University of Virginia Library

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,
Resolving not to rest, till she had Revenge:
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:
Shine out, and you will be too bright for
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.

Mar.
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

my self to her as a Chancellor, I will dedicate to devotion and Sanctity.
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.

Chan.
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,

And Mortimer and Tarleton will have both
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.

A decay'd Statesman is a wretched thing,
'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;
Oh Mountacute I stand so much indebted,
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.