King Edward the Third, with the fall of Mortimer Earl of March An Historicall Play |
 | 1. | ACT I. |
| 1. |
 | 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
 | King Edward the Third, with the fall of Mortimer Earl of March |  |
ACT I.
SCENE I. Nottingham.
The Court of King Edward.Enter Lord Mountacute, Sir Tho. Delamore, and Sir Robert Holland.
Lord Mount.
It much disturbs me Delamore, that thou
Of all Mankind should'st think my temper frail;
What hast thou ever seen in Montacute,
Or read i'th' Annals of his Ancestors,
To fear him or suspect his Resolution?
Proclaim me Bastard if my bloud proves base,
I tell thee good old Friend;
I'le banish sleep and Pleasure till I've found
A means to set my bleeding Country free;
And in the fury of this Noble heat,
Plunge through a Sea of blood for her deliverance.
Sr. T. Dela.
I Question not your Spirit, But—
L. Mont.
What?
Sr. T. Dela.
Pray give me leave:
Nay, I must chide you, for you give the Reins
To such a Passion may undo us all;
Are there not sharp observers plac't about us,
Who if 'twere possible would search our Souls?
This eager Fire will quite forestall our purpose.
L. Mount.
Well! I am husht.
But pray propose some means may please my thoughts,
Since you'l confine my tongue.
2
Nay, I'me for urging of our wrongs, but calmly,
There is a time
When Heav'n will do us Right for all our Woes,
And if the Orphans crys or Widdows tears,
The Bloud of Innocents which stains the Land,
Can hasten Vengeance, sure 'tis drawing nigh.
L. Mount.
'Tis full three years since Mortimer began
To Lord it o're us by the Queens vile favour;
He stalks as on a Mountain by himself,
Whilst we creep humbly in the Vale below,
And Eye, and Curse, what we're afraid to reach at.
Sr. Rob. Holl.
In this short space, he and his Brother-Devil
Have made, undone, new fram'd, shuffled and tost
The Antient Customes of our Native Soyl
So very often, that the Kingdom staggers
Under the heavy Burthen of her change.
L. Mount.
What are our Princes? what the Nobles now?
Are they not Vassals to this upstart's State?
No more the same of our Nobility
Be call'd in mind, who when Usurping Powers
Did but attempt to Innovate, our Laws
With their keen Swords like Guardian Angells stood
And kept the Harpy's from the Sacred Fruit.
Sr. Rob. Holl.
Is it not fatall to resist his Will?
Nay none must smile if Mortimer be sullen;
Curse on his Pride: why should we brook it longer?
Why don't we boldly tell the King our thoughts,
And make him Great in spight of evill Counsell?
Sr. Tho. Dela.
There will be Mortimer in every State;
Some Favourite Villain to oppress the Subject,
Which sell to Knaves what honest Men should have,
Who loose their Right only for being poor;
The largest bribe is still his dearest Friend,
And values not the Credit of his Prince,
Therefore 'tis just
The King should know how much he is Ecclips't,
Who 'tis that grasps the Scepter in his stead,
And how his Mother lavishly doth waste
The best of his Revenue on this March.
L. Mount.
It rests not there, she Prostitutes her self,
Pardon me, for I will not giv't no better name;
3
One Pallace holds 'em both, one Table feeds 'em,
Nay, I will speak it, Sir, one Bed contains 'em:
The Brawny Minion's dieted on purpose
To do the Drudgery of Royal Lewdness.
Sr. Rob. Holl.
How are we manag'd by a pair of Knaves:
March rides the Priviledge of all the Peers;
For who in Parliament speaks not his thoughts
Must never have a good look from the Court:
Whilst Hereford the Reverend Chancellour,
Persuades the Queen she may dispence with Laws,
And renders 'em according to her purpose.
Sr. Tho. Del.
If as sometimes he meets a knotty point
Which will not stretch to what his need requires,
He Summons the most Learned of the Robe,
Begging their kind Interpretation of it,
Telling how necessary, nay how Loyal 'tis
When the Prerogative o'th' Crown is pinch'd
Within the Clutches of the Griping Law
To ease the Royal Power, and give it freedom:
If they Comply not, then his Greatness Culls
From out the Scum o'th' Inns of Chancery,
A Set of Poor necessitated Rogues,
Who've Run through all the Judgments of each Court:
And these he makes his Learned Expositors,
These as they steadily perform their task,
He puts into their Places who refus'd him:
Some have the fortune to ascend the Bench,
But then they're such Profficients in their Art
They'd baffle truth tho' never so well back'd,
And dare the Devill in his own Profession.
Sr. Rob. Ho.
Justice and Honesty have left the Robe,
For since the Prelate Hereford is chosen,
(Under pretence that Piety best suits
To adorn the Person of a Chancellour)
Because on Conscience Equity depends:
The Antient Practicers refuse to Plead
Balkt with his over-ruling Clamorous tongue;
They tell you with a heavy heart and look,
That after many years of constant Practice
They must to School again and learn the Law.
4
Come, come, it never was a prosperous World,
Since Priests were Judges made of Temporal matters:
Why should we wonder People grow Prophane,
When Mitred-Heads lead 'em the way to Hell;
The Customes of their Ancestors they slight,
Have chang'd their Shirts of hair for Robes of Gold:
Thus Luxury and Interest Rules the Church,
Whilst Piety and Conscience dwells in Caves.
Let's stem the Current of this furious tide,
Our Country is the Parent of us all;
And shall we talk away the precious hours
Whilst these vile hangmen stretch her on the Rack?
Let's force young Edwards safety by our Swords,
And cut off all the holds which bar his Glory.
Sr. Tho. Del.
Blessings upon thee for this generous heat,
From hence my fears and Jealousies, be gone;
Thou art the Soul of Honour new reviv'd,
Which for some years, as once the Romans did,
Withdrew thy self into a willing Exile
Action, there will be fuell for thy Fire,
Great as thy Spirit Courts and worthy of thee,
The matters ready and the Engines fixt,
Many prepar'd and eager for the work,
But Place and time forbid the telling more:
The Darling Comes.
Enter Guards, Gentlemen, Turrington, and Nevill; followed by the Earl of March.
Waiters.
Make way there—
Guards.
Room for his Lordship:
L. Mount.
See how the Toad swells with his own applause:
Sr. Tho. Del.
My Lord you do forget.
L. Mount.
I'me silent:
Mortim.
Turrington:
Turring.
Your pleasure:
[Petitioners kneeling with Papers.
Mort.
What are those Men which bend their knees to us?
They seem as Supplyants.
Turring.
So they are indeed from several Towns,
Cities and Burroughs they are come,
Humbly Imploring you would Intercede
5
Mortim.
That is the Chancellours business.
Turr.
They know your Interest greater and entreat it;
The Judges have annul'd 'em; and unless
Your Goodness can prevail, many a Town
By their own faults Incurr'd will fall to ruine,
And be a Wilderness; Thousand of Families
Now in the way of Life must starve and Perish.
Mortim.
Their Antient Charters by the Law are forfeited,
But I will Study how to get 'em new ones:
Our time is spent in telling things aright,
This Kingdom wants it, and I am its Friend.
L. Mount.
Was ever Pride or Arrogance like this?
Mortim.
Nevill, what would those People have?
Nevill.
May it please your Honour,
They are Inhabitants of the adjacent Corporations
They all of 'em have voices at Elections,
And promise for the Parliaments to come,
They will choose none but what the Court shall like.
Mortim.
'Tis well, and we take notice of their Wisdom,
See that you give 'em welcome as becomes us;
Such Subjects must not want Encouragement,
And March be Living.
L. Mount.
Unheard of Impudence.
Dela.
My Lord, we are observ'd, see how he eyes us;
Nor are we safe whilst we stand trifling here.
L. Mount.
Why let him eye us till his balls grow stiff.
His looks may fright those have dependance on him,
I slight the worst and best of 'em:
Mortim.
Ha! what said he?
Turr.
Sir;
Mort.
Lead on.
As he moves is met by Montacute who fronts him, they stare at each other, and jostle.
Ha, Jostled!
Mount.
I finde the man is greater then the Room;
Sure else he might have strutted clear of me.
Mort.
Thou art a froward Peer:
Mount.
Thou art a vain one; Nay, frown not March.
6
Look big upon those bastard English-Men
Who tamely yield their Rights and Charters up,
And swear to pick a Parliament
Shall fell our Freedoms, Persons and Estates,
To gain a short-liv'd smile—
They probably may dread thee.
Mort.
Rash youth, no more, lest thou provoke my anger,
Till I forget the Pallace that Protects thee;
But th'Eagle seldome condescends, I think,
To Combat with the Passion of a Wren.
L. Mount.
I tell thee Boaster, that my veins do hold
A Nobler, Richer, Purer blood then thine.
Mortim.
Thy word's are air which no Impression make,
So boys hurl stones in Water and so lost:
L. Mount.
So Men shun Provocations under Proverbs:
Mort.
Shun thee, poor Wretch, I pitty thee:
L. Mount.
I scorn thy pitty, and contemn thy hate.
Dela.
Nay Mountacute.
L. Mount.
Rot his proud Spirit—oh that I had thee forth
On some wide Plain to Hunt thy haughty Soul,
Distant from all Protection but thy Swords,
There thou shouldst finde—
Mort.
A Pratler;
Thy Mother's folly dwells upon thy tongue,
Thou cam'st from School too early,
Fye Boy, fye:
L. Mount.
Statesman, Statesman, thou Engineer of hell:
Mort.
Rail on, and spend thy Gall, malitious thing,
Whose Nurses Milk still hangs upon thy Lips,
You should be scourg'd to manners.
L. Mount.
The King shall know thee,
Mort.
Then he'le know himself:
L. Mount.
Arrogance, I shall meet thee;
Mort.
Beware the Thunder Child, 'tis dangerous.
Mount.
If thou art so, like Lightning, I'le fore-run thee,
And if thy self thou dar'st a Thunder Prove,
Follow me Mortimer and I'le think thee Jove.
Exeunt Mount. Dela. and Holland.
7
Had you not Patience as you have the Power
Of an offended Deity, this language sure had been his last;
I watch'd, my Lord, your eyes,
And ready for the Signall of dispatch,
Had laid his Reaking heart beneath your feet.
Nevill.
You are too mercifull, too full of goodness,
Such high Indignities call for Resentments
No less then Death; Pardon my plainness Sir,
For here I Prophecy, unless you break
This Serpents Egg before the Monster's hatch'd,
'Twill bring Destruction on your self and friends.
Mort.
I thank ye, and am happy in your service;
The Babler I despise, he shall be punish'd,
The Envy that his Canker'd breast is big with,
By Preying on its self shall work his Ruine;
So Doggs behold the Lustre of the Moon,
And so run yelping backward into madness.
Nevill.
The Queen:
Mort.
Retire, meet me anon, and we'le consult what's best.
Enter Queen Isabella. All retire but Mortimer.
My Lovely Queen, my charming Isabella,
The Empress of my Soul, and balm of Life,
Ten thousand Cupids play within those Circles,
And dart the Rays of Love so quick and fast,
That all my Spirits leap to meet thy Glories.
Queen.
I find my Soul so near resemble thine,
That when you speak it hasts to catch thy words;
So when some Curious Artist strikes the Lute,
The Harmony excites the Astonish'd Sense,
And to the Face conveys the suddain Transport.
When thou dost offer up this Sacrifice;
Like Cynthia to her Lov'd Endymion,
I must descend and thus Caress my Charmer.
Mort.
To you alone I own my Second being,
And can I pay my life to other use
Then the adoring of my saving Goddess?
Well I remember when Carnarven, Edward,
By Spencers Art lodg'd me within the Tower,
Where every minute boaded still my last,
8
Contriv'd the means to save thy Vassal's Life:
A sleepy mixture artfully convey'd
Into the Wine, the greedy Warders Drank
While by a Friend that thou hadst made with Gold
I past the Guards and fled the hated Place.
Queen.
Could I do less then that for him I lov'd,
He who in Steel had fought my Battles o're
'Gainst the false Spencers, and worse Gavestone;
He who all danger in my Cause defy'd,
Was my best Friend against a Hoast of Foes:
Oh Mortimer how happy had I been
If 'stead of Edward thou hadst been my Lord,
Then Innocent and Pure as Vestall flames
I had come unspotted to thy wishing Arms,
And left no stain upon my Memory.
Mort.
Beauty like yours was ever absolute,
Crowns should not Awe, nor should the Throne Command,
But he that's bravest best deserves the blessing;
Was Edward fit to reap such joys as these?
Ungratefull Edward who receiv'd a Prize,
Heaven could not match in all its wondrous store,
And for return instead of Prayers and Incense
Slighted the Giver and the glorious Present:
A Minion Spencer must supply the Place,
A Ganemede, a Hylas, senseless Prince,
The Gods Reprisall gave for the Contempt,
And for reward of all my Cares and Toyls
Decreed this slighted Beauty should be mine.
Queen.
You Men are skillfull in the Trade of Love,
You sound our Souls and Catch our Weaknesses,
Apting your words still to the Theam we're fond of,
And we believe 'em to our own undoing.
Mort.
Whilst thus I press, I feel a kindly heat
Glow in my heart, urging to eager Bliss:
Sweets let me sip from these Immortal Springs;
Youth we'le renew, and humane nature change,
Making the Extacy a Paradice.
Queen.
Mayst thou for ever feel this Pleasing Fire,
May fears ne're cool it, time or Age decay it,
Desire for ever wait upon our Joys,
9
Mort.
What Brainsick Priests do in their Raptures tell
Of the Elizium endless happiness
Falls short of what each minute I enjoy;
But oh my Care, our Paths of Love are strew'd
With Briers which Thwart and Cross us in our Pleasures:
Young Mountacute with Delamore and Holland,
Those subtle Bellous which keep in his fire,
And raise and calm it as their Work requires
Must be remov'd, Their Interest is great,
Their Prudence strict, Mountacutes Courage firm,
Their Fortunes able to maintain their measures,
Which strikes for thy Sons Greatness and our Ruine.
Queen.
The Boy is Plyable to all my wishes,
'Tis a half Soul bred in the Lag of Love,
And Spiritless as the Desire which got him;
We'l think of them at Leisure.
Mort.
No more then now.
Let us Retire to our Delights, unutterable Joys,
Oh! why should Death for ever part such Lovers
Fate; when your pleasure comes that we must fall,
Let us together mount the Etheriall Region:
But oh I fear my Soul's too poor for thine,
Qeens have peculiar stations sure above;
I tost and shatter'd must remain below,
Ever Imploring for my heav'n in view.
Queen.
No, if the Powers despise my Mortimer,
Their Care of me alone's not worth my Thanks.
Single a Paradice I could not bear,
Heav'n would be Hell were Mortimer not there.
Exeunt.
The End of the First Act.
| King Edward the Third, with the fall of Mortimer Earl of March | |