Scene
VI
The Royal Palace, London.
Enter the Younger Mortimer and Matrevis.
Younger Mortimer
Is’t done, Matrevis, and the murderer dead?
Matrevis
Ay, my good lord: I would it were undone!
Younger Mortimer
Matrevis, if thou now grow’st penitent,
I’ll be thy ghostly father; therefore choose,
Whether thou wilt be secret in this,
Or else die by the hand of Mortimer.
Matrevis
Gurney, my lord, is fled, and will, I fear,
Betray us both; therefore let me fly.
Younger Mortimer
Fly to the savages!
Matrevis
I humbly thank your honour. Exit.
Younger Mortimer
As for myself, I stand as Jove’s huge tree,
And others are but shrubs compared to me:
All tremble at my name, and I fear none:
Let’s see who dare impeach me for his death!
Enter Queen Isabella.
Queen Isabella
Ah, Mortimer, the king my son hath news,
His father’s dead, and we have murdered him!
Younger Mortimer
What if he have? the king is yet a child.
Queen Isabella
Ay, but he tears his hair, and wrings his hands,
And vows to be revenged upon us both.
Into the council-chamber he is gone,
To crave the aid and succour of his peers.
Ay me, see where he comes, and they with him!
Now, Mortimer, begins our tragedy.
Enter King Edward III, Lords, and Attendants.
First Lord
Fear not, my lord; know that you are a king.
King Edward III
Villain!—
Younger Mortimer
Ho, now, my lord!
King Edward III
Think not that I am frighted with thy words:
My father’s murdered through thy treachery;
And thou shalt die, and on his mournful hearse
Thy hateful and accursed head shall lie,
To witness to the world that by thy means
His kingly body was too soon interred.
Queen Isabella
Weep not, sweet son.
King Edward III
Forbid not me to weep; he was my father;
And had you loved him half so well as I,
You could not bear his death thus patiently:
But you, I fear, conspired with Mortimer.
First Lord
Why speak you not unto my lord the king?
Younger Mortimer
Because I think scorn to be accused.
Who is the man dares say I murdered him?
King Edward III
Traitor, in me my loving father speaks,
And plainly saith, ’twas thou that murderedst him.
Younger Mortimer
But hath your grace no other proof than this?
King Edward III
Yes, if this be the hand of Mortimer. Showing letter.
Younger Mortimer
Aside to Queen Isabella. False Gurney hath betrayed me and himself.
Queen Isabella
I feared as much: murder can not be hid.
Younger Mortimer
It is my hand; what gather you by this?
King Edward III
That thither thou didst send a murderer.
Younger Mortimer
What murderer? bring forth the man I sent.
King Edward III
Ah, Mortimer, thou know’st that he is slain!
And so shalt thou be too.—Why stays he here?
Bring him unto a hurdle, drag him forth;
Hang him, I say, and set his quarters up:
And bring his head back presently to me.
Queen Isabella
For my sake, sweet son, pity Mortimer!
Younger Mortimer
Madam, entreat not: I will rather die
Than sue for life unto a paltry boy.
King Edward III
Hence with the traitor, with the murderer!
Younger Mortimer
Base Fortune, now I see, that in thy wheel
There is a point, to which when men aspire,
They tumble headlong down: that point I touched,
And, seeing there was no place to mount up higher,
Why should I grieve at my declining fall?—
Farewell, fair queen: weep not for Mortimer,
That scorns the world, and, as a traveller,
Goes to discover countries yet unknown.
King Edward III
What, suffer you the traitor to delay?
Exit the Younger Mortimer with First Lord and some of the Attendants.
Queen Isabella
As thou receivest thy life from me,
Spill not the blood of gentle Mortimer!
King Edward III
This argues that you spilt my father’s blood,
Else would you not entreat for Mortimer.
Queen Isabella
I spill his blood! no.
King Edward III
Ay, madam, you; for so the rumour runs.
Queen Isabella
That rumour is untrue: for loving thee,
Is this report raised on poor Isabel.
King Edward III
I do not think her so unnatural.
Second Lord
My lord, I fear me it will prove too true.
King Edward III
Mother, you are suspected for his death
And therefore we commit you to the Tower,
Till further trial may be made thereof.
If you be guilty, though I be your son,
Think not to find me slack or pitiful.
Queen Isabella
Nay, to my death; for too long have I lived,
Whenas my son thinks to abridge my days.
King Edward III
Away with her! her words enforce these tears,
And I shall pity her, if she speak again.
Queen Isabella
Shall I not mourn for my beloved lord?
And with the rest accompany him to his grave.
Second Lord
Thus, madam, ’tis the king’s will you shall hence.
Queen Isabella
He hath forgotten me: stay; I am his mother.
Second Lord
That boots not; therefore, gentle madam, go.
Queen Isabella
Then come, sweet death, and rid me of this grief! Exit with Second Lord and some of the Attendants.
Reenter First Lord, with the head of the Younger Mortimer.
First Lord
My lord, here is the head of Mortimer.
King Edward III
Go fetch my father’s hearse, where it shall lie;
And bring my funeral robes.
Exeunt Attendants.
Accursed head,
Could I have ruled thee then, as I do now,
Thou hadst not hatched this monstrous treachery!—
Here comes the hearse: help me to mourn, my lords.
Reenter Attendants, with the hearse and funeral robes.
Sweet father, here unto thy murdered ghost
I offer up the wicked traitor’s head;
And let these tears, distilling from mine eyes,
Be witness of my grief and innocency.
Exeunt.