Volume II Part 39 (1/2)

_War._ And shall, or Warwick's sword shall smite in vain.

_Edw._ What, rebels, do you shrink and sound retreat?

_Y. Mor._ No, Edward, no, thy flatterers faint and fly.

_Lan._ They'd best betimes forsake thee, and their trains,[268]

For they'll betray thee, traitors as they are.

_Y. Spen._ Traitor on thy face, rebellious Lancaster!

_Pem._ Away, base upstart, bravest thou n.o.bles thus? 20

_O. Spen._ A n.o.ble attempt, and honourable deed, Is[269] it not, trow ye, to a.s.semble aid, And levy arms against your lawful king!

_Edw._ For which ere long their heads shall satisfy, To appease the wrath of their offended king.

_Y. Mor._ Then, Edward, thou wilt fight it to the last, And rather bathe thy sword in subjects' blood, Than banish that pernicious company?

_Edw._ I, traitors all, rather than thus be braved, Make England's civil towns huge heaps of stones, 30 And ploughs to go about our palace-gates.

_War._ A desperate and unnatural resolution!

Alarum!--to the fight!

St. George for England, and the barons' right.

_Edw._ St. George for England, and King Edward's right.

[_Alarums. Exeunt._

_Re-enter_ EDWARD _and his followers, with the_ Barons _and_ KENT, _captives._

_Edw._ Now, l.u.s.ty lords, now, not by chance of war, But justice of the quarrel and the cause, Vailed is your pride; methinks you hang the heads, But we'll advance them, traitors; now 'tis time To be avenged on you for all your braves, 40 And for the murder of my dearest friend, To whom right well you knew our soul was knit, Good Pierce of Gaveston, my sweet favourite: Ah, rebels! recreants! you made him away.

_Kent._ Brother, in regard of thee, and of thy land, Did they remove that flatterer from thy throne.

_Edw._ So, sir, you have spoke; away, avoid our presence.

[_Exit_ KENT.

Accursed wretches, was't in regard of us, When we had sent our messenger to request He might be spared to come to speak with us, 50 And Pembroke undertook for his return, That thou, proud Warwick, watched the prisoner, Poor Pierce, and headed him 'gainst law of arms; For which thy head shall overlook the rest, As much as thou in rage outwent'st the rest.

_War._ Tyrant, I scorn thy threats and menaces, It is but temporal that thou canst inflict.

_Lan._ The worst is death, and better die to live Than live in infamy under such a king.

_Edw._ Away with them, my lord of Winchester! 60 These l.u.s.ty leaders, Warwick and Lancaster, I charge you roundly--off with both their heads!

Away!

_War._ Farewell, vain world!

_Lan._ Sweet Mortimer, farewell.

_Y. Mor._ England, unkind to thy n.o.bility, Groan for this grief, behold how thou art maimed!

_Edw._ Go, take that haughty Mortimer to the Tower, There see him safe bestowed; and for the rest, Do speedy execution on them all.