King Edward the Third, with the fall of Mortimer Earl of March An Historicall Play |
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 | 5. | ACT V. |
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 | King Edward the Third, with the fall of Mortimer Earl of March |  |
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Enter Mortimer.Mor.
My Fears are Past, the noble Treasons sign'd,
And Edward I will mount into thy Throne;
By Heav'n she was so eager in her Vengeance,
She never read the mischeif she has Granted:
Oh how she Rav'd! Cursing her Son and Peers,
Now Chancellor be Staunch in this main Cause,
And thou shalt thrive for thy dear wickedness,
Who waits?
Enter Turrington
Wait on the Chancellor with this, and let it
Pass the Seal, with his utmost Speed:
I'le Instantly be with him too my self,
My Glories are in view, Fate be my Friend,
[Ex. Turr.
In their behalf some kind assistance lend,
'Twere hard my hopes should fail so near their end.
Enter Queen.
Queen.
Have you dispatch'd the Paper which I sign'd?
Mort.
I have, and these couch'd Lyons who shrink their Claws
Till they may Grasp our Lives with firm security,
Fall in our Toyl this night:
I have Intelligence your Son has Summon'd
His Trusty Loyall Lords to Sup with him,
And when they're careless in their Luxury,
We'le bolt upon 'em with such sure Destruction,
Nor Edward, nor the World shall rescue 'em
Queen.
Sure when their busy Souls are sent abroad,
Their harmless bodies will let ours alone.
Mort.
Hold but this noble Resolution, you are secure:
The Rebell Lords have printed and dispers'd,
A formall Proclamation in your Sons name,
In which he does Convene a Parliament,
To meet the following month at Salisbury,
There to dabate on proper means and ways,
How to secure the Nations future peace;
Queen.
A Parliament, oh Insolence!
He shall be whipt to manners: foolish Boy:
His Learned Councell too shall be rewarded:
If Axes, Gibbits, Racks, severest Tortures,
Can be produc'd sufficient for their number.
Mort.
Ay: now we're right, be firm and we'le be great,
Else we must fall a publick spectacle,
To every vulgar villain:
For Princes like the Sun when in Eclips:
Call up the eyes of many to behold 'em,
Who would have none in their full noon of Glory:
The low Crowd to gaze at.
Queen.
Thy pleasing Accent thrills into my breast,
Not the parch'd Earth when the hot Dog-Star reigns,
Sucks up refreshing showers,
With half the eagerness as I thy well-tun'd speech:
Oh hadst thou seen their Insolence my March,
To thy soft Queen, thy tender Isabella,
I'm sure thy Zeal had sent 'em from the world
Tho' every heart thou hadst struck had been a Kings.
Mort.
By all thy mercies and thy dearer favours,
So much I am a slave to thy Desires,
I should not spare a Saint that wrong'd my Love:
Stars let me but enjoy this heav'n on earth,
Keep yours above, for Creatures lesser bless'd.
Isab.
Thou art the Utmost limits of my Wishes,
And oh how dull would seem the Pomp of Crowns,
If mightyer Love make not Ambition easy
So near my Soul, so rooted in my heart,
That were my Son and Mortimer Condemn'd,
And I should have the choice of saving one,
I know not where my Nature would plead stronger.
Mort.
Most condescending Brightness how thou charm'st me,
Why was not I a match for such a prize?
Oh Partiall heav'n, unjust distributer,
That giv'st us Monarchs Souls so poorly cloath'd,
Why hast thou made distinction in the blood,
And none at all i'th mind?
Isab.
It is enough that we concur in Soul:
I think thee worthy to partake my Love,
And thou mayst think thy self a King in that.
Mort.
Thus Bless'd then I am one, and envy none,
And to remove all fears that Curb my Joys,
I'le instantly dispatch thy Sons Instructers;
Then when our enemies to Love are hush'd
We'le pay our thanks to Love in Love,
Thou shalt the Alter of the offring be
And I the Sacrifice which here shall dye.
[Exeunt.
Enter Chancellour and Maria.
Chan.
Ay my Charmer, these Cloaths become thee,
Now thou look'st like what thou art; but what thou
Shalt be the Event must tell.
I know what you design me, my Reverend
Equity; but I think I shall be arm'd against it.
Chan.
This night but over child, we'le Revell without Measure, no
interrupting business shall torment us; the authors of that Plague shall
be remov'd, and then my little armfull of comfort.
Mar.
What then Sir.
Chan.
Nay, wouldst thou have me tell thee, what then child, no, guess
Love, guess, and tickle thy self with the thoughts on't; such things I will
do for thee, thou shalt be the Darling of the Nation, all hands shall honour
thee, and all eyes admire thee.
Mar.
Shall I be this, Sir?
Chan.
More child, more, whoever has ought to beg of Tarleton, shall
come to thee; thou shalt prefer, take down, do as thou wilt; have a
greater Court then the Queen—and be more throng'd then a Country
Church, when a Bishop preaches: In short I will set thee against the
Proudest Minx that's kept either by Lord Spirituall or Temporall.
Mar.
But Sir—
Chan.
Not a word more, I expect the Earl of March each minute, and
when this night is over, all the rest of my nights and days shall be at thy
Devotion; give thy Uncle this; 'tis a Commission to take the Lives of
six Rank, Stubborn, Loyall Rogues, which when dispatch'd—
Mar.
Are they your Lordships Enemies?
Chan.
I know not what prejudice they have to my Person, but they're
Enemies to my Interest, and that's a Statesmans Cause at all times:
Their's Mountacute, and Delamore, Holland, and others: what faces the
Knaves will make at the Gallows when they'r Bowells are burnt under
their own noses? go Love, go, if thou stayst thou'lt set me so a-gog for
thee; and I shall be baffled: as I always have been by this troublesome
March.
Mar.
Mountacute's Death, no Villain, no,
His fate shall be reverst if this can plead,
And fall curst Chancellour on thy own head.
[Exit.
Chan.
'Tis a sweet little Rogue, in what a comfortable manner
shall I spend the latter part of my Life, my piety grows cold for want
of a bed-fellow: what tho' I am a Father of the Church; as to that
point the world will say, I am debarr'd from the Sex; But then again,
I am a Father of the Law, and I never read of a Judge or a Chancellour
that was ever depriv'd, or suspended for satisfying the curiosity of Nature,
and according to the Rules of Equity, ergo, I ought to have the
same Priviledge as the best of the long Robe: In short, I will enjoy this
Woman as I am Chancellour, and those days wherein I cannot behave
Enter Mortimer.
My Lord of March, your Lordships most diligent and sincere humble
Servant.
Mort.
I'st sign'd;
Chan.
It is, and these wise Councellors shall rue they'r Politicks.
Mort.
Where is it?
Chan.
I have dispatch'd it to Judge Eitherside, he'le make 'em smoak, I
warrant you.
Mort.
Hell and the Devill; did'st thou read it?
Chan.
No, for I concluded what it was.
Mort.
Shame on thy negligence; why 'twas an order for the Kings
Confinement, his Mothers hand to make him a Close Prisoner.
Chan.
There's no harm done, I warrant you, were it an Order for his
head, this fellow would put it in Execution.
Mort.
Send for it, he must not be concern'd in it,
Chan.
I will, I will.
Mort.
But hark you my Lord Chancellor;
Suppose, when we have lop'd these Branches off,
The Trunk remains from whence will grow fresh mischiefs;
I find the Boy is fond of Soveraign Sway,
Fond of the lofty sound of Majesty;
His Soul is tun'd to absolute Prerogative,
And all his Consort Strike that pleasing air.
Chan.
Look you, my Lord, let us deliver him out of this Evill, and
I'le take care he falls into temptation no more.
Mort.
Thou know'st him not,
He has a weyward Soul, and Stubborn temper,
The Pride and Spirit of the mother swells him,
With all his Fathers positive revenge:
He affects a mildness for the want of Power,
But when he once has conquer'd his restraint
We must expect to pay for these mens Lives.
Chan.
Nay, 'tis good to be sure my Lord, that's certain, and if I
thought his Reign would put an end to ours, Charity begins at home, and
I beg the young Princes pardon, I would not tamely resign I tell him that.
Mort.
This Parliament that's summon'd will be dangerous,
The Commons hate the Nobles, envy Us,
And if we finde not means to Curb these Measures,
We shall too late repent our follys, Tarleton,
Our heads, our heads, must answer for our actions.
Our heads! I'le send him to his Father first.
Mort.
Ay, there thou'rt right, what sayst thou to another
Edvardum, Occidere nollite tumere bonum est.
Chan.
Say to't, why if he persists he must have it: I'le consider it my
Lord, I'le weigh it maturely, and if it be requisit—
Mort.
If it be requisit dull thing it is, he once remov'd, the Queen
we Rule at Pleasure,
The power of Kings though not the Glorious Title.
Chan.
Well, well, my Lord, these Knaves dispatch'd, we shall not
boggle at a greater matter, I'le to the Judge and we'le consult the best.
'Tis flattery and ill actions which prefers us
And we have flatterers too which thrive by us;
For the same reason we do by our Prince,
Power makes us Knaves we're honest out of Service,
But when our Princes favours fall away,
Nothing so despicable or so unregarded,
Therefore 'tis Policy when once we're in,
To finish by those Rules we did begin.
[Exit.
Mort.
Nature which gav'st me Soul so long for Power,
Accomplish what is promis'd by this night,
And whilst my Creatures act this Murdering Scene,
I'le Revell in the Arms of the fond Queen.
A Crown thou Centre of Ambition, Lust,
Thou'rt the reward o'th brave as well as Just,
And let the Factions 'gainst my Title roar,
I'le quickly quell Disputes when once I've Power.
[Exit.
Scene King Edward, Mountacute, Bishop of Salisbury, Delamore and Holland.
King.
Was ever Treason so unnaturall?
A mothers hand to sign her Sons Destruction,
Now I'm convinc'd who set my father going.
Dela.
Fate Sir, has put your Life in your own hands,
And shews by this discovery how 'tis priz'd,
Neglect not such a blessing but improve it,
Strike Early or you may repent your sloth.
King.
Good heav'n! how much I owe you for this safety,
And the kind Instrument you chuse to work it;
I fear I want rewards to recompence,
Yet I'le consider till I've tyred thought
To gratify thy Love and Loyalty.
Moun.
The Virgin who preserv'd you Sir, you owe it to,
Make her amends, my Duty is my payment;
But Sir, resolve apace, each moment is Important.
King.
I will, we'l force the Castle.
Dela.
Hold Sir,
When I was Governour I found a Place,
Which now may be of admirable use,
There is a Private, deep, but narrow Vault,
Whose Dismall rough unshapen way,
Was surely torn only with hands by a dark guess,
For 'tis so strange no light could guide the making,
'Twas work'd by Prisoners sure for Liberty,
For in the lowest Dungeon it begins,
And has a passage out just by the River,
There we must enter, and when we have reach'd the Jayl,
The part o'th Pallace over it is Mortimers.
King.
What follows?
Dela.
I'th' Cæling is a place with rusty bolts,
Which formerly no doubt was a trap-door,
But for what use they best must know who made it,
This we may force, and so surprize the Villain.
Moun.
'Tis a good Stratagem.
King.
Let's Instantly about it.
Holl.
I think 'twere better that your Majesty
With some o'th' Lords, and me, secure the City,
While Mountacute and Delamore with a good guard
Pass this same Vault.
[my Lord of Leicester with a party force the Guards of the Queens side.
Dela.
'Tis Prudently advis'd.
King.
Each to his Task then, Mortimer we come,
This Night begins my Reign and Seals thy doom.
SCENE The Queens Apartment.
Enter Isabella and Mortimer.Mort.
Thus soft and secure we taste the Joys of Love,
Whilst buisy Polititians plot for Interest,
And all to get the Title of a Knave:
The Soldier now lies hard for Gaudy honour,
Endures the raw rough blast of Winters Season,
With all the harsh necessities of Camps;
And for the name of Gallantry and Great,
After a long escape Provokes his Fate:
But Love.
Queen.
Ay, that my Mortimer's above 'em all,
Who envys honour that is rich in Love,
Mercy which is the Attribute of Heav'n,
The first Creator of it sure was Love,
And pitty is the Instinct of its passion.
Love makes the Vulgar proud, the Noble Gods,
The Gods themselves if Strangers to Love's Joys,
Their much admir'd Elizium is Imperfect.
Mort.
Some Musick for my Charmer, let us indulge
And gratify our Souls Luxuriously:
Raptures unknown the harmony shall raise,
Our hearts shall beat the measures of the time,
And tender sighs eccho each artfull note,
Till our soft murmurs fall by soft degrees,
And dye like o're-charg'd Flutes with too much playing.
Queen.
I cannot answer as I ought but thus.
[Embraces.
A Song. After the Song Mountacute, Delamore, and Attendants come from under the Stage.
Mort.
Now let's to our Repose my softest Love,
This Night ends all our fears, and I have those
Whose hands before the Moon has gone her Race,
Will have our Enemies all in Possession;
Young snarling Mountacute, that hot-bred boy
With his old Councellor, close Delamore shall
Smart, my Isabella.
[A Clashing of Swords.
Ha! what means this noise my Guards: what ho—
Death, it grows lowder, are they all engag'd?
Treason, Treason.
Enter Turrington bloudy.
Why that dismall object?
Tur.
Shift for your self, Sir, all's betray'd and lost,
The King and Leicester have cut off your Guards,
Burn Mortimer, fire the Queen—I can no more,
But that I ever lov'd you, let this witness.
[dies.
Queen.
Oh Heav'ns! what shall we do?
Here, my best life, there is a Vault
That will convey thee.
Mount.
We will convey him, Madam, to a place
As safe as he design'd us!
Mort.
Horror and Hell!
Queen.
Oh spare my Mortimer, my gentle Son.
Mount.
Madam, you are deceiv'd, he is not come yet.
Del.
Well, haughty E. of March, what think you now?
Mort.
That I shall dye, thou'rt answer'd to thy mind.
Queen.
O, ye malitious Powers!
Moun.
Sir Tho. let's withdraw:
No doubt these Lovers have a leave to take,
We will not separate 'em too abruptly;
Call when you're teady, Sir, I shan't be out o'th way:
You, Sirs, secure the Vault.
Mort.
I scorn thy Insolence,
And Mountacute, I'le fall so nobly
[Ex. Moun. Dela.
That thou shalt loose thy ends in my calm sufferance.
Queen.
Oh Mortimer!
Mort.
Oh Isabella!
Queen.
I know not how to look or speak,
For I have brought this on thee,
My Love has tempted thee to taste Ambition,
And thou hast follow'd me in all thy actions.
Mort.
Thus the first pair their miseries surveigh'd,
When from their blessed Eden they were driven;
Their eyes seem'd to accuse 'em of the fact:
But Love in each pittied the Crime in both:
She tempted him to make him bless'd like her.
And when he found her Ruine, urg'd his own:
But oh much happyer was their Punishment,
Then both were curst, but they were curst together,
And suffering both alike, neither were wretched.
Queen.
I will not long out-live thee, for I cannot,
Thou wert the prop on which my hopes did hang,
Like curious Buildings wrought by wond'rous Art,
Where the vast frame's supported by one Pinn,
Mort.
No, live my Queen, thou may'st be happy long,
'Tis only I must bleed, my bloud's the cure,
And 'tis Impossible it can be spar'd;
But Isabella when thou shalt retire,
For oh I fear too much they will confine thee,
Think on thy March, and pardon his Ambition,
For nothing but my fondness has betray'd thee,
A vast excess of Love to make thee great,
To set thee out o'th' reach of thy Sons Power,
Lest he might slight thee as his Father did.
Queen.
Oh angry heav'ns you've punish'd us severely,
The prospect of our greatness has undone us;
The Glitt'ring shew has drawn us out too far,
And we're surpriz'd just as we thought to grasp it,
Like Voyagers seduc'd by a fair Sea,
A temperate Air, the Sky Serene and clear,
Just as they have their wish'd for shore in view,
By sudden Storms the tatter'd Bark is toss'd,
And all within the sight of Land are lost.
Mort.
He comes, thy Son approaches;
Farewell to all that's dear,
I leave a certain Heav'n to go I know not where.
Enter King, Mountacute, Delamore, Holland, Chancellour, and Serjeant.
King.
Seize the vile Traytor, hurry him down the dungeon
There let him groan till day, and then he dies.
Queen.
Oh spare him, spare him, banish us together,
But do not take his life, thy Mother pleads.
King.
Thou Scandal of my blood—remove the Queen.
Queen.
The Queen, am I not thy Mother?
Oh hear me.
King.
I'm deaf, away.
Queen.
May heav'n forget thy Prayers when thou shalt plead,
And may thy Mothers Curse hang on thy head.
[Exit.
King.
Now Chancellor for thee.
Thou shame of Church and Justice,
What can'st thou say?
Nothing but begg for Mercy; for if your Majesty considers I
have been but a Tool, and am not the first Statesman that has been Compell'd
to be a Knave by Court-Minions.
King.
No Hereford, my Fathers blood requires thine;
Away with him, unfurnish him of all those Robes,
And give him such as fit his wickedness:
The Nation must be satisfy'd, and thou must dye.
Prepare for't, Prelate.
Chan.
This 'tis to be too Eminent in State mischiefs,
Others that wish'd as well to the Cause as I,
Will scape for not acting so publickly
[Exit.
Serj.
Ay! that Chancellor I'm afraid will not dye alone; I am Damnably
afraid his Grace to make up his Equipage must have a Chief-Justice
that we may Swing in Figure.
Mountacute brings in Maria.
Mount.
Now Sir, I claim your promise,
This Virgin is what we owe our Lives to,
Her birth you've been acquainted with,
And by what means she was compell'd to live with the Chancellor;
And sure 'twas Providence which plac'd her here for all our Benefits:
I beg her for my Wife.
King.
She's Yours, and to make her wellcome,
I invest her with all the Chancellor's Estate,
And Viscount Mountacute be Earl of Salsbury.
Mount.
Thus let us thank your Majesty
[Kneels
King.
Rise both;
Mari.
No Royall Sir, I have one boon to beg,
That old mans Life my Uncle, tho' an ill one,
Nor has he Acted ought what e're was purpos'd,
And since my being has made me the Instrument,
Of what's discover'd: I humbly would Entreat—
King.
Thou shalt not plead in vain, he's safe, and if he can be honest
we may in time take Care of him.
Serj.
I humbly thank your Majesty, and will study to deserve this
Mercy; I am not the first Knave that has turn'd honest man when he
found his Roguery would do him no good.
King.
My Lord of Leicester, Delamore, Exeter and
Holland, and all shall share our favours:
May you continue as you have begun,
The Parliament's at hand: If they Encourage me
Del.
Doubt not their Duty Sir.
King.
To Scotland first I will an Army Lead,
And Check the Growing Mischeifs which are spread;
That done to France I will in Person go,
The Flower D'Luce shall to the Lyon bow,
If my kind Commoners are Just and Free
I'le loose my own or fix their Liberty
Long have they suffer'd by their Forreign Foes;
And Evill Kings I fear has been the Cause,
Heav'n Guide my Steps that our Records may tell,
How Edward did the Insulting French Repell,
How English-men with Glory did Return,
Whilst Gallick Ruines did our Conquests Mourn.
| King Edward the Third, with the fall of Mortimer Earl of March | |