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_ ACT IV - SCENE V
Scene V. Near Bristol.
[Enter KING EDWARD, BALDOCK, and the younger SPENSER.]
Y. Spen.
Fly, fly, my lord! the queen is overstrong;
Her friends do multiply, and yours do fail.
Shape we our course to Ireland, there to breathe.
K. Edw.
What, was I born to fly and run away,
And leave the Mortimers conquerors behind?
Give me my horse, and let's reinforce our troops.
And in this bed of honour die with fame.
Bald.
O, no, my lord! this princely resolution
Fits not the time: away! we are pursu'd.
[ Exeunt.]
[Enter KENT, with a sword and target.]
Kent.
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?
Vile wretch, and why hast thou, of all unkind,
Borne arms against thy brother and thy king?
Rain 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:
O, 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! Bristow to Longshanks' blood
Is false; be not found single for suspect:
Proud Mortimer pries near into thy walks.
[Enter QUEEN ISABELLA, PRINCE EDWARD, the younger
MORTIMER, _and_ SIR JOHN JOHN OF HAINAULT.]
Q. Isab.
Successful battle gives the God of kings
To them that fight in right, and fear in wrath,
Since, then, successfully we have prevail'd,
Thanked be heaven's great architect, and you!
Ere farther we proceed, my noble lords,
We here create our well-beloved son,
Of love and care unto his royal person,
Lord Warden of the realm; and, sith the Fates
Have made his father so infortunate,
Deal you, my lords, in this, my loving lords,
As to your wisdoms fittest seems in all.
Kent.
Madam, without offence if I may ask
How will you deal with Edward in his fall?
P. Edw.
Tell me, good uncle, what Edward do you mean?
Kent.
Nephew, your father; I dare not call him king.
Y. Mor.
My Lord of Kent, 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.
[ Aside to the Queen.]
Q. Isab.
My lord, the Mayor of Bristow knows our mind.
Y. Mor.
Yea, madam; and they scape not easily
That fled the field.
Q. Isab.
Baldock is with the king:
A goodly chancellor, is he not, my lord?
Sir J.
So are the Spensers, the father and the son.
Y. Mor.
This Edward is the ruin of the realm.
[Enter RICE AP HOWEL with the elder_ SPENSER _prisoner, and Attendants.]
Rice.
God save Queen Isabel and her princely son!
Madam, the Mayor and citizens of Bristow,
In sign of love and duty to this presence,
Present by me this traitor to the state,
Spenser, the father to that wanton Spenser,
That, like the lawless Catiline of Rome,
Revell'd in England's wealth and treasury.
Isab.
We thank you all.
Y. Mor.
Your loving care in this
Deserveth princely favours and rewards.
But where's the king and the other Spenser fled?
Rice.
Spenser the son, created Earl of Glocester,
Is with that smooth-tongu'd scholar Baldock gone,
And shipp'd but late for Ireland with the king.
Y. Mor.
Some whirlwind fetch them back, or sink them all!--
[ Aside.]
They shall be started thence, I doubt it not.
P. Edw.
Shall I not see the king my father yet?
Kent.
Unhappy Edward, chas'd from England's bounds!
[ Aside.]
Sir J.
Madam, what resteth? why stand you in a muse?
Q. Isab.
I rue my lord's ill-fortune: but, alas,
Care of my country call'd me to this war!
Y. Mor.
Madam, have done with care and sad complaint:
Your king hath wrong'd your country and himself,
And we must seek to right it as we may.--
Meanwhile have hence this rebel to the block.
E. Spen.
Rebel is he that fights against the prince:
So fought not they that fought in Edward's right.
Y. Mor.
Take him away; he prates.
[ Exeunt Attendants with the elder Spenser.]
You, Rice ap Howel,
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 advice.
How Baldock, Spenser, and their complices,
May in their fall be follow'd to their end.
[Exeunt.] _
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