Act Four, Scene Six[Enter] Edmund [earle of Kent] alone with a sword and target.
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.
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 wisdomefittest seemes in all.
Madam, without offence if I may aske,
How will you deale with Edward in his fall?
Tell me good unckle, what Edward doe you meane?
Nephew, your father, I dare not call him king.
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.
My lord, the Maior of Bristow knows our mind.
Yea madam, and they scape not easilie,
That fled the feeld.
Baldock is with the king,
A goodly chauncelor, is he not my lord ?
So are the Spencers, the father and the sonne.
This, Edward, is the ruine of the realme.
Enter Rice ap Howell, and the Maior of Bristow, with Spencer the father.
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.
We thanke you all.
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.
Some whirle winde fetche them backe, or sincke them all:---
They shalbe started thence I doubt it not.
Shall I not see the king my father yet?
Unhappie Edward, chaste from Englands bounds.
Madam, what resteth, why stand ye in a muse?
I rue my lords ill fortune, but alas,
Care of my countrie cald me to this warre.
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.
Rebell is he that fights against his prince,
So fought not they that fought in Edwards right.
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.