Edward the Second Part 10

_Kent._ Madam, without offence if I may ask How will you deal with Edward in his fall?

_P. Edw._ Tell me, good uncle, what Edward do you mean?

_Kent._ Nephew, your father; I dare not call him king.

_Y. Mor._ My Lord of Kent, what needs these questions?

'Tis not in her controlment nor in ours; But as the realm and parliament shall please, So shall your brother be disposed of.-- I like not this relenting mood in Edmund: Madam, 'tis good to look to him betimes. [_Aside to the Queen._ _Q. Isab._ My lord, the Mayor of Bristow knows our mind.

_Y. Mor._ Yea, madam; and they scape not easily That fled the field.

_Q. Isab._ Baldock is with the king: A goodly chancellor, is he not, my lord?

_Sir J._ So are the Spensers, the father and the son.

_Y. Mor._ This Edward is the ruin of the realm.

_Enter_ RICE AP HOWEL _with the elder_ SPENSER _prisoner, and_ Attendants.

_Rice._ G.o.d save Queen Isabel and her princely son!

Madam, the Mayor and citizens of Bristow, In sign of love and duty to this presence, Present by me this traitor to the state, Spenser, the father to that wanton Spenser, That, like the lawless Catiline of Rome, Revell'd in England's wealth and treasury.

_Isab._ We thank you all.

_Y. Mor._ Your loving care in this Deserveth princely favours and rewards.

But where's the king and the other Spenser fled?

_Rice._ Spenser the son, created Earl of Glocester, Is with that smooth-tongu'd scholar Baldock gone, And s.h.i.+pp'd but late for Ireland with the king.

_Y. Mor._ Some whirlwind fetch them back, or sink them all!-- [_Aside._ They shall be started thence, I doubt it not.

_P. Edw._ Shall I not see the king my father yet?

_Kent._ Unhappy Edward, chas'd from England's bounds! [_Aside._ _Sir J._ Madam, what resteth? why stand you in a muse?

_Q. Isab._ I rue my lord's ill-fortune: but, alas, Care of my country call'd me to this war!

_Y. Mor._ Madam, have done with care and sad complaint: Your king hath wrong'd your country and himself, And we must seek to right it as we may.-- Meanwhile have hence this rebel to the block.

_E. Spen._ Rebel is he that fights against the prince: So fought not they that fought in Edward's right.

_Y. Mor._ Take him away; he prates.

[_Exeunt Attendants with the elder Spenser._ You, Rice ap Howel, Shall do good service to her majesty, Being of countenance in your country here, To follow these rebellious runagates.-- We in mean while, madam, must take advice.

How Baldock, Spenser, and their complices, May in their fall be follow'd to their end. [_Exeunt._

_Enter the_ Abbot, Monks, KING EDWARD, _the younger_ SPENSER, _and_ BALDOCK (_the three latter disguised_).

_Abbot._ Have you no doubt, my lord; have you no fear: As silent and as careful we will be To keep your royal person safe with us, Free from suspect, and fell invasion Of such as have your majesty in chase, Yourself, and those your chosen company, As danger of this stormy time requires.

_K. Edw._ Father, thy face should harbour no deceit.

O, hadst thou ever been a king, thy heart, Pierc'd deeply with sense of my distress, Could not but take compa.s.sion of my state!

Stately and proud in riches and in train, Whilom I was, powerful and full of pomp: But what is he whom rule and empery Have not in life or death made miserable?-- Come, Spenser,--come, Baldock,--come, sit down by me; Make trial now of that philosophy That in our famous nurseries of arts Thou suck'dst from Plato and from Aristotle.-- Father, this life contemplative is heaven: O, that I might this life in quiet lead!

But we, alas, are chas'd!--and you, my friends, Your lives and my dishonour they pursue.-- Yet, gentle monks, for treasure, gold, nor fee, Do you betray us and our company.

_First Monk._ Your grace may sit secure, if none but we Do wot of your abode.

_Y. Spen._ Not one alive: but shrewdly I suspect A gloomy fellow in a mead below; 'A gave a long look after us, my lord; And all the land, I know, is up in arms, Arms that pursue our lives with deadly hate.

_Bald._ We were embark'd for Ireland; wretched we, With awkward winds and with sore tempests driven, To fall on sh.o.r.e, and here to pine in fear Of Mortimer and his confederates!

_K. Edw._ Mortimer! who talks of Mortimer?

Who wounds me with the name of Mortimer, That b.l.o.o.d.y man?--Good father, on thy lap Lay I this head, laden with mickle care.

O, might I never ope these eyes again, Never again lift up this drooping head, O, never more lift up this dying heart!

_Y. Spen._ Look up, my lord.--Baldock, this drowsiness Betides no good; here even we are betray'd.

_Enter, with Welsh hooks,_ RICE AP HOWEL, _a_ Mower, _and_ LEICESTER.

_Mow._ Upon my life, these be the men ye seek.

_Rice._ Fellow, enough.--My lord, I pray, be short; A fair commission warrants what we do.

_Leices._ The queen's commission, urg'd by Mortimer: What cannot gallant Mortimer with the queen?-- Alas, see where he sits, and hopes unseen T'escape their hands that seek to reave his life!

Too true it is, _Quem dies vidit veniens superb.u.m, Hunc dies vidit fugiens jacentem._ But, Leicester, leave to grow so pa.s.sionate.-- Spenser and Baldock, by no other names, I arrest you of high treason here.

Stand not on t.i.tles, but obey th' arrest: 'Tis in the name of Isabel the queen.-- My lord, why droop you thus?

_K. Edw._ O day, the last of all my bliss on earth!

Centre of all misfortune! O my stars, Why do you lour unkindly on a king?

Comes Leicester, then, in Isabella's name, To take my life, my company from me?

Here, 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.

_Abbott._ My heart with pity earns to see this sight; A king to bear these words and proud commands! [_Aside._ _K. Edw._ Spenser, ah, sweet Spenser, thus, then, must we part?

_Y. Spen._ We must, my lord; so will the angry heavens.

_K. Edw._ Nay, so will h.e.l.l and cruel Mortimer: The gentle heavens 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.

_K. Edw._ In heaven we may, in earth ne'er shall we meet:-- And, Leicester, say, what shall become of us?

_Leices._ Your majesty must go to Killingworth.

_K. Edw._ Must! it is 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.

_K. Edw._ A litter hast thou? lay me in a hea.r.s.e, And to the gates of h.e.l.l convey me hence; Let Pluto's bells ring out my fatal knell, And hags howl for my death at Charon's sh.o.r.e; 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.

_K. Edw._ Well, that shall be shall be: part we must; Sweet Spenser, gentle Baldock, part we must.-- Hence, feigned weeds! unfeigned are my woes.-- [_Throwing off his disguise._ Father, farewell.--Leicester, thou stay'st for me; And go I must.--Life, farewell, with my friends!

[_Exeunt King Edward and Leicester._ _Y. Spen._ O, is he gone? is n.o.ble Edward gone?

Parted from hence, never to see us more!

Rend, sphere of heaven! and, fire, forsake thy orb!

Earth, melt to air! gone is my sovereign, Gone, gone, alas, never to make return!

_Bald._ Spenser, I see our souls are fleeting hence; We are depriv'd the suns.h.i.+ne of our life.

Make for a new life, man; throw up thy eyes And heart and hand to heaven's immortal throne; Pay nature's debt with cheerful countenance; Reduce we all our lessons unto this,-- To die, sweet Spenser, therefore live we all; Spenser, 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 England. Will your lords.h.i.+ps away?

_Mow._ Your lords.h.i.+p I trust will remember me?

_Rice._ Remember thee, fellow! what else? Follow me to the town. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ KING EDWARD, LEICESTER, _the_ BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, _and_ TRUSSEL.

_Leices._ Be patient, good my lord, cease to lament; Imagine Killingworth Castle were your court, And that you lay for pleasure here a s.p.a.ce, Not of compulsion or necessity.

_K. Edw._ Leicester, 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 the 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 outrageous pa.s.sions cloy my soul, As with the wings of rancour and disdain Full oft[ten] am I soaring up to heaven, To plain me to the G.o.ds against them both.

But when I call to mind I am a king, Methinks I should revenge me of my wrongs, That Mortimer and Isabel have done.

But what are kings, when regiment is gone, But perfect shadows in a suns.h.i.+ne day?

My n.o.bles rule; I bear the name of king, I wear the crown; but am controll'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. of Win._ Your grace mistakes; it is for England's good, And princely Edward's right, we crave the crown.

_K. Edw._ No, 'tis for Mortimer, not Edward's head For he's a lamb, emcompa.s.sed by wolves, Which in a moment will abridge his life.

But, if proud Mortimer do wear this crown, Heavens 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 vine be perished, But Edward's name survive, though Edward dies.

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

They stay your answer: will you yield your crown?

_K. Edw._ Ah, Leicester, 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 extreme my mind here murder'd is!

But that the heavens appoint I must obey.-- Here, take my crown; the life of Edward too: [_Taking off the crown._ 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 beams doth vanish fast away, And needs I must resign my wished crown.