Kent. This way he fled, but I am come too late.10 Edward, alas! my heart relents for thee. Proud traitor, Mortimer, why dost thou chase Thy lawful king, thy sovereign, with thy sword? Vild wretch! and why hast thou, of all unkind, Borne arms against thy brother and thy king? Rain showers of vengeance on my cursèd 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,20 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 unto thy walks.
Enter the Queen, Mortimer, the Young Prince, and Sir John of Hainault.
Queen. Successful [291] battle gives the God of kings To them that fight in right, and fear his wrath. Since then successfully we have prevailed,30 Thankèd be heaven's great architect, and you. Ere farther we proceed, my noble lords, We here create our well-belovèd 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?40
Prince. Tell me, good uncle, what Edward do you mean?
Kent. Nephew, your father: I dare not call him king.
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 disposèd of.— I like not this relenting mood in Edmund. Madam, 'tis good to look to him betimes. [Aside to the Queen.
Queen. My lord, the Mayor of Bristow knows our mind.
Y. Mor. Yea, madam, and they scape not easily50 That fled the field.
Queen. Baldock is with the king. A goodly chancellor, is he not, my lord?