KENT

Barons & Earls, your pride hath made me mute, But now isle speak, and to the proof I hope: I do remember in my father's days, Lord Percy of the North being highly moved, Braved Mowberie in presence of the king, For which, had not his highness loved him well, He should have lost his head, but with his look, The undaunted spirit of Percy was appeased, And Mowberie and he were reconciled: Yet dare you brave the king unto his face, Brother revenge it, and let these their heads, Preach upon poles for trespass of their tongues. Warwick, these words do ill beseem thy years. What Mortimer, you will not threaten him? Mine honour shall be hostage of my truth, If that will not suffice, farewell my lords. Brother, in regard of thee and of thy land, Did they remove that flatterer from thy throne. Fair blows the wind for France, blow gentle gale, Till Edmund be arriude for England's good, Nature, yield to my countries cause in this, A brother, no, a butcher of thy friends, Proud Edward, dost thou banish me thy presence? But isle to France, and cheer the wronged Queen, And certify what Edwards looseness is, Unnatural king, to slaughter noble men And cherish flatterers: Mortimer I stay Thy sweet escape, stand gracious gloomy night to his device. Mortimer 'tis I, but hath thy potion wrought so happily? Fear it not. Exeunt. Madam, long may you live, Much happier then your friends in England do. Would all were well, and Edward well reclaimed, For England's honour, peace, and quietness. Sir John of Henolt, pardon us I pray, These comforts that you give our woeful queen, Bind us in kindness all at your command. I would he never had been flattered more. This way he fled, but I am come too late, 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, Born arms against thy brother and thy king? Reign showers of vengeance on my cursed head Thou God, to whom in justice it belongs, To punish this unnatural revolt: Edward, this Mortimer aims at thy life: Oh fly him then, but Edmund calm this rage, 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, Bristol to Longshankes blood Is false, be not found single for suspect: Proud Mortimer pries near into thy walks. Madam, without offence if I may ask, How will you deal with Edward in his fallen? Nephew, your father, I dare not call him king. This Edward is the ruin of the realm. I hear of late he hath deposed himself. Not I my lord: who should protect the son, But she that gave him life, I mean the Queen? The more cause have I now to make amends. Sister, Edward is my charge, redeem him. Soldiers, let me but talk to him one word. Where is the court but here, here is the king, And I will visit him, why stay you me? Oh miserable is that commonweal, where lords Keep courts, and kings are locked in prison! I, load me whither you will, even to my death, Seeing that my brother cannot be released. Mortimer, I did, he is our king, And thou compelst this prince to wear the crown. Strike of my head, base traitor I defy thee. Art thou king, must I die at thy command? Let me but stay and speak, I will not go, Either my brother or his son is king, And none of both, then thirst for Edmunds blood, And therefore soldiers whither will you hale me? Brother, the least of these may well suffice For one of greater birth then Gaveston. Ah brother, lay not violent hands on him, For heel complain unto the sea of Room. Is this the duty that you owe your king? My lord, I see your love to Gaveston, Will be the ruin of the realm and you, For now the wrathful nobles threaten wars, And therefore brother banish him for ever. I, and it grieves me that I favoured him. So will I, rather then with Gaveston. No marvel though thou scorn thy noble peers, When I thy brother am rejected thus. Exit. My lords, of love to this our native land, I come to join with you, and leave the king, And in your quarrel and the realms behoof, Will be the first that shall adventure life. I have enformd the Earl of Lancaster. Mortimer shall know that he hath wronged me. Hence will I haste to Killingworth castle, And rescue aged Edward from his foes, To be revenged on Mortimer and thee. Lay down your weapons, traitors yield the king. Base villains, wherefore do you gripe me thus? In health sweet Mortimer, how fares your grace. Ah they do dissemble. I would these words proceeded from your heart. Unhappies Edward, chaste from England's bounds. I do sweet Nephew. Stay villains.