends,

Have at the rebels, and their complices.

Exeunt omnes.

[II.iii]

Enter Lancaster, Mortimer [junior], Warwick, Penbrooke, Kent.

KENT.

My lords, of love to this our native land,

I come to joine with you, and leave the king,

And in your quarrell and the realmes behoofe,

Will be the first that shall adventure life.

LANCASTER.

I feare me you are sent of pollicie,

To undermine us with a showe of love.

WARWICKE.

He is your brother, therefore have we cause

To cast the worst, and doubt of your revolt.

KENT.

Mine honor shalbe hostage of my truth,

If that will not suffice, farewell my lords.

MORTIMER.

Stay Edmund, never was Plantagenet

False of his word, and therefore trust we thee.

PENBROOKE.

But whats the reason you should leave him now?

KENT.

I have enformd the Earle of Lancaster.

LANCASTER.

And it sufficeth: now my lords know this,

That Gaveston is secretlie arrivde,

And here in Tinmoth frollicks with the king.

Let us with these our followers scale the walles,

And sodenly surprize them unawares.

MORTIMER.

Ile give the onset.

WARWICKE.

And ile follow thee.

MORTIMER.

This tottered ensigne of my auncesters,

Which swept the desart shore of that dead sea,

Whereof we got the name of Mortimer,

Will I advaunce upon this castell walles,

Drums strike alarum, raise them from their sport,

And ring aloude the knell of Gaveston.

LANCASTER.

None be so hardie as to touche the King,

But neither spare you Gaveston, nor his friends.

Exeunt.

[II.iv]

[Alarums.] Enter [at several doors] the King and Spencer, to them Gaveston, etc. [the Queene, Neece, lords].

EDWARD.

O tell me Spencer, where is Gaveston?

SPENCER.

I feare me he is slaine my gratious lord.

EDWARD.

No, here he comes, now let them spoile and kill:

Flie, flie, my lords, the earles have got the holde,

Take shipping and away to Scarborough,

Spencer and I will post away by land.

GAVESTON.

O stay my lord, they will not injure you.

EDWARD.

I will not trust them, Gaveston away.

GAVESTON.

Farewell my Lord.

EDWARD.

Ladie, farewell.

NEECE.

Farewell sweete unckle till we meete againe.

EDWARD.

Farewell sweete Gaveston, and farewell Neece.

QUEENE.

No farewell, to poore Isabell, thy Queene?

EDWARD.

Yes, yes, for Mortimer your lovers sake.

Exeunt omnes, manet Isabella.

QUEENE.

Heavens can witnesse, I love none but you.

From my imbracements thus he breakes away,

O that mine armes could close this Ile about,

That I might pull him to me where I would,

Or that these teares that drissell from mine eyes,

Had power to mollifie his stonie hart,

That when I had him we might never part.

Enter the Barons, alarums.

LANCASTER.

I wonder how he scapt.

MORTIMER.

Whose this, the Queene?

QUEENE.

I Mortimer, the miserable Queene,

Whose pining heart, her inward sighes have blasted,

And body with continuall moorning wasted:

These hands are tir'd, with haling of my lord

From Gaveston, from wicked Gaveston,

And all in vaine, for when I speake him faire,

He turnes away, and smiles upon his minion.

MORTIMER.

Cease to lament, and tell us wheres the king?

QUEENE.

What would you with the king, ist him you seek?

LANCASTER.

No madam, but that cursed Gaveston.

Farre be it from the thought of Lancaster,

To offer violence to his soveraigne,

We would but rid the realme of Gaveston,

Tell us where he remaines, and he shall die.

[Exeunt Barons.]

QUEENE.

Hees gone by water unto Scarborough,

Pursue him quicklie, and he cannot scape,

The king hath left him, and his traine is small.

WARWICKE.

Forslowe no time, sweet Lancaster lets march.

MORTIMER.

How comes it, that the king and he is parted?

QUEENE.

That this your armie going severall waies,

Might be of lesser force, and with the power

That he intendeth presentlie to raise,

Be easilie supprest: and therefore be gone.

MORTIMER.

Heere in the river rides a Flemish hoie,

Lets all aboord, and follow him amaine.

LANCASTER.

The wind that bears him hence, wil fil our sailes,

Come, come aboord, tis but an houres sailing.

MORTIMER.

Madam, stay you within this castell here.

QUEENE.

No Mortimer, ile to my lord the king.

MORTIMER.

Nay, rather saile with us to Scarborough.

QUEENE.

You know the king is so suspitious,

As if he heare I have but talkt with you,

Mine honour will be cald in question,

And therefore gentle Mortimer be gone.

MORTIMER.

Madam, I cannot stay to answer you,

But thinke of Mortimer as he deserves.

[Exeunt Barons.]

QUEENE.

So well hast thou deserv'de sweete Mortimer,

As Isabell could live with thee for ever,

In vaine I looke for love at Edwards hand,

Whose eyes are fixt on none but Gaveston:

Yet once more ile importune him with praiers,

If he be straunge and not regarde my wordes,

My sonne and I will over into France,

And to the king my brother there complaine,

How Gaveston hath robd me of his love:

But yet I hope my sorrowes will have end,

And Gaveston this blessed day be slaine.

Exit.

[II.v]

Enter Gaveston pursued.

GAVESTON.

Yet lustie lords I have escapt your handes,

Your threats, your larums, and your hote pursutes,

And though devorsed from king Edwards eyes,

Yet liveth Pierce of Gaveston unsurprizd,

Breathing, in hope (malgrado all your beards,

That muster rebels thus against your king)

To see his royall soveraigne once againe.

Enter the Nobles.

WARWICKE.

Upon him souldiers, take away his weapons.

MORTIMER.

Thou proud disturber of thy countries peace,

Corrupter of thy king, cause of these broiles,

Base flatterer, yeeld, and were it not for shame,

Shame and dishonour to a souldiers name,

Upon my weapons point here shouldst thou fall,

And welter in thy goare.

LANCASTER.

Monster of men,

That like the Greekish strumpet traind to armes

And bloudie warres, so many valiant knights,

Looke for no other fortune wretch then death,

King Edward is not heere to buckler thee.

WARWICKE.

Lancaster, why talkst thou to the slave?

Go souldiers take him hence, for by my sword,

His head shall off: Gaveston, short warning

Shall serve thy turne: it is our countries cause,

That here severelie we will execute

Upon thy person: hang him at a bough.

GAVESTON.

My Lord!

WARWICKE.

Souldiers, have him away:

But for thou wert the favorit of a King,

Thou shalt have so much honor at our hands.

GAVESTON.

I thanke you all my lords, then I perceive,

That heading is one, and hanging is the other,

And death is all.

Enter earle of Arundell.

LANCASTER.

How now my lord of Arundell?

ARUNDELL.

My lords, king Edward greetes you all by me.

WARWICKE.

Arundell, say your message.

ARUNDELL.

His majesty,

Hearing that you had taken Gaveston,

Intreateth you by me, yet but he may

See him before he dies, for why he saies,

And sends you word, he knowes that die he shall,

And if you gratifie his grace so farre,

He will be mindfull of the curtesie.

WARWICKE.

How now?

GAVESTON.

Renowmed Edward, how thy name

Revives poore Gaveston.

WARWICKE.

No, it needeth not.

Arundell, we will gratifie the king

In other matters, he must pardon us in this,

Souldiers away with him.

GAVESTON.

Why my Lord of Warwicke,

Will not these delaies beget my hopes?

I know it lords, it is this life you aime at,

Yet graunt king Edward this.

MORTIMER.

Shalt thou appoint

What we shall graunt? Souldiers away with him:

Thus weele gratifie the king,

Weele send his head by thee, let him bestow

His teares on that, for that is all he gets

Of Gaveston, or else his sencelesse trunck.

LANCASTER.

Not so my Lord, least he bestow more cost,

In burying him, then he hath ever earned.

ARUNDELL.

My lords, it is his majesties request,

And in the honor of a king he sweares,

He will but talke with him and send him backe.

WARWICKE.

When, can you tell? Arundell no,

We wot, he that the care of realme remits,

And drives his nobles to these exigents

For Gaveston, will if he seaze him once,

Violate any promise to possesse him.

ARUNDELL.

Then if you will not trust his grace in keepe,

My lords, I will be pledge for his returne.

MORTIMER.

It is honourable in thee to offer this,

But for we know thou art a noble gentleman,

We will not wrong thee so,

To make away a true man for a theefe.

GAVESTON.

How meanst thou Mortimer? that is over base.

MORTIMER.

Away base groome, robber of kings renowme,

Question with thy companions and thy mates.

PENBROOKE.

My lord Mortimer, and you my lords each one,

To gratifie the kings request therein,

Touching the sending of this Gaveston,

Because his majestie so earnestlie

Desires to see the man before his death,

I will upon mine honor undertake

To carrie him, and bring him back againe,

Provided this, that you my lord of Arundell

Will joyne with me.

WARWICKE.

Penbrooke, what wilt thou do?

Cause yet more bloudshed: is it not enough

That we have taken him, but must we now

Leave him on had-I-wist, and let him go?

PENBROOKE.

My lords, I will not over wooe your honors,

But if you dare trust Penbrooke with the prisoner,

Upon mine oath I will returne him back.

ARUNDELL.

My lord of Lancaster, what say you in this?

LANCASTER.

Why I say, let him go on Penbrookes word.

PENBROOKE.

And you lord Mortimer?

MORTIMER.

How say you my lord of Warwick?

WARWICKE.

Nay, do your pleasures, I know how twill proove.

PENBROOKE.

Then give him me.

GAVESTON.

Sweete soveraigne, yet I come

To see thee ere I die.

WARWICKE.

Yet not perhaps,

[Aside.]

If Warwickes wit and policile prevaile.

MORTIMER.

My lord of Penbrooke, we deliver him you,

Returne him on your honor. Sound, away.

Exeunt.

Manent Penbrooke, Arundell, Gaveston, and Penbrookes men, foure souldiers [, one of them James].

PENBROOKE.

My Lord, you shall go with me,

My house is not farre hence, out of the way

A little, but our men shall go along.

We that have prettie wenches to our wives,

Sir, must not come so neare and balke their lips.

ARUNDELL.

Tis verie kindlie spoke my lord of Penbrooke,

Your honor hath an adamant, of power

To drawe a prince.

PENBROOKE.

So my lord. Come hether James,

I do commit this Gaveston to thee,

Be thou this night his keeper, in the morning

We will discharge thee of thy charge, be gon.

GAVESTON.

Unhappie Gaveston, whether goest thou now.

Exit [Gaveston] cum servis Penbrookis.

HORSE BOY.

My lord, weele quicklie be at Cobham.

Exeunt ambo [Penbrooke and Arundell, attended].

[II.vi]

Enter Gaveston moorning, and the earle of Penbrookes men [, James and three souldiers].

GAVESTON.

O treacherous Warwicke thus to wrong thy friend!

JAMES.

I see it is your life these armes pursue.

GAVESTON.

Weaponles must I fall and die in bands,

O must this day be period of my life,

Center of all my blisse! And yee be men,

Speede to the king.

Enter Warwicke and his companie.

WARWICKE.

My lord of Penbrookes men,

Strive you no longer, I will have that Gaveston.

JAMES.

Your lordship doth dishonor to your selfe,

And wrong our lord, your honorable friend.

WARWICKE.

No James, it is my countries cause I follow.

Goe, take the villaine, soldiers come away,

Weel make quick worke, commend me to your maister

My friend, and tell him that I watcht it well.

Come, let thy shadow parley with king Edward.

GAVESTON.

Treacherous earle, shall I not see the king?

WARWICKE.

The king of heaven perhaps, no other king,

Away.

Exeunt Warwicke and his men, with Gaveston.

Manet James cum cæteris.

JAMES.

Come fellowes, it booted not for us to strive,

We will in hast go certifie our Lord.

Exeunt.

[III.i]

Enter king Edward and Spencer, [Baldock,] with Drummes and Fifes.

EDWARD.

I long to heare an answer from the Barons

Touching my friend, my deerest Gaveston.

Ah Spencer, not the riches of my realme

Can ransome him, ah he is markt to die,

I know the malice of the yonger Mortimer,

Warwick I know is roughe, and Lancaster

Inexorable, and I shall never see

My lovely Pierce, my Gaveston againe,

The Barons overbeare me with their pride.

SPENCER.

Were I king Edward, Englands soveraigne,

Sonne to the lovelie Elenor of Spaine,

Great Edward Longshankes issue: would I beare

These braves, this rage, and suffer uncontrowld

These Barons thus to beard me in my land,

In mine owne realme? my lord pardon my speeche,

Did you retaine your fathers magnanimitie,

Did you regard the honor of your name,

You would not suffer thus your majestie

Be counterbuft of your nobilitie.

Strike off their heads, and let them preach on poles,

No doubt, such lessons they will teach the rest,

As by their preachments they will profit much,

And learne obedience to their lawfull king.

EDWARD.

Yea gentle Spencer, we have beene too milde,

Too kinde to them, but now have drawne our sword,

And if they send me not my Gaveston,

Weele steele it on their crest, and powle their tops.

BALDOCK.

This haught resolve becomes your majestie,

Not to be tied to their affection,

As though your highnes were a schoole boy still,

And must be awde and governd like a child.

Enter Hugh Spencer an old man, father to the yong Spencer, with his trunchion, and soldiers.

SPENCER PATER.

Long live my soveraigne the noble Edward,

In peace triumphant, fortunate in warres.

EDWARD.

Welcome old man, comst thou in Edwards aide?

Then tell thy prince, of whence, and what thou art.

SPENCER PATER.

Loe, with a band of bowmen and of pikes,

Browne bils, and targetiers, foure hundred strong,

Sworne to defend king Edwards royall right,

I come in person to your majestie,

Spencer, the father of Hugh Spencer there,

Bound to your highnes everlastinglie,

For favors done in him, unto us all.

EDWARD.

Thy father Spencer?

SPENCER.

True, and it like your grace,

That powres in lieu of all your goodnes showne,

His life, my lord, before your princely feete.

EDWARD.

Welcome ten thousand times, old man againe.

Spencer, this love, this kindnes to thy King,

Argues thy noble minde and disposition:

Spencer, I heere create thee earle of Wilshire,

And daily will enrich thee with our favour,

That as the sun-shine shall reflect ore thee:

Beside, the more to manifest our love,

Because we heare Lord Bruse dooth sell his land,

And that the Mortimers are in hand withall,

Thou shalt have crownes of us, t'out bid the Barons,

And Spencer, spare them not, but lay it on.

Souldiers a largis, and thrice welcome all.

SPENCER.

My lord, here comes the Queene.

Enter the Queene and her sonne, and Levune a Frenchman.

EDWARD.

Madam, what newes?

QUEENE.

Newes of dishonor lord, and discontent,

Our friend Levune, faithfull and full of trust,

Informeth us, by letters and by words,

That lord Valoyes our brother, king of Fraunce,

Because your highnesse hath beene slack in homage,

Hath seazed Normandie into his hands.

These be the letters, this the messenger.

EDWARD.

Welcome Levune, tush Sib, if this be all,

Valoys and I will soone be friends againe.

But to my Gaveston: shall I never see,

Never behold thee now? Madam in this matter

We will employ you and your little sonne,

You shall go parley with the king of Fraunce.

Boye, see you beare you bravelie to the king,

And do your message with a majestie.

PRINCE.

Commit not to my youth things of more waight

Then fits a prince so yong as I to beare,

And feare not lord and father, heavens great beames

On Atlas shoulder, shall not lie more safe,

Then shall your charge committed to my trust.

QUEENE.

A boye, this towardnes makes thy mother feare

Thou art not markt to many daies on earth.

EDWARD.

Madam, we will that you with speed be shipt,

And this our sonne, Levune shall follow you,

With all the hast we can dispatch him hence.

Choose of our lords to beare you companie,

And go in peace, leave us in warres at home.

QUEENE.

Unnatural wars, where subjects brave their king,

God end them once, my lord I take my leave,

To make my preparation for Fraunce.

Enter lord Arundell.

EDWARD.

What lord Arundell, dost thou come alone?

ARUNDELL.

Yea my good lord, for Gaveston is dead.

EDWARD.

Ah traitors, have they put my friend to death?

Tell me Arundell, died he ere thou camst,

Or didst thou see my friend to take his death?

ARUNDELL.

Neither my lord, for as he was surprizd,

Begirt with weapons, and with enemies round,

I did your highnes message to them all,

Demanding him of them, entreating rather,

And said, upon the honour of my name,

That I would undertake to carrie him

Unto your highnes, and to bring him back.

EDWARD.

And tell me, would the rebels denie me that?

SPENCER.

Proud recreants.

EDWARD.

Yea Spencer, traitors all.

ARUNDELL.

I found them at the first inexorable,

The earle of Warwick would not bide the hearing,

Mortimer hardly, Penbrooke and Lancaster

Spake least: and when they flatly had denyed,

Refusing to receive me pledge for him,

The earle of Penbrooke mildlie thus bespake.

My lords, because our soveraigne sends for him,

And promiseth he shall be safe returnd,

I will this undertake, to have him hence,

And see him redelivered to your hands.

EDWARD.

Well, and how fortunes that he came not?

SPENCER.

Some treason, or some villanie was cause.

ARUNDELL.

The earle of Warwick seazde him on his way,

For being delivered unto Penbrookes men,

Their lord rode home, thinking his prisoner safe,

But ere he came, Warwick in ambush laie,

And bare him to his death, and in a trenche

Strake off his head, and marcht unto the campe.

SPENCER.

A bloudie part, flatly against law of armes.

EDWARD.

O shall I speake, or shall I sigh and die!

SPENCER.

My lord, referre your vengeance to the sword,

Upon these Barons, harten up your men,

Let them not unrevengd murther your friends,

Advaunce your standard Edward in the field,

And marche to fire them from their starting holes.

Edward kneeles, and saith.

By earth, the common mother of us all,

By heaven, and all the mooving orbes thereof,

By this right hand, and by my fathers sword,

And all the honors longing to my crowne,

I will have heads, and lives, for him as many,

As I have manors, castels, townes, and towers:

Tretcherous Warwicke, traiterous Mortimer,

If I be Englands king, in lakes of gore

Your headles trunkes, your bodies will I traile,

That you may drinke your fill, and quaffe in bloud,

And staine my roiall standard with the same,

That so my bloudie colours may suggest

Remembrance of revenge immortallie,

On your accursed traiterous progenie,

You villaines that have slaine my Gaveston:

And in this place of honor and of trust, [Rises.]

Spencer, sweet Spencer, I adopt thee heere,

And meerely of our love we do create thee

Earle of Gloster, and lord Chamberlaine,

Despite of times, despite of enemies.

SPENCER.

My lord, here is a messenger from the Barons,

Desires accesse unto your majestie.

EDWARD.

Admit him neere.

Enter the Herald from the Barons, with his coate of

armes.

HERALD.

Long live king Edward, Englands lawful lord.

EDWARD.

So wish not they Iwis that sent thee hither,

Thou comst from Mortimer and his complices,

A ranker route of rebels never was:

Well, say thy message.

HERALD.

The Barons up in armes, by me salute

Your highnes, with long life and happines,

And bid me say as plainer to your grace,

That if without effusion of bloud,

You will this have ease and remedie,

That from your princely you remoove

This Spencer, as a putrifying branche,

That deads the royall vine, whose golden leaves

Empale your princelie head, your diadem,

Whose brightnes such pernitious upstarts dim,

Say they, and lovinglie advise your grace,

To cherish vertue and nobilitie,

And have old servitors in high esteeme,

And shake off smooth dissembling flatterers:

This graunted, they, their honors, and their lives,

Are to your highnesse vowd and consecrate.

SPENCER.

A traitors, will they still display their pride?

EDWARD.

Away, tarrie no answer, but be gon.

Rebels, will they appoint their soveraigne

His sports, his pleasures, and his companie:

Yet ere thou go, see how I do devorce Embrace Spencer.

Spencer from me: now get thee to thy lords,

And tell them I will come to chastise them,

For murthering Gaveston: hie thee, get thee gone,

Edward with fire and sword, followes at thy heeles.

[Exit Herald.]

My lords, perceive you how these rebels swell:

Souldiers, good harts, defend your soveraignes right,

For now, even now, we marche to make them stoope,

Away.

Exeunt.

Alarums, excursions, a great fight, and a retreate.

Enter the King, Spencer the father, Spencer the sonne, and the noblemen of the kings side.

EDWARD.

Why do we sound retreat? upon them lords,

This day I shall powre vengeance with my sword

On those proud rebels that are up in armes,

And do confront and countermaund their king.

SPENCER.

I doubt it not my lord, right will prevaile.

SPENCER PATER.

Tis not amisse my liege for eyther part,

To breathe a while, our men with sweat and dust

All chockt well neare, begin to faint for heate,

And this retire refresheth horse and man.

SPENCER. Heere come the rebels.

Enter the Barons, Mortimer, Lancaster, Warwick, Penbrooke, cum cœteris.

MORTIMER.

Looke Lancaster,

Yonder is Edward among his flatterers.

LANCASTER.

And there let him bee,

Till hee pay deerely for their companie.

WARWICKE.

And shall or Warwicks sword shal smite in vaine.

EDWARD.

What rebels, do you shrinke, and sound retreat?

MORTIMER.

No Edward, no, thy flatterers faint and flie.

LANCASTER.

Th'ad best betimes forsake them and their trains,

For theile betray thee, traitors as they are.

SPENCER.

Traitor on thy face, rebellious Lancaster.

PENBROOKE.

Away base upstart, brav'st thou nobles thus?

SPENCER PATER.

A noble attempt, and honourable deed,

Is it not, trowe ye, to assemble aide,

And levie armes against your lawfull king?

EDWARD.

For which ere long, their heads shall satisfie,

T'appeaze the wrath of their offended king.

MORTIMER.

Then Edward, thou wilt fight it to the last,

And rather bathe thy sword in subjects bloud,

Then banish that pernicious companie?

EDWARD.

I traitors all, rather then thus be bravde,

Make Englands civill townes huge heapes of stones,

And plowes to go about our pallace gates.

WARWICKE.

A desperate and unnaturall resolution,

Alarum to the fight,

Saint George for England, and the Barons right.

EDWARD.

Saint George for England, and king Edwards right.

[Exeunt severally. Alarums.]

Enter Edward, with the Barons [and Kent] captives.

EDWARD.

Now lustie lords, now not by chance of warre,

But justice of the quarrell and the cause,

Vaild is your pride: me thinkes you hang the heads,

But weele advance them traitors, now tis time

To be avengd on you for all your braves,

And for the murther of my deerest friend,

To whome right well you knew our soule was knit,

Good Pierce of Gaveston my sweet favoret,

A rebels, recreants, you made him away.

KENT.

Brother, in regard of thee and of thy land,

Did they remoove that flatterer from thy throne.

EDWARD.

So sir, you have spoke, away, avoid our presence.

[Exit Kent.]

Accursed wretches, wast in regard of us,

When we had sent our messenger to request

He might be spared to come to speake with us,

And Penbrooke undertooke for his returne,

That thou proud Warwicke watcht the prisoner,

Poore Pierce, and headed him against lawe of armes?

For which thy head shall over looke the rest,

As much as thou in rage out wentst the rest.

WARWICKE.

Tyrant, I scorne thy threats and menaces,

Tis but temporall that thou canst inflict.

LANCASTER.

The worst is death, and better die to live,

Then live in infamie under such a king.

EDWARD.

Away with them: my lord of Winchester,

These lustie leaders Warwicke and Lancaster,

I charge you roundly off with both their heads,

Away.

WARWICKE.

Farewell vaine worlde.

LANCASTER.

Sweete Mortimer farewell.

[Barons led off by Spencer pater.]

MORTIMER.

England, unkinde to thy nobilitie,

Grone for this greefe, behold how thou art maimed.

EDWARD.

Go take that haughtie Mortimer to the tower,

There see him safe bestowed, and for the rest,

Do speedie execution on them all,

Be gon.

MORTIMER.

What Mortimer? can ragged stonie walles

Immure thy vertue that aspires to heaven?

No Edward, Englands scourge, it may not be,

Mortimers hope surmounts his fortune farre.

[Exit guarded.]

EDWARD.

Sound drums and trumpets, marche with me my friends,

Edward this day hath crownd him king a new.

Exit [attended].

Manent Spencer filius, Levune and Baldock.

SPENCER.

Levune, the trust that we repose in thee,

Begets the quiet of king Edwards land,

Therefore be gon in hast, and with advice,

Bestowe that treasure on the lords of Fraunce,

That therewith all enchaunted like the guarde,

That suffered Jove to passe in showers of golde

To Danae, all aide may be denied

To Isabell the Queene, that now in France

Makes friends, to crosse the seas with her yong sonne,

And step into his fathers regiment.

LEVUNE.

Thats it these Barons and the subtill Queene,

Long leveld at.

BALDOCK.

Yea, but Levune thou seest,

These Barons lay their heads on blocks together,

What they intend, the hangman frustrates cleane.

LEVUNE.

Have you no doubts my lords, ile clap so close,

Among the lords of France with Englands golde,

That Isabell shall make her plaints in vaine,

And Fraunce shall be obdurat with her teares.

SPENCER.

Then make for Fraunce amaine, Levune away,

Proclaime king Edwards warres and victories.

Exeunt omnes.

[IV.i]

Enter Edmund [earle of Kent].

KENT.

Faire blowes the winde for Fraunce, blowe gentle gale,

Till Edmund be arrivde for Englands good,

Nature, yeeld to my countries cause in this.

A brother, no, a butcher of thy friends,

Proud Edward, doost thou banish me thy presence?

But ile to Fraunce, and cheere the wronged Queene,

And certifie what Edwards loosenes is.

Unnaturall king, to slaughter noble men

And cherish flatterers:

Mortimer I stay thy sweet escape,

Stand gratious gloomie night to his device.

Enter Mortimer disguised.

MORTIMER.

Holla, who walketh there, ist you my lord?

KENT.

Mortimer tis I,

But hath thy potion wrought so happilie?

MORTIMER.

It hath my lord, the warders all a sleepe,

I thanke them, gave me leave to passe in peace:

But hath your grace got shipping unto Fraunce?

KENT. Feare it not.

Exeunt.

[IV.ii]

Enter the Queene and her sonne.

QUEENE.

A boye, our friends do faile us all in Fraunce,

The lords are cruell, and the king unkinde,

What shall we doe?

PRINCE.

Madam, returne to England,

And please my father well, and then a Fig

For all my unckles frienship here in Fraunce.

I warrant you, ile winne his highnes quicklie,

A loves me better than a thousand Spencers.

QUEENE.

A boye, thou art deceivde at least in this,

To thinke that we can yet be tun'd together,

No, no, we jarre too farre. Unkinde Valoys,

Unhappie Isabell, when Fraunce rejects,

Whether, O whether doost thou bend thy steps?

Enter sir John of Henolt.

SIR JOHN.

Madam, what cheere?

QUEENE.

A good sir John of Henolt,

Never so cheereles, nor so farre distrest.

SIR JOHN.

I heare sweete lady of the kings unkindenes,

But droope not madam, noble mindes contemne

Despaire: will your grace with me to Henolt,

And there stay times advantage with your sonne?

How say you my Lord, will you go with your friends,

And shake off all our fortunes equallie?

PRINCE.

So pleaseth the Queene my mother, me it likes.

The king of England, nor the court of Fraunce,

Shall have me from my gratious mothers side,

Till I be strong enough to breake a staffe,

And then have at the proudest Spencers head.

SIR JOHN.

Well said my lord.

QUEENE.

Oh my sweet hart, how do I mone thy wrongs,

Yet triumphe in the hope of thee my joye?

Ah sweete sir John, even to the utmost verge

Of Europe, or the shore of Tanaise,

Will we with thee to Henolt, so we will.

The Marques is a noble Gentleman,

His grace I dare presume will welcome me,

But who are these?

Enter Edmund [earle of Kent] and Mortimer.

KENT.

Madam, long may you live,

Much happier then your friends in England do.

QUEENE.

Lord Edmund and lord Mortimer alive?

Welcome to Fraunce: the newes was heere my lord,

That you were dead, or very neare your death.

MORTIMER.

Lady, the last was truest of the twaine,

But Mortimer reservde for better hap,

Hath shaken off the thraldome of the tower,

And lives t'advance your standard good my lord.

PRINCE.

How meane you, and the king my father lives?

No my lord Mortimer, not I, I trow.

QUEENE.

Not sonne, why not? I would it were no worse,

But gentle lords, friendles we are in Fraunce.

MORTIMER.

Mounsier le Grand, a noble friend of yours,

Tould us at our arrivall all the newes,

How hard the nobles, how unkinde the king

Hath shewed himself: but madam, right makes roome,

Where weapons want, and though a many friends

Are made away, as Warwick, Lancaster,

And others of our partie and faction,

Yet have we friends, assure your grace, in England

Would cast up cappes, and clap their hands for joy,

To see us there appointed for our foes.

KENT.

Would all were well, and Edward well reclaimd,

For Englands honor, peace, and quietnes.

MORTIMER.

But by the sword, my lord, it must be deserv'd.

The king will nere forsake his flatterers.

SIR JOHN.

My Lords of England, sith the ungentle king

Of Fraunce refuseth to give aide of armes,

To this distressed Queene his sister heere,

Go you with her to Henolt: doubt yee nor,

We will finde comfort, money, men, and friends

Ere long, to bid the English king a base.

How say yong Prince, what thinke you of the match?

PRINCE.

I thinke king Edward will out-run us all.

QUEENE.

Nay sonne, not so, and you must not discourage

Your friends that are so forward in your aide.

KENT.

Sir John of Henolt, pardon us I pray,

These comforts that you give our wofull queene,

Binde us in kindenes all at your commaund.

QUEENE.

Yea gentle brother, and the God of heaven,

Prosper your happie motion good sir John.

MORTIMER.

This noble gentleman, forward in armes,

Was borne I see to be our anchor hold.

Sir John of Henolt, be it thy renowne,

That Englands Queene, and nobles in distresse,

Have beene by thee restored and comforted.

SIR JOHN.

Madam along, and you my lord, with me,

That Englands peeres may Henolts welcome see.

[Exeunt.]

[IV.iii]

Enter the King, Arundell, the two Spencers, with others.

EDWARD.

Thus after many threats of wrathfull warre,

Triumpheth Englands Edward with his friends,

And triumph Edward with his friends uncontrould.

My lord of Gloster, do you heare the newes?

SPENCER.

What newes my lord?

EDWARD.

Why man, they say there is great execution

Done through the realme, my lord of Arundell

You have the note, have you not?

ARUNDELL.

From the lieutenant of the tower my lord.

EDWARD.

I pray let us see it, what have we there?

Read it Spencer.

Spencer reads their names.

Why so, they barkt a pace a month agoe,

Now on my life, theile neither barke nor bite.

Now sirs, the newes from Fraunce. Gloster, I trowe

The lords of Fraunce love Englands gold so well,

As Isabella gets no aide from thence.

What now remaines, have you proclaimed, my lord,

Reward for them can bring in Mortimer?

SPENCER.

My lord, we have, and if he be in England,

A will be had ere long I doubt it not.

EDWARD.

If, doost thou say? Spencer, as true as death,

He is in Englands ground, our port-maisters

Are not so careles of their kings commaund.

Enter a Poaste.

How now, what newes with thee, from whence come these?

POST.

Letters my lord, and tidings foorth of Fraunce,

To you my lord of Gloster from Levune.

EDWARD. Reade.

Spencer reades the letter.

My dutie to your honor premised, etc. I have according to instructions in that behalfe, dealt with the king of Fraunce his lords, and effected, that the Queene all discontented and discomforted, is gone, whither if you aske, with sir John of Henolt, brother to the Marquesse, into Flounders: with them are gone lord Edmund, and the lord Mortimer, having in their company divers of your nation, and others, and as constant report goeth, they intend to give king Edward battell in England, sooner then he can looke for them: this is all the newes of import.

Your honors in all service, Levune.

EDWARD.

A villaines, hath that Mortimer escapt?

With him is Edmund gone associate?

And will sir John of Henolt lead the round?

Welcome a Gods name Madam and your sonne,

England shall welcome you, and all your route.

Gallop a pace bright Phœbus through the skie,

And duskie night, in rustie iron carre:

Betweene you both, shorten the time I pray,

That I may see that most desired day,

When we may meet these traitors in the field.

Ah nothing greeves me but my little boye,

Is thus misled to countenance their ils.

Come friends to Bristow, there to make us strong,

And windes as equall be to bring them in,

As you injurious were to beare them foorth.

[Exeunt.]

[IV.iv]

Enter the Queene, her sonne, Edmund [earle of Kent], Mortimer, and sir John.

QUEENE.

Now lords, our loving friends and countrimen,

Welcome to England all with prosperous windes,

Our kindest friends in Belgia have we left,

To cope with friends at home: a heavie case,

When force to force is knit, and sword and gleave

In civill broiles makes kin and country men

Slaughter themselves in others and their sides

With their owne weapons gorde, but whats the helpe?

Misgoverned kings are cause of all this wrack,

And Edward thou art one among them all,

Whose loosnes hath betrayed thy land to spoyle,

And made the channels overflow with blood,

Of thine own people patron shouldst thou be

But thou –

MORTIMER.

Nay madam, if you be a warriar,

Ye must not grow so passionate in speeches:

Lords, sith that we are by sufferance of heaven,

Arrivde and armed in this princes right,

Heere for our countries cause sweare we to him

All homage, fealtie and forwardnes,

And for the open wronges and injuries

Edward hath done to us, his Queene and land,

We come in armes to wrecke it with the sword:

That Englands queene in peace may reposesse

Her dignities and honors, and withall

We may remoove these flatterers from the king,

That havocks Englands wealth and treasurie.

SIR JOHN.

Sound trumpets my lord and forward let us martch,

Edward will thinke we come to flatter him.

KENT.

I would he never had bin flattered more.

[Exeunt.]

[IV.v]

Enter the King, Baldock, and Spencer the sonne, flying about the stage.

SPENCER.

Fly, fly, my Lord, the Queene is over strong,

Her friends doe multiply and yours doe fayle,

Shape we our course to Ireland there to breath.

EDWARD.

What, was I borne to flye and runne away,

And leave the Mortimers conquerers behind?

Give me my horse and lets r'enforce our troupes:

And in this bed of honor die with fame.

BALDOCK.

O no my lord, this princely resolution

Fits not the time, away, we are pursu'd.

[Exeunt.]

[IV.vi]

[Enter] Edmund [earle of Kent] alone with a sword and target.

KENT.

This way he fled, but I am come too late.

Edward, alas my hart relents for thee,

Proud traytor Mortimer why doost thou chase

Thy lawfull king thy soveraigne with thy sword?

Vilde wretch, and why hast thou of all unkinde,

Borne armes against thy brother and thy king?

Raigne showers of vengeance on my cursed head

Thou God, to whom in justice it belongs

To punish this unnaturall revolt:

Edward, this Mortimer aimes at thy life:

O fly him then, but Edmund calme this rage,

Dissemble or thou diest, for Mortimer

And Isabell doe kisse while they conspire,

And yet she beares a face of love forsooth:

Fie on that love that hatcheth death and hate.

Edmund away, Bristow to Longshankes blood

Is false, be not found single for suspect:

Proud Mortimer pries neare into thy walkes.

Enter the Queene, Mortimer, the young Prince and

Sir John of Henolt.

QUEENE.

Succesfull battells gives the God of kings,

To them that fight in right and feare his wrath:

Since then succesfully we have prevayled,

Thankes be heavens great architect and you.

Ere farther we proceede my noble lordes,

We heere create our welbeloved sonne,

Of love and care unto his royall person,

Lord warden of the realme, and sith the fates

Have made his father so infortunate,

Deale you my lords in this, my loving lords,

As to your wisdomes fittest seemes in all.

KENT.

Madam, without offence if I may aske,

How will you deale with Edward in his fall?

PRINCE.

Tell me good unckle, what Edward doe you meane?

KENT.

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

MORTIMER.

My lord of Kent, what needes these questions?

Tis not in her controulment, nor in ours,

But as the realme and parlement shall please,

So shall your brother be disposed of.

I like not this relenting moode in Edmund,

[To Queene.]

Madam, tis good to looke to him betimes.

QUEENE.

My lord, the Maior of Bristow knows our mind.

MORTIMER.

Yea madam, and they scape not easilie,

That fled the feeld.

QUEENE.

Baldock is with the king,

A goodly chauncelor, is he not my lord?

SIR JOHN.

So are the Spencers, the father and the sonne.

KENT.

This, Edward, is the ruine of the realme.

[Aside.]

Enter Rice ap Howell, and the Maior of Bristow, with Spencer the father.

RICE.

God save Queene Isabell, and her princely sonne.

Madam, the Maior and Citizens of Bristow,

In signe of love and dutie to this presence,

Present by me this traitor to the state,

Spencer, the father to that wanton Spencer,

That like the lawles Catiline of Rome,

Reveld in Englands wealth and treasurie.

QUEENE.

We thanke you all.

MORTIMER.

Your loving care in this,

Deserveth princelie favors and rewardes,

But wheres the king and the other Spencer fled?

RICE.

Spencer the sonne, created earle of Gloster,

Is with that smoothe toongd scholler Baldock gone,

And shipt but late for Ireland with the king.

MORTIMER.

Some whirle winde fetche them backe, or sincke them all: –

[Aside.]

They shalbe started thence I doubt it not.

PRINCE.

Shall I not see the king my father yet?

KENT.

Unhappie Edward, chaste from Englands bounds.

[Aside.]

SIR JOHN.

Madam, what resteth, why stand ye in a muse?

QUEENE.

I rue my lords ill fortune, but alas,

Care of my countrie cald me to this warre.

MORTIMER.

Madam, have done with care and sad complaint,

Your king hath wrongd your countrie and himselfe,

And we must seeke to right it as we may,

Meane while, have hence this rebell to the blocke,

Your lordship cannot priviledge your head.

SPENCER PATER.

Rebell is he that fights against his prince,

So fought not they that fought in Edwards right.

MORTIMER.

Take him away, he prates. You Rice ap Howell,

[Spencer led off.]

Shall do good service to her Majestie,

Being of countenance in your countrey here,

To follow these rebellious runnagates.

We in meane while madam, must take advise,

How Baldocke, Spencer, and their complices,

May in their fall be followed to their end.

Exeunt omnes.

[IV.vii]

Enter the Abbot, Monkes, Edward, Spencer, and Baldocke [disguised as monks].

ABBOT.

Have you no doubt my Lorde, have you no feare,

As silent and as carefull will we be,

To keepe your royall person safe with us,

Free from suspect, and fell invasion

Of such as have your majestie in chase,

Your selfe, and those your chosen companie,

As daunger of this stormie time requires.

EDWARD.

Father, thy face should harbor no deceit,

O hadst thou ever beene a king, thy hart

Pierced deeply with sence of my distresse,

Could not but take compassion of my state.

Stately and proud, in riches and in traine,

Whilom I was, powerfull and full of pompe,

But what is he, whome rule and emperie

Have not in life or death made miserable?

Come Spencer, come Baldocke, come sit downe by me,

Make triall now of that philosophie,

That in our famous nurseries of artes

Thou suckedst from Plato, and from Aristotle.

Father, this life contemplative is heaven,

O that I might this life in quiet lead,

But we alas are chaste, and you my friends,

Your lives and my dishonor they pursue,

Yet gentle monkes, for treasure, golde nor fee,

Do you betray us and our companie.

MONK.

Your grace may sit secure, if none but wee

Doe wot of your abode.

SPENCER.

Not one alive, but shrewdly I suspect,

A gloomie fellow in a meade belowe,

A gave a long looke after us my lord,

And all the land I know is up in armes,

Armes that pursue our lives with deadly hate.

BALDOCK.

We were imbarkt for Ireland, wretched we,

With awkward windes, and sore tempests driven

To fall on shoare, and here to pine in feare

Of Mortimer and his confederates.

EDWARD.

Mortimer, who talkes of Mortimer,

Who wounds me with the name of Mortimer

That bloudy man? good father on thy lap

Lay I this head, laden with mickle care,

O might I never open these eyes againe,

Never againe lift up this drooping head,

O never more lift up this dying hart!

SPENCER.

Looke up my lord.