[♦] Will see his burial better than his life. [Exeunt Gaolers, bearing out the body of Mortimer.
[♦] Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer,
[♦] Choked with ambition of the meaner sort:
And for those wrongs, those bitter injuries,
125 Which Somerset hath offer’d to my house,
[♦] I doubt not but with honour to redress;
And therefore haste I to the parliament,
Either to be restored to my blood,
[♦] Or make my ill the advantage of my good. [Exit.