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[The scene is in the abbey of Neath]
Enter the Abbot, Monks, KING EDWARD, Young SPENCER, 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 | 4 |
| 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. | 8 |
| O! hadst thou ever been a king, thy heart, | |
| Pierced deeply with sense of my distress, | |
| Could not but take compassion of my state. | |
| Stately and proud, in riches and in train, | 12 |
| 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, Spencer; come, Baldock, come, sit down by me; | 16 |
| 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. | 20 |
| 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, | 24 |
| Do you betray us and our company. | |
| Monk. Your grace may sit secure, if none but we | |
| Do wot of your abode. | |
| Y. Spen. Not one alive; but shrewdly I suspect | 28 |
| 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. | 32 |
| Bald. We were embark’d for Ireland, wretched we! | |
| With awkward winds and [with] sore tempests driven | |
| To fall on shore, and here to pine in fear | |
| Of Mortimer and his confederates. | 36 |
| K. Edw. Mortimer! who talks of Mortimer? | |
| Who wounds me with the name of Mortimer, | |
| That bloody man? Good father, on thy lap | |
| Lay I this head, laden with mickle care. | 40 |
| O might I never open 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 | 44 |
| Betides no good; here even we are betray’d. | |
| |
Enter, with Welsh hooks, RICE AP HOWELL, 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. | 48 |
| Leices. The queen’s commission, urged by Mortimer; | |
| What cannot gallant Mortimer with the queen? | |
| Alas! see where he sits, and hopes unseen | |
| To escape their hands that seek to reave his life. | 52 |
| Too true it is, Quem dies vidit veniens superbum, | |
| Hunc dies vidit fugiens jacentem. 1 | |
| But, Leicester, leave to grow so passionate. | |
| Spencer and Baldock, by no other names, | 56 |
| I do arrest you of high treason here. | |
| Stand not on titles, but obey the arrest; | |
| ’Tis in the name of Isabel the queen. | |
| My lord, why droop you thus? | 60 |
| 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 | 64 |
| 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! | 68 |
| Y. Spen. It may become thee yet | |
| To let us take our farewell of his grace. | |
| Abbot. My heart with pity earns 2 to see this sight,— | |
| A king to bear these words and proud commands. [Aside.] | 72 |
| K. Edw. Spencer, ah, sweet Spencer, thus then must we part? | |
| Y. Spen. We must, my lord, so will the angry Heavens. | |
| K. Edw. Nay, so will hell and cruel Mortimer; | |
| The gentle Heavens have not to do in this. | 76 |
| 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: | 80 |
| And, Leicester, say, what shall become of us? | |
| Leices. Your majesty must go to Killingworth. 3 | |
| K. Edw. Must! it is somewhat hard, when kings must go. | |
| Leices. Here is a litter ready for your grace, | 84 |
| 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 hearse, | |
| And to the gates of hell convey me hence; | 88 |
| Let Pluto’s bells ring out my fatal knell, | |
| And hags howl for my death at Charon’s shore, | |
| For friends hath Edward none but these, | |
| And these must die under a tyrant’s sword. | 92 |
| 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 Spencer, gentle Baldock, part we must! | 96 |
| Hence feigned weeds! unfeigned are my woes; [Throws 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 noble Edward gone? | 100 |
| 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. | 104 |
| Bald. Spencer, I see our souls are fleeted hence; | |
| We are depriv’d the sunshine of our life: | |
| Make for a new life, man; throw up thy eyes, | |
| And heart, and hands to Heaven’s immortal throne; | 108 |
| Pay nature’s debt with cheerful countenance; | |
| Reduce we all our lessons unto this: | |
| To die, sweet Spencer, therefore live we all; | |
| Spencer, all live to die, and rise to fall. | 112 |
| 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 lordships away? | |
| Mow. Your lordship, I trust, will remember me? | |
| Rice. Remember thee, fellow! what else? Follow me to the town. [Exeunt.] | |
