University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

The Scene Opens and Discovers King Edward on a Couch, after some struggling Rises.
King.
Where have I been, or what is't I have seen?
'Tis said the Soul while the Tyred body sleeps,
Her Mansion often leaves and Roves abroad,
Sometimes to Groves and Solitary Cells,
Sometimes to Courts, to Cities, and to Camps;
Mingling with Crouds, then strangely left alone:
But mine has fall'n down dreadfull Precipices,
Walkt in the Charnell-Houses of the dead:
My Fathers Ghost stalk'd thus before my eyes,
Cryed out Revenge, then shreik'd and disappear'd,
With so much hast, as if it seem'd to dread
The hand of Murder did pursue it still;
Yet, as it fled it forc't the yielding Air,
To Eccho back, beware of Mortimer,

Enter a Messenger.
Mes.
Lord Mountacute, Sir Robert Holland, with Sir Thomas Delamore,
Wait for admittance to your Majesty.

King.
They're wellcome, bring 'em in;
[Exit Messenger.
Then headless Kent my once beloved Uncle,
Led on a Train of miserable Shades,
Who seem'd bewailing their untimely deaths.
With uplift hands they begg'd as for releif,
And in sad postures told their several Fates:
Then Mortimer Led in my wicked Mother,
Who Snatch'd the Crown from me and gave it him,
At which the numerous Crowds of Ghosts look'd paler,
Their mangled Limbs broke out afresh with bloud,
And the Surprizing horrour shook off sleep;
What is it, oh ye Powers, that ye decree?
Am I design'd to fall a Sacrifice
To the Ambitious Lust of this fell Monster?
If Dreams Presage, Or Visions can forebode
The Fate of Edward, Edward must succeed,
If so you've fix'd it, yet I'le face this storm,
Stand like a King 'gainst my Rellious Doom;
And Perish worthy of my Dignity.

Enter Lord Mountacute. Sr. Thomas Delamore, and Sr. Robert Holland
All.
Health to your Majesty:

King.
The like to all of You, ye are good men;
My Worthy Uncle Edmond when alive
Bad me select and value ye as Jewells,
When Dying, as a Legacy Bequeath'd
Your Faiths and Service;
I am too Young to know the Arts of Men,
But by my hopes I think ye mighty honest.

L. Moun.
Our happiness Lyes only in that thought:

King.
Tell me my Friends, and with that honest Plainness
As suits the Character I have of you:
Why is it that with folded Arms of Late,
And heavy Eyes which speak distemper'd minds,
Ye measure out your steps?
Seeming like Statues more then Councellors,
As mourners wait upon the Dead remains
Of some lov'd friend to his eternall home.

S. Tho. Del.
Most Royall Prince, my honour'd Leige and Master.

King.
Honour'd, my Leige, my Prince and Royall Master.
How Like this sounds to Mortimer;
I find he's grown the President o'th Court,
The Star by which each Courtier guides his hopes.

S. Rob, Holl:
Rather a Meteor or some Exhalation
Rais'd by the Sulphurous vapours of the Earth,
Which borrowing of a Blaze from Reall Lights
Attracts the eyes of Fools to Gaze on it.

King.
No more on your Allegiance, to the Point:

L. Moun.
You have touch'd us home Sir now, and we obey
The Secrets of our hearts shall be unlock'd,
Where you may read yours and the Nations doom;
It is the Man you've named which rides our Spirits
Oh my Lov'd Lord!
Why is this Viper harbour'd in your Bosome,
Which Gnaws insensibly upon your honour?
Why pampher'd with the Worship of mens Knees?
You are our King, Rouse sleeping Majesty,
Awake and view the Souls which wait your rising,
To pay their Long kept Homage where 'tis due.

S. Tho. Del.
Where now is Right? to whom shall we Appeal?
The Queen has plac'd her Power on Mortimer:
Whilest the Laws edge is Ground but on one side,
Nor that employ'd unless to Lop your Friends:
The man who dare reflect on his Proceedings,
Or pity but the Circumstances of Edward,
Is streight beset and sworn into some Plot:
His Life or Fortune's seiz'd, it may be both
Jurys and Witnesses are kept in pay,
Who have agree'd his Ruine e're he's heard.

S. Rob. Holl.
Thus your good Subjects dayly are Oppress'd,
Which Perish by Consent of Perjury.

S. Tho Del.
Thus whilst these vile Possessors wrack the Land,
Your Worth decays and Glory runs to Ruine:
It can't last long they think, so make the most on't,
Assume your Right, or we must all submit,
Our Country Like Estates held in dispute,
Fertile in Woods and Parks the Pride of Wealth,
If he that's in possession thinks it short,
He Cuts down all the Pomp of's Ancestors,
Which many years their Diligence Improv'd
So Worthy men the prop of future hopes,
By this Usurper Mortimer are Lopp'd,
Their Fortunes torn by'th' Roots form long Succession;
And scatter'd to maintain Voluptuousness.

King.
Is't Possible! I always thought him ill,
But you Decypher him a very Devill:
Filling my thoughts with horror of his Crime.

Sr. Tho. Del.
Each Magistrate which should administer
Justice Impartiall, why all are made by him
Which Ruine others to preserve themselves;
The Clergy and the Law are both his Creatures,
The Bishop Chancellor takes Care of that;
Places of Trust and Profit are all Sold:
'Tis Practis'd from the Mitre'd holy head
To'th Needy Starving Verger of the Church:
You can't serve Heav'n on Cushions but you pay for't,
Or Blister your Numb'd Knees upon the Marble;
Then from the Scarlet and the Purple Gown,
Down to the very Cryer of the Court.

Lo. Mount.
Well may the Nation Groan while such as these
Sit at the helm, and what expect but shipwrack.

King.
Now by my Honour I'le no Longer bear
The Ignominious hand of a Controul;
I find my self enlarg'd, Each Artery
Beats double time, as if my Spirits strove
To be in Action; My Fathers Soul
Shoots in my bloud, and Prompts to Resolution:
Thus I Cast from me
The Name of Duty and the Tye of Son,
Since thou art dead to shame, be so to me.

Sr. Tho. Del.
Ay, now my Lord you speak your self a King:
Do but appear with that Authority,
The Praise of Edward Every tongue will sing,
While Ravish'd heav'n does eccho back the sound;
You can't want hands for such a Noble Work,
A Cause like yours would summon the Just Gods
With all their Thunder to the Royall Aid:
Oh let me Kiss your Sacred feet dear Prince;
These Words have added years to my sick Life.

[Kneels
King.
He Weeps, indeed the honest man
Does weep; Rise Delamore for I will be my self,
And this Usurper March shall down to Hell,
All spare the Tree whose Branches serve as shade,
Till the spread mischiefs kill the under-Plants,
Then every Man assists to fell it down,
So this Colossus of the English Isle,
Under whose Legs the Tallest Ships must Pass,
E're they gain harbour shall to Seas be hurl'd,
And in their Bottom finde a Monument:
My Dream comes on apace, and I foretell
This meeting Ominous to March for it Portends;
The Wardship of the Queen, and he expires,
He seeks my Life, and Crown: ha! is't not so?

Sr Tho, Del.
Right Sir, that must be surely the designe
By his removing you to his Residence:
Why was not Salisbury as good a place,
Oh! there you Liv'd surrounded by the Peers
And Loyall Commons, 'twas a place too safe:

Lo. Mount:
Possibly he did it Sir to shew the State
Your Royall Mother keeps—But then
Why was not his fair Castle made your Palace?
No, your eyes would Peirce too deep in his designe,
For there he Lives in Grandeur,
In Masks and Revells every night he reigns
While alls Barr'd up as if he fear'd a spy.

Sr. Rob. Holl.
You now are open to each Traytors shaft,
And in the very mid'st I dare avouch it,
Of those who long to taste your Royall Life.

King.
Thanks my Good Angell, thou hast turn'd my fears,
The Chilness of my Bloud now Ebbs apace,
My shivering Nerves shake their Convulsion off,
And ye have Rouz'd the youthfull Lyon up;
Oh that I had the hearts of these Bloud-hunters,
This Pious Chancellor and Treacherous March;
Like young Alcides would I Gripe the Snakes;
My worthy friends be still about my Person,
Send Instantly to Berkly, Salisbury,
[Exit Holland.
Leicester and Mordant: You withdraw with me;
Business I have requires your best advice,
For like the Mariner I see from far
A Storm is gathering in the distant Sky;
But with these Vessells I can fear no Sea,
The utmost Rigour of the Clouds I'le stand
Safe as the Souls which pitty us from Land.

Exeunt.