London. A Room in the Tower. |
|
Enter MORTIMER, brought in a chair by two Gaolers. |
Mor. Kind keepers of my weak decaying age, |
Let dying Mortimer here rest himself. |
Even like a man new haled from the rack, |
So fare my limbs with long imprisonment; |
And these gray locks, the pursuivants of death, |
Nestor-like aged, in an age of care, |
Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer. |
These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent, |
Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent; |
Weak shoulders, overborne with burdening grief, |
And pithless arms, like to a wither'd vine |
That droops his sapless branches to the ground: |
Yet are these feet, whose strengthless stay is numb, |
Unable to support this lump of clay, |
Swift-winged with desire to get a grave, |
As witting I no other comfort have. |
But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come? |
First Keep. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come: |
We sent unto the Temple, unto his chamber. |
And answer was return'd that he will come. |
Mor. Enough: my soul shall then be satisfied. |
Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine. |
Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign, |
Before whose glory I was great in arms, |
This loathsome sequestration have I had; |
And even since then hath Richard been obscur'd, |
Depriv'd of honour and inheritance. |
But now the arbitrator of despairs, |
Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries, |
With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence: |
I would his troubles likewise were expir'd, |
That so he might recover what was lost. |
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Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET. |
First Keep. My lord, your loving nephew now is come. |
Mor. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come? |
Plan. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly us'd, |
Your nephew, late despised Richard, comes. |
Mor. Direct mine arms I may embrace his neck, |
And in his bosom spend my latter gasp: |
O! tell me when my lips do touch his cheeks, |
That I may kindly give one fainting kiss. |
And now declare, sweet stem from York's great stock, |
Why didst thou say of late thou wert despis'd? |
Plan. First, lean thine aged back against mine arm; |
And in that ease, I'll tell thee my disease. |
This day, in argument upon a case, |
Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me; |
Among which terms he us'd a lavish tongue |
And did upbraid me with my father's death: |
Which obloquy set bars before my tongue, |
Else with the like I had requited him. |
Therefore, good uncle, for my father's sake, |
In honour of a true Plantagenet, |
And for alliance sake, declare the cause |
My father, Earl of Cambridge, lost his head. |
Mor. That cause, fair nephew, that imprison'd me, |
And hath detain'd me all my flow'ring youth |
Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine, |
Was cursed instrument of his decease. |
Plan. Discover more at large what cause that was, |
For I am ignorant and cannot guess. |
Mor. I will, if that my fading breath permit, |
And death approach not ere my tale be done. |
Henry the Fourth, grandfather to this king, |
Depos'd his nephew Richard, Edward's son, |
The first-begotten, and the lawful heir |
Of Edward king, the third of that descent: |
During whose reign the Percies of the North, |
Finding his usurpation most unjust, |
Endeavour'd my advancement to the throne. |
The reason mov'd these warlike lords to this |
Was, for that—young King Richard thus remov'd, |
Leaving no heir begotten of his body— |
I was the next by birth and parentage; |
For by my mother I derived am |
From Lionel Duke of Clarence, the third son |
To King Edward the Third; whereas he |
From John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree, |
Being but fourth of that heroic line. |
But mark: as, in this haughty great attempt |
They laboured to plant the rightful heir, |
I lost my liberty, and they their lives. |
Long after this, when Henry the Fifth |
Succeeding his father Bolingbroke, did reign, |
Thy father, Earl of Cambridge, then deriv'd |
From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of York, |
Marrying my sister that thy mother was, |
Again in pity of my hard distress |
Levied an army, weening to redeem |
And have install'd me in the diadem; |
But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl, |
And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers, |
In whom the title rested, were suppress'd. |
Plan. Of which, my lord, your honour is the last. |
Mor. True; and thou seest that I no issue have, |
And that my fainting words do warrant death: |
Thou art my heir; the rest I wish thee gather: |
But yet be wary in thy studious care. |
Plan. Thy grave admonishments prevail with me. |
But yet methinks my father's execution |
Was nothing less than bloody tyranny. |
Mor. With silence, nephew, be thou politic: |
Strong-fixed is the house of Lancaster, |
And like a mountain, not to be remov'd. |
But now thy uncle is removing hence, |
As princes do their courts, when they are cloy'd |
With long continuance in a settled place. |
Plan. O uncle! would some part of my young years |
Might but redeem the passage of your age. |
Mor. Thou dost then wrong me,—as the slaughterer doth, |
Which giveth many wounds when one will kill.— |
Mourn not, except thou sorrow for my good; |
Only give order for my funeral: |
And so farewell; and fair be all thy hopes, |
And prosperous be thy life in peace and war! [Dies. |
Plan. And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul! |
In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage, |
And like a hermit overpass'd thy days. |
Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast; |
And what I do imagine let that rest. |
Keepers, convey him hence; and I myself |
Will see his burial better than his life. [Exeunt Keepers, bearing out the body of MORTIMER. |
Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, |
Chok'd with ambition of the meaner sort: |
And, for those wrongs, those bitter injuries, |
Which Somerset hath offer'd to my house, |
I doubt not but with honour to redress; |
And therefore haste I to the parliament, |
Either to be restored to my blood, |
Or make my ill the advantage of my good. [Exit. |
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