_Y. Mor._ Nay, madam, if you be a warrior,
You must not grow so passionate in speeches.--
Lords, sith that we are, by sufferance of heaven,
Arriv'd and armed in this prince's right,
Here for our country's cause swear we to him
All homage, fealty, and forwardness;
And for the open wrongs and injuries
Edward hath done to us, his queen, and land,
We come in arms to wreck it with the sword;
That England's queen in peace may repossess
Her dignities and honours; and withal
We may remove these flatterers from the king
That havock England's wealth and treasury.
_Sir J._ Sound trumpets, my lord, and forward let us march.
Edward will think we come to flatter him.
_Kent._ I would he never had been flatter'd more! [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ KING EDWARD, BALDOCK, _and the younger_ SPENSER.

_Y. Spen._ Fly, fly, my lord! the queen is overstrong;
Her friends do multiply, and yours do fail.
Shape we our course to Ireland, there to breathe.
_K. Edw._ What, was I born to fly and run away,
And leave the Mortimers conquerors behind?
Give me my horse, and let's reinforce our troops.
And in this bed of honour die with fame.
_Bald._ O, no, my lord! this princely resolution
Fits not the time: away! we are pursu'd. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ KENT, _with a sword and target._

_Kent._ This way he fled; but I am come too late.
Edward, alas, my heart relents for thee!
Proud traitor, Mortimer, why dost thou chase
Thy lawful king, thy sovereign, with thy sword?
Vile wretch, and why hast thou, of all unkind,
Borne arms against thy brother and thy king?
Rain showers of vengeance on my cursed head,
Thou God, to whom in justice it belongs
To punish this unnatural revolt!
Edward, this Mortimer aims at thy life:
O, fly him, then! But, Edmund, calm this rage;
Dissemble, or thou diest; for Mortimer
And Isabel do kiss, while they conspire:
And yet she bears a face of love, forsooth:
Fie on that love that hatcheth death and hate!
Edmund, away! Bristow to Longshanks' blood
Is false; be not found single for suspect:
Proud Mortimer pries near into thy walks.

_Enter_ QUEEN ISABELLA, PRINCE EDWARD, _the younger_
MORTIMER, _and_ SIR JOHN JOHN OF HAINAULT.

_Q. Isab._ Successful battle gives the God of kings
To them that fight in right, and fear in wrath,
Since, then, successfully we have prevail'