Turr. I heard my Lord Cramdown fay, he had not broke his Faft this Half Hour.

Mort. Poor Gentleman! I am afraid he will be ftarved if he fafts half another Is every thing ready?

Turr. Every thing my Lord- the Sauces are all prepar❜d.

Mort. Well then, I'll be with themThey are above bribing, they fay; let us fee if we cannot eat and drink them into better Underftanding.

And when I have difputed 'em, I'll repair
To finish Matters with the imprifon'd Fair.
End of the Second ACT.

A

ACT III.

SCENE CONTINUED.
Enter Turrington and Nevill.
TURRINGTON.

FFAIRS feem veering, and the Fane of
Edward,

Which hitherto has pointed to our Wishes,
Now turns against us. Out of what Corner
Comes this blaft of Change? It is fudden.
All are as hufh as Murderers when efcaping.
Privacy, the Waiting-woman's Virtue, is in ufe,
And the young Prince has left his darling Sports
For clofer Studies.

Nevill. 'Tis odd; and we muft arm against it
-juft now

I would have paffed the Anti-chamber,
And a ftarched Fellow grimly ftopped my Paffage.
I asked the Knave by whofe Authority

He barr'd my Entrance; he replied morofely,
'Twas by my Betters, and he would obey them:
Then, I demanded if the Rafcal knew me ?
Turr. What said he then?

Nevill. He answered better than I knew my
felf;

Bid me return; there was no room for Scouts.
The ill-bred Dog hath furely ftood corrected,

Had

Had not old Leicester, Berkley, Exeter,
With bufy Faces come into the Room.

To thefe he turn'd the Key-faid they were ftaid for.
Turr. Thefe froward Peers envy our Mafter's
Fortune.

Some of 'em have been faulty against the Queen, For which they were forbid the Royal Prefence, And with a Sullennefs withdrew from Court. What brings 'em hither now is worth Enquiry: Unfent for I am fure they did not come;

For Mortimer and they, like jarring Elements,
Have conftant Enmity, and muft keep Distance.
Nevill. I wifh it bodes not ill to th' common
Caufe-

But what this feafting--what has that produc'd?
Has it encreas'd the Number of our Friends?
Turr. Not all the high fpic'd Viands there pre-
par'd,

Nor yet the oft-fill'd Goblet aught avail'd.
They stood it out to th' laft; and faid, as far
As Juftice went, they'd vote his Will---No farther.
Nevill. Then, this is not a time to tell our Tale?
Turr. He must be told-Our fafety is con-
cern'd.

SCENE changes to another Apartment. Enter Mortimer and Serj. Eitherfide with a Paper. He mumbles it-Eyes Mortimer, and at laft Speaks the fuppofed End.

Serj. Formal Process,

Let Mountacute be difpatch'd, fay you? ha!

murder'd!

Mort. Why do you hefitate? I fay, difpatch'd: Are you fo fqueamish you can't digeft the Term? Serj. No, my Lord, not I; but wou'd not lodg ing him in a Jail for his Life ferve as well?

Mort. Away, Trifler-do you make fcruple? let me but hear another Syllable that contradicts what I've decreed, and thou art loft for ever I will diveft thee of thy Lordship, expofe thee as a Sacrifice to the Rabble, and how they'll use thee, thy Confcience beft can tell.

Seri.

Serj. The Devil's in him, I must submitI have run my felf like Thieves, fo far into ill Company, that now I would reform, my Affociates won't let me. [Afide.] My Lord, I befeech you be not angry: I did this only to found the Depth of your Lordship's Intentions; and fince you are refolv'd, he fhall be Difpatch'd-Murder'd- -any Thing.

Mort. 'Tis well-about it then.

Serj. I was born to ferve your Honour. I will retrieve your Favour. tho' it be by turning Executioner myself, and will trufs up your Enemies with as little Regret, as a Farmer does the Moles that moleft his Ground-It fhall be done, my Lord.

[Exit. Mort. This Fellow came from Proteus, the Camelion changes not faster.- -How now! Your Bufinefs?

Enter Turrington and Nevill.

Tur. 'Tis of Importance, ftand upon your guard; For Berkley, Exeter, and many others,

Who not long fince were banifh'd from the Court, Are now with Edward close lock'd up with Him. Mort, Ha!

Nevill. By Heavens, 'tis truewe faw 'em

enter.

We wou'd have follow'd 'em but were deny'd;
Nay, order'd to retire-and the Out-Courts
Are fill'd with rough-hew'd Slaves, who guard the
Lords.

Mort. Withdraw to my Apartment

come prefently.

-I'll

[Exe. Tur. and Nev. How's this? fo cunning, Boy? Damnation!

Are ye upon the Catch, my Politicians?

That Exeter's the Devil for a Statefinan,

And must be the Guide o'th' Council too, or Nothing.

The fubtle Fiend has left and fought more Parties,

Than all the Cabinet-Pack fhuffled together.

He was for us but faulter'd when he found
E

My

My Intereft greater in the Queen than his.
He had rather been the Foreman of a Jury,
Than fecond in the Council of four hundred.
Why he and Berkley ever have been Foes;
Conftantly jealous of each others greatness;
And tho' they both have like each other's Meafures,
Still Contradiction was their practifed fpight.
But in this Caufe, 'tis probable they'll join;
And to fecure it give their Spleen Ceflation.
What's to be thought on?

Enter Queen.

Queen. What always mufing? ever Melancholy?
Beware of the Infection; none fo wretched
As thofe poffeffed of Jealoufy and Doubts
Mort. But, Madam, mine's a Subject calls for
thought:

No vain Chimæra, but a juft Occafion:
Nevill and Turrington have brought Advice,
And I am forry I muft tell it you.

Those fawcy Peers, who vilify'd your Crown,
Not fparing Cenfure of your private Actions,
Are giving vile Inftructions to your
Son;

Learning the pliant Youth how he may ihake
The Fetters of Obedience off betimes,
While eagerly he liftens to the Charm,
And fimiles to hear himself saluted King-
Queen. Is it poffible?

Mort. You be the judge; for you it moft con

cerns.

Since Mountacute has whistled to this Sterlin,
All his Apartments have been clofely kept,
New Waiters plac'd, thofe you affign'd difcharg'd,
Left they might do their Duty, and inform.
Tell me, my Royal Miftrefs, can you bear
The Hand of Limitation and Controul?
Can you with eafe refign the glorious Throne,
Into the Hands of Exeter and Berkley?
Queen. Diftraction is in the Thought!

Mort. Can fhe obey, who always did command?
Can fhe retire, who ever liv'd in fplendor;
Nay,thought the World too fcanty for herGreatnefs,
Accept

Accept a private Penfion, fmall Attendance,
And live by him whofe Soul from her's took being?
Whilft I muft to their long grown Malice bow,
Or die, or live on infamous Conditions.

Nay blush not, Madam, this must all be done,
And more, when these be Edward's Governors.
Queen That never fhall be, and Ifabella living:
Be thou as once, when Spencer, Gaveston,
The Minions of my Husband, did attempt
To curb my Will, and I defy'd them all:
No Mortimer, if I could give him Death,
Thinkeft thou this feeble Spawn, his flender Off-
spring,

Bred when I wished a Barrennefs upon me,
That he shall baulk the Measures of my Soul?
Mort. She fires

[Afide. Queen. Can the froward Chit believe, because my Son,

I'd ftill him with a Play-thing called a Crown,
And live myself on Curtefy of State,

The Fragments of the Grandeur I had left?
Perish ten Sons are fuch a Fit poffefs me!

Mort. There spoke a Queen; this is true Majefty.
Appear, and like the Planet of the Day,
Difperfe the fullen Fogs that croud you Luftre.
Since Mountacute and Holland, Exeter and the reft
Have foared, like Icarus, beyond their Bounds,
Their waxen Wings fhall melt in thy bright Beams,
And find in Floods Rewards for their Ambition.
Queen. They fall, my Mortimer; they fink for

ever.

I will visit strait thefe clofe Confpirators,
Who think themselves fo hufhed in their Defigns:
As for this Rebel-Son, he is a Disease,
And I will plunge the Venom from my Blood,
As if a Leprocy had compaffed me:
I will have no Competitors in Power.
If in the Father's time I rul'd alone,
I'll never yield that Honour to the Son:
Hard fhall he tug if he will have the sway;
And if at laft 'tis fore'd and rack'd away,