Y. Spen. Not one alive, but shrewdly I suspect A gloomy fellow in a mead below. 'A gave a long look after us, my lord,30 And all the land I know is up in arms, Arms that pursue our lives with deadly hate.
Bald. We were embarked for Ireland, wretched we! With awkward winds and sore [295] tempests driven To fall on shore, and here to pine in fear Of Mortimer and his confederates.
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 ope [296] 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 Betides no good; here even we are betrayed.
Enter, with Welsh hooks, Rice ap Howell, a Mower, and the Earl of 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.
Leices. The queen's commission, urged by Mortimer; What cannot gallant Mortimer with the queen?50 Alas! see where he sits, and hopes unseen To escape their hands that seek to reave his life. Too true it is, Quem [297] dies vidit veniens superbum, Hunc dies vidit fugiens jacentem. But, Leicester, leave to grow so passionate. Spencer and Baldock, by no other names. I [do] arrest you of high treason here. Stand not on titles, but obey th' arrest; 'Tis in the name of Isabel the queen. My lord, why droop you thus?60
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? Come Leicester, then in Isabella's name 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!