Trus. And thus most humbly do we take our leave. [Exeunt Bishop and Trussel.
Edw. Farewell; I know the next news that they bring Will be my death; and welcome shall it be; To wretched men, death is felicity.
Enter Berkeley, who gives a paper to Leicester.
Leices. Another post! what news brings he?
Edw. Such news as I expect—come, Berkeley, come, And tell thy message to my naked breast.130
Berk. My lord, think not a thought so villainous Can harbour in a man of noble birth. To do your highness service and devoir, And save you from your foes, Berkeley would die.
Leices. My lord, the council of [310] the queen commands That I resign my charge.
Edw. And who must keep me now? Must you, my lord?
Berk. I, my most gracious lord—so 'tis decreed.
Edw. [taking the paper.] By Mortimer, whose name is written here! Well may I rent his name that rends my heart! [Tears it.140 This poor revenge has something eased my mind. So may his limbs be torn, as is this paper! Hear me, immortal Jove, and grant it too!