MORTIMER JUNIOR

Mine uncle here, this Earl, & I my self, Were sworn to your father at his death, That he should never return into the realm: And know my lord, ere I will break my oath, This sword of mine that should offend your foes, Shall sleep within the scabbard at thy need, And underneath thy banners march who will, For Mortimer will hang his armour up. I cannot, nor I will not, I must speak, Cousin, our hands I hope shall fence our heads, And strike off his that makes you threaten us. Come uncle, let us leave the brainsick king, And henceforth parley with our naked swords. Well, let that peevish Frenchma ̄ guard him sure Unless his breast be sword proof he shall die. Wherefore is Guy of Warwick discontent? Why post we not from hence to levy men? Ah that bewrays their baseness Lancaster, Were all the Earls and Barons of my mind, Weel hale him from the bosom of the king, And at the court gate hang the pessant up, Who swollen with venom of ambitious pride, Will be the ruin of the realm and us. Then will you join with us that be his peers To banish or behead that Gaveston ? Madam, whither walks your majesty so fast? Madam, return unto the court again: That sly inveigling Frenchman weel exile, Or loose our lives: and yet ere that day come, The king shall loose his crown, for we have power, And courage to, to be revenged at full. Then may we lawfully revolt from him. Content: And in the mean time isle entreat you all, To cross to Lambeth, and there stay with me. Madam farewell. I, if words will serve, if not, I must. The name of Mortimer shall fright the king, Unless he be declinde from that base peasant. Their downfall is at hand, their forces down, We will not thus be facest and ouerpeerd. Thou villain, wherefore talks thou of a king, That hardly art a gentleman by birth? What we have done, our heart blood shall maintain. My lords, now let us all be resolute, And either have our wills, or loose our lives. Curse him, if he refuse, and then may we Depose him and elect and other king. Why should you love him, whom the world hates so? The king is lovesick for his minion. I know 'tis long of Gaveston she weeps. Madam, how fares your grace? Cry quittance Madam then, & love not him. But madam, would you have us call him home? What, would you have me plead for Gaveston ? Fair Queen forbear to angle for the fish, Which being caught, strikes him that takes it dead, I mean that vile Torpedo, Gaveston, That now I hope floats on the Irish seas. It is impossible, but speak your mind. Well of necessity it must be so, My Lords, that I abhor base Gaveston, I hope your honours make no question, And therefore though I plead for his repeal, 'Tis not for his sake, but for our avail: Nay for the realms behoof and for the kings. My Lord of Lancaster, mark the respect. Do you not wish that Gaveston were dead? Why then my lord, give me but leave to speak. This which I urge, is of a burning zeal, To mend the king, and do our country good: Know you not Gaveston hath store of gold, Which may in Ireland purchase him such friends, As he will front the mightiest of us all, And whereas he shall live and be beloude, 'Tis hard for us to work his overthrow. But were he here, detested as he is, How easily might some base slave be subbornd, To greet his lordship with a poniard, And none so much as blame the murderer, But rather praise him for that brave attempt, And in the Chronicle, enrowle his name, For purging of the realm of such a plague. Because my lords, it was not thought upon: Nay more, when he shall know it lies in us, To banish him, and then to call him home, 'Twill make him veil the topflag of his pride, And fear to offend the meanest noble man. Then may we with some colour rise in arms, For howsoever we have born it out, 'Tis treason to be up against the king, So shall we have the people of our side, Which for his father's sake lean to the king, But cannot brook a night grown mushrump, Such a one as my Lord of Cornwall is, Should bear us down of the nobility, And when the commons and the nobles join, 'Tis not the king can buckler Gaveston. Weel pull him from the strongest hold he hath, My lords, if to perform this I be slack, Think me as base a groom as Gaveston. In this I count me highly gratified, And Mortimer will rest at your command. My lord, isle marshal so your enemies, As England shall be quiet, and you safe. Uncle, his wanton humour grieves not me, But this I scorn, that one so basely born, Should by his sovereigns favour grow so pert, And riot it with the treasure of the realm, While soldiers mutiny for want of pay, He wears a lords reuenewe on his back, And Midas Like he jets it in the court, With base outlandish cullions at his heals, Whose proud fantastic liveries make such show, As if that Proteus God of shapes appeared, I have not seen a dapper lack so brisk, He wears a short Italian hooded cloak, Larded with pearl, and in his tuskan cap A jewel of more valve then the crown, While other walk below, the king and he From out a window, laugh at such as we, And flout our train, and jest at our attire: Uncle, 'tis this that makes me impatient. Then so am I, and live to do him service, But while I have a sword, a hand, a heart, I will not yield to any such upstarted. You know my mind, come uncle lets away. But seeing you are so desirous, thus it is: A lofty Cedar tree fair flourishing, On whose top-branches Kingly Eagles perch, And by the bark a canker creeps me up, And gets unto the highest bough of all, The motto: Aeque tandem. If in his absence thus he favors him, What will he do when as he shall be present? Welcome is the good Earl of Cornwall Villain thy life, unless I miss mine aim. I'll not be bard the court for Gaveston. Moved may he be, and perish in his wrath. By heaven, the abject villain shall not live. Letters, from whence? My uncles taken prisoner by the Scots. About it then, and we will follow you. Cousin, and if he will not ransom him, I'll thunder such a peal into his ears, As never subject did unto his King. Whither else but to the King. May we not. My lord, the family of the Mortimers Are not so poor, but would they fell their land, Would levy men enough to anger you, We never beg, but use such prayers as these. Nay, now you are here alone, isle speak my mind. The haughty Dane commands the narrow seas, While in the harbour ride thy ships vnrigd. Stay Edmund, never was Plantagenet False of his word, and therefore trust we thee. I'll give the onset. This tottered ensign of my ancestors, Which swept the desert shore of that dead sea, Whereof we God the name of Mortimer, Will I advance upon this castle walls, Drums strike alarm, raise them from their sport, And ring aloud the knell of Gaveston. Whose this, the Queen? Cease to lament, and tell us where the king? Shalt thou appoint what we shall grant? Soldiers away with him: Thus weel gratify the king, Weel send his head by thee, let him bestow His tears on that, for that is all he gets Of Gaveston, or else his senseless trunk. It is honourable in thee to offer this, But for we know thou art a noble gentleman, We will not wrong thee so, To make away a true man for a thief. How say you my lord of Warwick. My lord of Pembroke, we deliver him you, Return him on your honour, found away. Exeunt. No Edward, no, thy flatterers faint and fly. Then Edward, thou wilt fight it to the last, And rather bath thy sword in subjects blood, Then banish that pernicious company. England, unkind to thy nobility, Groan for this grief, behold how thou art maimed. What Mortimer? can ragged stony wall ure thy virtue that aspires to heaven, Edward, England's scourge, it may not be, Mortimers hope surmounts his fortune far. Holla, who walks there, is't you my lord? It hath my lord, the warders all a sleep, I thank them, gave me leave to pass in peace: But hath your grace God shipping unto France? Lady, the last was truest of the twain, But Mortimer reserude for better hap, Hath shaken off the thraldom of the tower, And lives advance your standard good my lord. Mounsier le Grand, a noble friend of yours, Told us at our arrival all the news, How hard the nobles, how unkind the king Hath showed himself: but madam, right makes room, Where weapons want, and though a many friends Are made away, as Warwick, Lancaster, And others of our party and faction, Yet have we friends, assure your grace in England, Would cast up caps, and clap their hands for joy, To see us there appointed for our foes. This noble gentleman forward in arms, Was born I see to be our anchor hold, Sir John of Henolt, be it thy renown, That England's Queen, and nobles in distress, Have been by thee restored and comforted. Nay madam, if you be a warriar, You must not grow so passionate in speeches: Lords, sith that we are by sufferance of heaven, Arriude and armed in this princes right, Here for our countries cause swear we to him All homage, fealty and forwardness, And for the open wrongs and injuries Edward hath done to us, his Queen and land, We come in arms to wreck it with the swords: That England's queen in peace may reposesse Her dignities and honours, and withal We may remove these flatterers from the king, That havocs England's wealth and treasury. Your loving care in this, Deserves princely favors and rewards, But where the king and the other Spencer fled? Fair Isabel, now have we our desire, The proud corrupters of the light-brainde king, Have done their homage to the lostie gallows, And he himself lies in captivity, Be ruled by me, and we will rule the realm, In any case, take heed of childish fear, For now we hold and old Wolf by the ears, That if he flip will seize upon us both, And gripe the sorer being gripped himself, Think therefore madam that imports as much, To erect your son withal the speed we may, And that I be protector over him, For our behoof will bear the greater sway When as a kings name shall be under writ. Letters, from whence? Let me alone, here is the privy seal, Whose there, call hither Gurney and Matreuis, To dash the heavy headed Edmunds drift, Bartley shall be discharged, the king remooude, And none but we shall know where he lies. So now away, post thither wards amain. Finely dissembled, do so still sweet Queen, Here comes the young prince, with the Earl of Kenned. How fares my honourable lord of Kenned? What traitor have we there with blades and bills? My lord, he is your enemy, and shall die. As for my self, I stand as Jove's huge tree, And others are but shrubs compared to me, All tremble at my name, and I fear none, Lets see who dare impeach me for his death? What if he have? the king is yet a child. Because I think scorn to be accused, Who is the man dare say I murdered him? Some whirl wind fetch them back, or sink them all: They shall be started thence I doubt it not. First would I hear news that he were deposed, And then let me alone to handle him. Speak, shall he presently be dispatched and die? Gurney. As thou intendest to rise by Mortimer, Who now makes Fortune's wheel turn as he please, Seek all the means thou canst to make him droop, And neither give him kind word, nor good look. And this above the rest, because we hear That Edmund casts to work his liberty, Remove him still from place to place by night, And at the last, he come to Killingworth, And then from thence to Bartley back again: And by the way to make him fret the more, Speak curstly to him, and in any case Let no man comfort him, if he chance to weep, But amplify his grief with bitter words. If he have such access unto the prince, Our plots and stratagems will soon be dashed. Inconstant Edmund, dost thou favour him, That wast a cause of his imprisonment? I tell thee 'tis not meet, that one so false Should come about the person of a prince, My lord, he hath betrayed the king his brother, And therefore trust him not. Why youngling, sodainst thou so of Mortimer ? Then I will carry thee by force away. The king must die, or Mortimer goes down, The commons now begin to pity him, Yet he that is the cause of Edwards death, Is sure to pay for it when his son is of age, And therefore will I do it cunningly, This letter written by a friend of ours, Contains his death, yet bids them save his life. Edwardum occidere nolite timere bonum est. Fear not to kill the king 'tis good he die. But read it thus, and thats and other sense: Edwardum occidere nolite timere bonum est. Kill not the king 'tis good to fear the worst. Unpointed as it is, thus shall it go, That being dead, if it chance to be found, Matreuis and the rest may bear the blame, And we be quit that caused it to be done: Within this room is locked the messenger, That shall convey it, and perform the rest, And by a secret token that he bears, Shall he be murdered when the deed is done. Lightborn, come forth, art thou as resolute as thou wast? And hast thou cast how to accomplish it? Well, do it bravely, and be secret. Whats that? I care not how it is, so it be not spied, Deliver this to Gurney and Matrenis, At every ten miles end thou hast a horse. Take this, away, and never see me more. No, unless thou bring me news of Ed wards death. None comes, found trumpets. Strike off his head, he shall have marshal law. 'Tis for your highness good, and for the realms, How often shall I bid you bear him hence? At our command, once more away with him. Matreuis, if thou now growest penitent I'll be thy ghostly father, therefore choose, Whither thou wilt be secret in this, Or else die by the hand of Mortimer. Fly to the Savages. How now my lord? But hath your grace no other proof then this? 'Tis my hand, what gather you by this. What murderer? bring forth the man I sent. Madam, entreat not, I will rather die, Then sue for life unto a paltry boy. Base fortune, now I see, that in thy wheel There is a point, to which when men aspire, They tumble headlong down, that point I touchte, And seeing there was no place to mount up higher, Why should I grieve at my declining fallen, Farewell fair Queen, weep not for Mortimer, That scorns the world, and as a traveller, Goes to discover countries yet unknown. A homely one my lord, not worth the telling. No more then I would answer were he slain. They rate his ransom at five thousand pound, Who should defray the money, but the King, Seeing he is taken prisoner in his wars? I'll to the King. Nay, stay my lord, I come to bring you news, Mine uncles taken prisoner by the Scots. The idle triumphs, masks, lascivious shows And prodigal gifts bestowed on Gaveston, Have drawn thy treasure dry, and made thee weak, The murmuring commons overstretched hath. Who loves thee? but a sort of flatterers. Thy court is naked, being bereft of those, That makes a king seem glorious to the world, I mean the peers, whom thou shouldst dearly love: Libels are cast again thee in the street, Ballads and rhymes, made of thy overthrow. When Wertenberg thou in the field with banner spread? But once, and then thy soldiers marched Like players, With garish robes, not armour, and thy self Bedaubd with gold, road laughing at the rest, Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest, Where women's favors hung Like labels down. Wigmore shall fly, to set my uncle free. How comes it, that the king and he is parted? Here in the river rides a Flemish hoy, Lets all aboard, and follow him amain. Madam, stay you within this castle here. Nay, rather sail with us to Scarborough. Madam, I cannot stay to answer you, But think of Mortimer as he deserves. Thou proud disturber of thy countries peace, Corrupter of thy king, cause of these broils, Base flatterer, yield, and were it not for shame, Shame and dishonour to a soldiers name, Upon my weapons point here shouldst thou fallen, And welter in thy gore. Away base groom, robber of kings renown, Question with thy companions and thy mates. Look Lancaster, yonder is Edward among his flatterers. My lord of Kenned, what needs these questions? 'Tis not in her controlment, nor in ours, But as the realm and parliament shall please, So shall your brother be disposed of, I Like not this relenting mood in Edmund, Madam, 'tis good to look to him betimes. Yea madam, and they escape not easily, That fled the field. The prince I rule, the queen do I command, And with a lowly congé to the ground, The proudest lords salute me as I pass, I seal, I cancel, I do what I will, Feared am I more then loved, let me be feared, And when I frown, make all the court look pale, I view the prince with Aristorchus eyes, Whose looks were as a breeching to a boy, They thrust upon me the Protectorship, And sue to me for that that I desire, While at the council table, graven enough, And not unlike a bashful paretaine, First I complain of imbecility, Saying it is, onus quam gravissimum, Till being interrupted by my friends, Suscepi that provinciam as they term it, And to conclude, I am Protector now, Now is all sure, the Queen and Mortimer Shall rule the realm, the king, and none rule us, Mine enemies will I plague, my friends advance, And what I list command, who dare control, Mayor sum quam cui possit fortuna nocere, And that this be the coronation day, It pleases me, and Isabel the Queen, The trumpets found, I must go take my place. But by the sword, my lord, it must be deserved. The king will never forsake his flatterers. Madam, have done with care & sad complain, Your king hath wronged your country and himself, And we must seek to right it as we may, Mean while, have hence this rebel to the block, Your lordship cannot privilege your head. Take him away, he prates, you Rice ap howell, Shall do good service to her Majesty, Being of countenance in your country here, To follow these rebellious runagates, We in mean while madam, must take advise, How Baldock, Spencer, and their accomplices, May in their fallen be followed to their end. Enough Matreuis, write a letter pre sently Unto the Lord of Bartley from our self, That he resign the king to thee and Gurney, And when 'tis done, we will subscribe our name. And mine. Thou being his uncle, and the next of blood, Do look to be protector over the prince. But at his looks Lightborne thou wilt relent. Is't done, Matreuis, and the murderer dead? False Gurney hath betrayed me and him self. Nothing but Gaveston, what means your grace? You have matters of more weight to think upon, The King of France sets foot in Normandy. I marry, such a guard as this doth well. Did you attempt his rescue, Edmund speak? And you shall ransom him, or else. I'll see him presently dispatched away.