Scene
V
Near Bristol.
Enter King Edward, Baldock, and the Younger Spenser.
Younger Spenser
Fly, fly, my lord! the queen is overstrong;
Her friends do multiply, and yours do fail.
Shape we our course to Ireland, there to breathe.
King Edward
What! was I born to fly and run away,
And leave the Mortimers conquerors behind?
Give me my horse, and let’s reinforce our troops.
And in this bed of honour die with fame.
Baldock
O, no, my lord! this princely resolution
Fits not the time: away! we are pursued.
Exeunt.
Enter Kent, with a sword and target.
Kent
This way he fled, but I am come too late.
Edward, alas, my heart relents for thee!
Proud traitor, Mortimer, why dost thou chase
Thy lawful king, thy sovereign, with thy sword?
Vile wretch, and why hast thou, of all unkind,
Borne arms against thy brother and thy king?
Rain showers of vengeance on my cursed head,
Thou God, to whom in justice it belongs
To punish this unnatural revolt!
Edward, this Mortimer aims at thy life!
O, fly him, then! But, Edmund, calm this rage;
Dissemble, or thou diest; for Mortimer
And Isabel do kiss, while they conspire:
And yet she bears a face of love, forsooth.
Fie on that love that hatcheth death and hate!
Edmund, away! Bristow to Longshanks’ blood
Is false; be not found single for suspect:
Proud Mortimer pries near into thy walks.
Enter Queen Isabella, Prince Edward, the Younger Mortimer, and Sir John of Hainault.
Queen Isabella
Successful battle gives the God of kings
To them that fight in right, and fear in wrath,
Since, then, successfully we have prevailed,
Thanked be heaven’s great architect, and you!
Ere farther we proceed, my noble lords,
We here create our well-beloved son,
Of love and care unto his royal person,
Lord Warden of the realm; and, sith the Fates
Have made his father so infortunate,
Deal you, my lords, in this, my loving lords,
As to your wisdoms fittest seems in all.
Kent
Madam, without offence if I may ask
How will you deal with Edward in his fall?
Prince Edward
Tell me, good uncle, what Edward do you mean?
Kent
Nephew, your father; I dare not call him king.
Younger Mortimer
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.—
Aside to the Queen. I like not this relenting mood in Edmund:
Madam, ’tis good to look to him betimes.
Queen Isabella
My lord, the Mayor of Bristow knows our mind.
Younger Mortimer
Yea, madam; and they scape not easily
That fled the field.
Queen Isabella
Baldock is with the king:
A goodly chancellor, is he not, my lord?
Sir John
So are the Spensers, the father and the son.
Younger Mortimer
This Edward is the ruin of the realm.
Enter Rice ap Howel with the Elder Spenser prisoner, and Attendants.
Rice ap Howel
God 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,
Revelled in England’s wealth and treasury.
Queen Isabella
We thank you all.
Younger Mortimer
Your loving care in this
Deserveth princely favours and rewards.
But where’s the king and the other Spenser fled?
Rice ap Howel
Spenser the son, created Earl of Gloucester,
Is with that smooth-tongued scholar Baldock gone,
And shipped but late for Ireland with the king.
Younger Mortimer
Aside. Some whirlwind fetch them back, or sink them all!—
They shall be started thence, I doubt it not.
Prince Edward
Shall I not see the king my father yet?
Kent
Aside. Unhappy Edward, chased from England’s bounds!
Sir John
Madam, what resteth? why stand you in a muse?
Queen Isabella
I rue my lord’s ill-fortune: but, alas,
Care of my country called me to this war!
Younger Mortimer
Madam, have done with care and sad complaint:
Your king hath wronged your country and himself,
And we must seek to right it as we may.—
Meanwhile have hence this rebel to the block.
Elder Spenser
Rebel is he that fights against the prince:
So fought not they that fought in Edward’s right.
Younger Mortimer
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 followed to their end.
Exeunt.