Yet gentle Monkes, for Treasure, Gold, nor Fee,
Doe you betray us and our company.
Mon.
Your Grace may sit secure, if none but wee do wot of your abode.
Spen.
Not one alive, but shrewdly I suspect,
A gloomy fellow in a Mead below,
A gave a long looke after us my Lord,
And all the Land I know is up in armes,
Armes that pursue our lives with deadly hate.
Bald.
We were imbark't for Ireland, wretched we,
With aukward winds, and with sore tempests driven
To fall on shore, and here to pine in feare
Of Mortimer and his Confederates.
Edw.
Mortimer, who talkes of Mortimer
Who wounds me with the name of Mortimer
That bloudy man? good father on thy lap
Lay I this head, laden with mickle care,
O might I never ope these eyes againe,
Never againe lift up this drooping head,
O never more lift up this dying heart!
Spen.son.
Looke up my Lord. Baldocke, this drowsinesse
Betides no good, here even we are betrayed.
Enter with Welch hookes, Rice ap Howell, a Mower,
and the Earle of Leicester.
Mower.
Upon my life, these be the men ye seeke,
Rice.
Fellow enough: my Lord I pray be short,
A faire Commission warrants what we doe.
Lei.
The Queenes commission, urg'd by Mortimer,
What cannot gallant Mortimer doe with the Queene?
Alas, see where he sits, and hopes unseene,
T'escape their hands that seeke to reave his Life:
Too true it is, quem dies vidit veniens superbum,
Hunc dies vidit fugiens jacentem.
But Leister leave to grow so passionate,
Spencer and Baldocke by no other names,
I arrest you of high treason heere,
Stand not on Titles, but obey the arrest,
Tis in the name of Isabell the Queene.
My
