ACT THE FIFTH.
SCENE I.
Enter [301] the King, Leicester, the Bishop of Winchester, and Trussel.
Leices. Be patient, good my lord, cease to lament, Imagine Killingworth Castle were your court, And that you lay for pleasure here a space, Not of compulsion or necessity.
Edw. Leicester, if gentle words might comfort me, Thy speeches long ago had eased my sorrows; For kind and loving hast thou always been. The griefs of private men are soon allayed, But not of kings. The forest deer, being struck, Runs to an herb [302] that closeth up the wounds;10 But, when the imperial lion's flesh is gored, He rends and tears it with his wrathful paw, [And] highly scorning that the lowly earth Should drink his blood, mounts up to the air. And so it fares with me, whose dauntless mind The ambitious Mortimer would seek to curb, And that unnatural queen, false Isabel, That thus hath pent and mewed me in a prison; For such outrageous passions cloy my soul, As with the wings of rancour and disdain,20 Full oft[en] am I soaring up to heaven, To plain me to the gods against them both. But when I call to mind I am a king, Methinks I should revenge me of my wrongs, That Mortimer and Isabel have done. But what are kings, when regiment [303] is gone, But perfect shadows in a sunshine day? My nobles rule, I bear the name of king; I wear the crown, but am controlled by them, By Mortimer, and my unconstant queen,30 Who spots my nuptial bed with infamy; Whilst I am lodged within this cave of care, Where sorrow at my elbow still attends, To company my heart with sad laments, That bleeds within me for this strange exchange. But tell me, must I now resign my crown, To make usurping Mortimer a king?
Winch. Your grace mistakes, it is for England's good, And princely Edward's right we crave the crown.
Edw. No, 'tis for Mortimer, not Edward's head;40 For he's a lamb, encompassèd by wolves, Which in a moment will abridge his life. But if proud Mortimer do wear this crown, Heaven turn it to a blaze of quenchless fire! [304] Or like the snaky wreath of Tisiphon, Engirt the temples of his hateful head; So shall not England's vine [305] be perished, But Edward's name survives, [306] though Edward dies.
Leices. My lord, why waste you thus the time away? They stay your answer; will you yield your crown?50
Edw. Ah, Leicester, weigh how hardly I can brook To lose my crown and kingdom without cause; To give ambitious Mortimer my right, That like a mountain overwhelms my bliss, In which extreme my mind here murdered is. But what the heavens appoint, I must obey! Here, take my crown; the life of Edward too; [Taking off the crown. Two kings in England cannot reign at once. But stay awhile, let me be [307] king till night, That I may gaze upon this glittering crown;60 So shall my eyes receive their last content, My head, the latest honour due to it, And jointly both yield up their wishèd right. Continue ever thou celestial sun; Let never silent night possess this clime: Stand still you watches of the element; All times and seasons, rest you at a stay, That Edward may be still fair England's king! But day's bright beam doth vanish fast away, And needs I must resign my wishèd crown.70 Inhuman creatures! nursed with tiger's milk! Why gape you for your sovereign's overthrow! My diadem I mean, and guiltless life. See, monsters, see, I'll wear my crown again! [He puts on the crown. What, fear you not the fury of your king? But, hapless Edward, thou art fondly led, They pass not for thy frowns as late they did, But seek to make a new-elected king! Which fills my mind with strange despairing thoughts, Which thoughts are martyrèd with endless torments,80 And in this torment comfort find I none, But that I feel the crown upon my head, And therefore let me wear it yet awhile.