How now! what news with thee? from whence come these?
Mess. Letters, my lord, and tidings forth of France:
To you, my Lord of Glocester, from Levune.
[Gives letters to young Spenser.
K. Edw. Read.
Y. Spen. [reading.] My duty to your honour promised, etc., I
have, according to instructions in that behalf, dealt with the
King of France and his lords, and effected that the queen, all
discontented and discomforted, is gone: whither, if you ask,
with Sir John of Hainault, brother to the marquis, into
Flanders. With them are gone Lord Edmund and the Lord
Mortimer, having in their company divers of your nation,
and others; and, as constant report goeth, they intend to
give King Edward battle in England, sooner than he can
look for them. This is all the news of import.
Your honour's in all service, Levune.
K. Edw. Ah, villains, hath that Mortimer escap'd?
With him is Edmund gone associate?
And will Sir John of Hainault lead the round?
Welcome, o' God's name, madam, and your son!
England shall welcome you and all your rout.
Gallop apace, bright Phbus, through the sky;
And, dusky Night, in rusty iron car,
Between you both shorten the time, I pray,
That I may see that most desired day,
When we may meet these traitors in the field!
Ah, nothing grieves me, but my little boy
Is thus misled to countenance their ills!
Come, friends, to Bristow, there to make us strong:
And, winds, as equal be to bring them in,
As you injurious were to bear them forth! [Exeunt.
Enter QUEEN ISABELLA, PRINCE EDWARD, KENT, the
younger MORTIMER, and SIR JOHN OF HAINAULT.
Q. Isab. Now, lords, our loving friends and countrymen,
Welcome to England all, with prosperous winds!
Our kindest friends in Belgia have we left,
To cope with friends at home; a heavy case
When force to force is knit, and sword and glaive
In civil broils make kin and countrymen
Slaughter themselves in others, and their sides
With their own weapons gor'd! But what's the help?
Misgovern'd kings are cause of all this wreck;
And, Edward, thou art one among them all,
Whose looseness hath betray'd thy land to spoil,
Who made the channel overflow with blood
Of thine own people: patron shouldst thou be;
But thou—
Y. Mor. Nay, madam, if you be a warrior,
You must not grow so passionate in speeches.—
Lords, sith that we are, by sufferance of heaven,
Arriv'd and armed in this prince's right,
Here for our country's cause swear we to him
All homage, fealty, and forwardness;
And for the open wrongs and injuries
Edward hath done to us, his queen, and land,
We come in arms to wreck it with the sword;
That England's queen in peace may repossess
Her dignities and honours; and withal
We may remove these flatterers from the king
That havock England's wealth and treasury.
Sir J. Sound trumpets, my lord, and forward let us march.
Edward will think we come to flatter him.
Kent. I would he never had been flatter'd more! [Exeunt.
Enter KING EDWARD, BALDOCK, and the younger SPENSER.
Y. Spen. 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.
K. Edw. 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.
Bald. O, no, my lord! this princely resolution
Fits not the time: away! we are pursu'd. [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 JOHN OF HAINAULT.
Q. Isab. Successful battle gives the God of kings
To them that fight in right, and fear in wrath,
Since, then, successfully we have prevail'd,
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?
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.