For now we hold an old Wolfe by the eare,
That if he slip will seaze upon us both,
And gripe the sorer being gript, himselfe.
Thinke therefore Madam that imports us much,
To erect your sonne with all the speede we may,
And that I be Protector over him.
For our behoofe, 'twill beare the greater sway,
When as a Kings name shall be under writ.
Qu.
Sweet Mortimer, the life of Isabell
Be thou perswaded, that I love thee well,
And therefore so the Prince my sonne be safe,
Whom I esteeme as deere as these mine eyes,
Conclude against his father what thou wilt,
And I my selfe will willingly subscribe.
Mor.ju.
First would I heare newes that he were depos'd,
And then let me alone to handle him.
Enter Messenger
Mor.ju.
Letters, from whence?
Messen.
From Killingworth my Lord.
Qu.
How fares my Lord the King?
Messen.
In health Madam, but full of pensivenesse.
Qu.
Alas poore soule, would I could ease his griefe,
Thankes gentle Winchester, sirra be gone.
Win.
The King hath willingly resign'd his Crowne.
Qu.
O happy newes, send for the Prince my sonne.
Bi.
Further, or this letter was seal'd, Lord Bartly came,
So that he now is gone from Killingworth,
And we have heard that Edmond laid a plot,
To set his brother free, no more but so,
The Lord of Bartley is so pittifull,
As Leicester that had charge of him before.
Qu.
Then let some other be his Guardian.
Mor.ju.
Let me alone, here is the privy Seale,
Whose there, call hither Gurney and Matrevis,
To dash the heavy headed Edmonds drift,
Bartley shall be discharg'd, the King remov'd,
And none but we shall know where he lieth.
Qu.
But Mortimer, as long as he survives
What
