Edward II

and remedy,
That from your princely person you remove
This Spenser, as a putrifying branch
That deads the royal vine, whose golden leaves
Impale your princely head, your diadem;
Whose brightness such pernicious upstarts dim,
Say they, and lovingly advise your grace
To cherish virtue and nobility,
And have old servitors in high esteem,
And shake off smooth dissembling flatterers:
This granted, they, their honours, and their lives,
Are to your highness vowed and consecrate. Younger Spenser Ah, traitors! will they still display their pride? King Edward

Away! tarry no answer, but be gone!⁠—
Rebels, will they appoint their sovereign
His sports, his pleasures, and his company?⁠—
Yet, ere thou go, see how I do divorce embraces the Younger Spenser
Spenser from thee. Now get thee to thy lords,
And tell them I will come to chastise them
For murdering Gaveston: hie thee, get thee gone!
Edward, with fire and sword, follows at thy heels. Exit Herald.
My lords, perceive you how these rebels swell?⁠—
Soldiers, good hearts! defend your sovereign’s right,
For, now, even now, we march to make them stoop.
Away!

Exeunt. Alarums, excursions, a great fight, and a retreat sounded, within.

Scene III

The battlefield, Boroughbridge.

	Enter King Edward, the Elder Spenser, the Younger Spenser, Baldock, and Noblemen of the King’s side.
King Edward	Why do we sound retreat? upon them, lords! This day I shall your vengeance with my sword On those proud rebels that are up in arms, And do confront and countermand their king.
Younger Spenser	I doubt it not, my lord; right will prevail.
Elder Spenser	’Tis not amiss, my liege, for either part To breathe a while; our men, with sweat and dust All choked well near, begin to faint for heat; And this retire refresheth horse and man.
Younger Spenser	Here come the rebels.
	Enter the Younger Mortimer, Lancaster, Warwick, Pembroke, and others.
Younger Mortimer	Look, Lancaster, yonder is Edward Among his flatterers.
Lancaster	And there let him be, Till he pay dearly for their company.
Warwick	And shall, or Warwick’s sword shall smite in vain.
King Edward	What, rebels, do you shrink and sound retreat?
Younger Mortimer	No, Edward, no; thy flatterers faint and fly.
Lancaster	They’d best betimes forsake thee and their trains, For they’ll betray thee, traitors as they are.
Younger Spenser	Traitor on thy face, rebellious Lancaster!
Pembroke	Away, base upstart! brav’st thou nobles thus?
Elder Spenser	A noble attempt and honourable deed, Is it not, trow ye, to assemble aid And levy arms against your lawful king?
King Edward	For which, ere long, their heads shall satisfy To appease the wrath of their offended king.
Younger Mortimer	Then, Edward, thou wilt fight it to the last, And rather bathe thy sword in subjects’ blood Than banish that pernicious company?
King Edward	Ay, traitors all, rather than thus be braved, Make England’s civil towns huge heaps of stones, And ploughs to go about our palace-gates.
Warwick	A desperate and unnatural resolution!⁠— Alarum to the fight! Saint George for England, and the barons’ right!
King Edward	Saint George for England, and King Edward’s right!
	Alarums. Exeunt the two parties severally.
	Re-enter King Edward and his followers, with the Barons and Kent captive.
King Edward	Now, lusty 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, 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.
King Edward	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, 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.
Warwick	Tyrant, I scorn thy threats and menaces; It is but temporal that thou canst inflict.
Lancaster	The worst is death; and better die to live Than live in infamy under such a king.
King Edward	Away with them, my lord of Winchester! These lusty leaders, Warwick and Lancaster, I charge you roundly, off with both their heads! Away!
Warwick	Farewell, vain world!
Lancaster	Sweet Mortimer, farewell!
Younger Mortimer	England, unkind to thy nobility, Groan for this grief! behold how thou art maimed!
King Edward	Go, take that haughty Mortimer to the Tower; There see him safe bestowed; and, for the rest, Do speedy execution on them all. Be gone!
Younger Mortimer	What, Mortimer! can ragged stony walls Immure thy virtue that aspires to heaven? No, Edward, England’s scourge, it may not be; Mortimer’s hope surmounts his fortune far.
	The captive Barons are led off.
King Edward	Sound, drums and trumpets! March with me, my friends. Edward this day hath crowned him king anew.
	Exeunt all except the Younger Spenser, Levune and Baldock.
Younger Spenser	Levune, the trust that we repose in thee Begets the quiet of King Edward’s land: Therefore be gone in haste, and with advice Bestow that treasure on the lords of France, That, therewith all enchanted, like the guard That suffered Jove to pass in showers of gold To Danae, all aid may be denied To Isabel the queen, that now in France Makes friends, to cross the seas with her young son, And step into his father’s regiment.
Levune	That’s it these barons and the subtle queen Long levelled at.
Baldock	Yea, but, Levune, thou seest, These barons lay their heads on blocks together: What they intend, the hangman frustrates clean.
Levune	Have you no doubt, my lords, I’ll clap so close Among the lords of France with England’s gold, That Isabel shall make her plaints in vain, And France shall be obdurate with her tears.
Younger Spenser	Then make for France amain; Levune, away! Proclaim King Edward’s wars and victories.
	Exeunt.

Act IV

Scene I

Near the Tower of London.

	Enter Kent.
Kent	Fair blows the wind for France: blow, gentle gale, Till Edmund be