Sit downe, for weele be Barbars to your Grace.
Edw.
Traytors away, what will you murther me,
Or choake your Soveraigne with puddle water?
Gur.
No, but wash your face, & shave away your beard,
Lest you be knowne, and so be rescued.
Matr.
Why strive you thus, your labour is in vaine?
Edw.
The Wren may strive against the Lions strength,
But all in vaine, so vainely do I strive,
To seeke for mercy at a Tyrants hand.
They wash him with puddle water, and shave
his beard away.
That waites upon my poore distressed soule,
O levell all your lookes upon these daring men,
That wronges their Liege & Soveraigne, Englands King,
O Gaveston, it is for thee that I am wrong'd,
For me, both thou and both the Spencers died,
And for your sakes a thousand wrongs Ile take,
The Spencers Ghosts where ever they remaine,
Wish well to mine, then tush, for them Ile dye.
Matr.
Twixt theirs and yours shall be no enmity,
Come, come away, now put the Torches out,
Weele enter in by darkenesse to Killingworth.
Enter Edmond.
Gur.
How now, who comes there?
Matr.
Guard the King sure, it is the Earle of Kent.
Edw.
O gentle brother helpe to rescue me.
Matr.
Keepe them asunder, thrust in the King.
Edm.
Souldiers, let me but talke to him one word.
Gur.
Lay hands upon the Earle for this assault.
Edm.
Lay down your weapons, traytors yeeld the King.
Matr.
Edmond, yeeld thou thy selfe, or thou shalt dye.
Edm.
Base Villaines, wherefore do you gripe me thus?
Gur.
Bind him, and so convey him to the Court.
Edm.
Where is the Court but heere, here is the King,
And I will visite him, why stay you me?
Matr.
The Court is where Lord Mortimer remaines,
Thither shall your honour goe, and so farewell.
Exeunt
