Exeunt.
ACT FIVE, SCENE FOUR
Enter Mortimer alone.
MORTIMER. The King must die, or Mortimer goes down;
The commons now begin to pity him.
Yet he that is the cause of Edward's death
Is sure to pay for it when his son is of age,
And therefore will I do it cunningly.
This letter, written by a friend of ours,
Contains his death, yet bids them save his life.
'Edwardum occidere nolite timere, bonum est;'
Fear not to kill the King, 'tis good he die.
But read it thus, and that's another sense:
'Edwardum occidere nolite, timere bonum est;'
Kill not the King, 'tis good to fear the worst.
Unpointed as it is, thus shall it go,
That, being dead, if it chance to be found,
Matrevis and the rest may bear the blame,
And we be quit that caused it to be done.
Within this room is locked the messenger
That shall convey it, and perform the rest.
And by a secret token that he bears,
Shall he be murdered when the deed is done.
Lightborn, come forth!
Enter Lightborn.
Art thou so resolute as thou wast?
LIGHTBORN. What else, my lord? And far more resolute.
MORTIMER. And hast thou cast how to accomplish it?
LIGHTBORN. Ay, ay, and none shall know which way he died.
MORTIMER. But at his looks, Lightborn, thou wilt relent.
LIGHTBORN. Relent? Ha, ha! I use much to relent.
MORTIMER. Well, do it bravely, and be secret.
LIGHTBORN. You shall not need to give instructions;
'Tis not the first time I have killed a man:
I learned in Naples how to poison flowers;
To strangle with a lawn thrust down the throat;
To pierce the windpipe with a needle's point;
Or, whilst one is asleep, to take a quill
And blow a little powder in his ears;
Or open his mouth, and pour quicksilver down.
But yet I have a braver way than these.
MORTIMER. What's that?
LIGHTBORN. Nay, you shall pardon me; none shall know my tricks.
MORTIMER. I care not how it is, so it be not spied.
Deliver this to Gurney and Matrevis.
At every ten miles' end thou hast a horse.
Take this. Away, and never see me more!
LIGHTBORN. No?
MORTIMER. No; unless thou bring me news of Edward's death.
LIGHTBORN. That will I quickly do. Farewell, my lord.
MORTIMER. The prince I rule, the Queen do I command,
And with a lowly congee to the ground
The proudest lords salute me as I pass;
I seal, I cancel, I do what I will.
Feared am I more than loved; let me be feared,
And, when I frown, make all the court look pale.
I view the Prince with Aristarchus' eyes,
Whose looks were as a breeching to a boy.
They thrust upon me the Protectorship
And sue to me for that that I desire.
While at the council table, grave enough,
And not unlike a bashful puritan,
First I complain of imbecility,
Saying it is onus quam gravissimum (The heaviest of burdens)
Till, being interrupted by my friends,
Suscepi that provinciam, as they term it; (I accepted that burden)
And to conclude, I am protector now.
Now is all sure: the Queen and Mortimer
Shall rule the realm, the king; and none rule us.
Mine enemies will I plague, my friends advance.
And what I list command who dare control?
Maior sum quam cui possit fortuna nocere. (Ovid: 'I am too great for Fortune to harm')
And that this be the coronation day,
It pleaseth me and Isabel the Queen.
The trumpets sound; I must go take my place.
Enter the young King, Bishop of Canterbury, Champion, nobles, Queen.
CANTERBURY. Long live King Edward, by the grace of god,
King of England and Lord of Ireland!
CHAMPION. If any Christian, heathen, Turk, or Jew,
Dares but affirm that Edward's not true king,
And will avouch his saying with the sword,
I am the champion that will combat him.
MORTIMER.