Edward II

forget myself! Bishop of Winchester My lord⁠— King Edward

Call me not lord; away, out of my sight!
Ah, pardon me! grief makes me lunatic.
Let not that Mortimer protect my son;
More safety there is in a tiger’s jaws
Than his embracements. Bear this to the queen,
Wet with my tears, and dried again with sighs: Gives a handkerchief.
If with the sight thereof she be not moved,
Return it back, and dip it in my blood.
Commend me to my son, and bid him rule
Better than I: yet how have I transgressed,
Unless it be with too much clemency?

Trussel And thus, most humbly do we take our leave. Exeunt the Bishop of Winchester and Trussel with the crown. King Edward

Farewell; I know the next news that they bring
Will be my death; and welcome shall it be:
To wretched men death is felicity.

Enter Berkeley, who gives a paper to Leicester. Leicester Another post! what news brings he? King Edward

Such news as I expect.⁠—Come, Berkeley, come,
And tell thy message to my naked breast.

Berkeley

My lord, think not a thought so villainous
Can harbour in a man of noble birth.
To do your highness service and devoir,
And save you from your foes, Berkeley would die.

Leicester

My lord, the council of the queen command
That I resign my charge.

King Edward And who must keep me now? Must you, my lord? Berkeley Ay, my most gracious lord; so ’tis decreed. King Edward

Taking the paper. By Mortimer, whose name is written here!
Well may I rent his name that rends my heart. Tears it.
This poor revenge hath something eased my mind:
So may his limbs be torn as is this paper!
Hear me, immortal Jove, and grant it too!

Berkeley Your grace must hence with me to Berkeley straight. King Edward

Whither you will: all places are alike,
And every earth is fit for burial.

Leicester Favour him, my lord, as much as lieth in you. Berkeley Even so betide my soul as I use him! King Edward

Mine enemy hath pitied my estate,
And that’s the cause that I am now removed.

Berkeley And thinks your grace that Berkeley will be cruel? King Edward

I know not; but of this am I assured,
That death ends all, and I can die but once.⁠—
Leicester, farewell.

Leicester Not yet, my lord; I’ll bear you on your way. Exeunt.

Scene II

The Royal Palace, London.

	Enter Queen Isabella and the Younger Mortimer.
Younger Mortimer	Fair Isabel, now have we our desire; The proud corrupters of the light-brained king Have done their homage to the lofty gallows, And he himself lies in captivity. Be ruled by me, and we will rule the realm: In any case take heed of childish fear, For now we hold an old wolf by the ears, That, if he slip, will seize upon us both, And gripe the sorer, being griped himself. Think therefore, madam, that imports us much To erect your son with all the speed we may, And that I be protector over him: For our behoof, ’twill bear the greater sway Whenas a king’s name shall be under-writ.
Queen Isabella	Sweet Mortimer, the life of Isabel, Be thou persuaded that I love thee well; And therefore, so the prince my son be safe, Whom I esteem as dear as these mine eyes, Conclude against his father what thou wilt, And I myself will willingly subscribe.
Younger Mortimer	First would I hear news he were deposed, And then let me alone to handle him.
	Enter Messenger.
	Letters! from whence?
Messenger	From Killingworth, my lord.
Queen Isabella	How fares my lord the king?
Messenger	In health, madam, but full of pensiveness.
Queen Isabella	Alas, poor soul, would I could ease his grief!
	Enter the Bishop of Winchester with the crown.
	Thanks, gentle Winchester.⁠— Sirrah, be gone.
	Exit Messenger.
Bishop of Winchester	The king hath willingly resigned his crown.
Queen Isabella	O, happy news! send for the prince my son.
Bishop of Winchester	Further, or this letter was sealed, Lord Berkeley came, So that he now is gone from Killingworth; And we have heard that Edmund laid a plot To set his brother free; nor more but so. The Lord of Berkeley is so pitiful As Leicester that had charge of him before.
Queen Isabella	Then let some other be his guardian.
Younger Mortimer	Let me alone; here is the privy-seal.
	Exit the Bishop of Winchester.
	To Attendants within. Who’s there? Call hither, Gurney and Matrevis.⁠— To dash the heavy-headed Edmund’s drift, Berkeley shall be discharged, the king removed, And none but we shall know where he lieth.
Queen Isabella	But, Mortimer, as long as he survives, What safety rests for us or for my son?
Younger Mortimer	Speak, shall he presently be despatched and die?
Queen Isabella	I would he were, so ’twere not by my means!
	Enter Matrevis and Gurney.
Younger Mortimer	Enough.⁠—Matrevis, write a letter presently Unto the Lord of Berkeley from ourself, That he resign the king to thee and Gurney; And, when ’tis done, we will subscribe our name.
Matrevis	It shall be done, my lord. Writes.
Younger Mortimer	Gurney⁠—
Gurney	My lord?
Younger Mortimer	As thou intend’st to rise by Mortimer, Who now makes Fortune’s wheel turn as he please, Seek all the means thou canst to make him droop, And neither give him kind word nor good look.
Gurney	I warrant you, my lord.
Younger Mortimer	And this above the rest: because we hear That Edmund casts to work his liberty, Remove him still from place to place by night, Till at the last he come to Killingworth, And then from thence to Berkeley back again; And by the way, to make him fret the more, Speak curstly to him; and in any case Let no man comfort him, if he chance to weep, But amplify his grief with bitter words.
Matrevis	Fear not, my lord; we’ll do as you command.
Younger Mortimer	So, now away! post thitherwards amain.
Queen Isabella	Whither goes this letter? to my lord the king? Commend me humbly to his majesty, And tell him that I labour all in vain To ease his grief and work his liberty; And bear him this as witness of my love. Gives ring.
Matrevis	I will, madam. Exit with Gurney.
Younger Mortimer	Finely dissembled! do so still, sweet queen. Here comes the young prince with