DEATH OF EDWARD THE SECOND.

The king is imprisoned in Berkeley Castle by order of Queen Isabella and Mortimer.

Enter MATREVIS and GURNEY, keepers of the king.

Mat. Gurney, I wonder that the king dies not,
Being in a vault up to the knees in water,
To which the channels of the castle run,
From whence a damp continually ariseth,
That were enough to poison any man,
Much more a king, brought up so tenderly.
Gur. And so do I, Matrevis; yester-night
I op'ned but the door to throw him meat,
And I was almost stifled with the savour.

Mat. He hath a body able to endure
More than we can inflict; and therefore now
Let us assail his mind another while.

Gur. Send for him out thence, and I'll anger him.
Mat. But stay, who's this?

Enter LIGHTBORN.

Light. My Lord Protector greets you.

Know you this token? I must have the king.

Mat. Ay, stay awhile, thou shalt have answer straight.

This villain's sent to make away the king.

[Aside.

Let him have the king.

Gur. I thought as much.
Mat.
What else? here are the keys, this is the lake,
Do as you are commanded by my lord.

Light. I know what I must do; get you away,
Yet be not far off, I shall need your help;
See that in the next room I have a fire,

And get me a spit, and let it be red-hot.
Gur. Here is a light

To go into the dungeon.

Light. So now,

[Gives light, and exit with MATREVIS.

Must I about this gear; ne'er was there any

So finely handled as this king shall be.

Foh! here's a place indeed, with all my heart!

Edw. Who's there? What light's that? Wherefore com'st thou ?

Light. To comfort you and bring you joyful news.

Edw. Small comfort finds poor Edward in thy looks. Villain! I know thou com'st to murder me.

Light. To murder you, my most gracious lord!
Far is it from my heart to do you harm.

The queen sent me to see how you were used,
For she relents at this your misery;

And what eyes can refrain from shedding tears
To see a king in this most piteous state?

Edw. Weep'st thou already? list awhile to me,
And then thy heart, were it as Gurney's is,
Or as Matrevis', hewn from the Caucasus,
Yet it will melt, ere I have done my tale.
This dungeon where they keep me is the sink
Wherein the filth of all the castle falls.
Light. O villains!

Edw. And there, in mire and puddle have I stood
This ten days' space; and lest that I should sleep,
One plays continually upon a drum.

They give me bread and water, being a king;
So that, for want of sleep and sustenance,
My mind's distempered and my body's numb'd,
And whether I have limbs or no I know not.
Oh, would my blood dropt out from every vein,
As doth this water from my tatter'd robes.

Tell Isabel, the queen, I lookt not thus

When for her sake I ran at tilt in France,

And there unhorsed the Duke of Cleremont.

Light. O speak no more, my lord! this breaks my heart. Lie on this bed and rest yourself awhile.

Edw. These looks of thine can harbour nought but death: I see my tragedy written in thy brows.

Yet stay; awhile forbear thy bloody hand,

And let me see the stroke before it comes,

That even then, when I shall lose my life,

My mind may be more steadfast on my God.

Light. What means your highness to mistrust me thus? Edw. What mean'st thou to dissemble with me thus ? Light. These hands were never stain'd with innocent blood,

Nor shall they now be tainted with a king's.

Edw. Forgive my fault for having such a thought. One jewel have I left, receive thou this.

[Giving jewel.

Still fear I, and I know not what's the cause;
But every joint shakes as I give it thee.
Oh, if thou harbour'st murder in thy heart,
Let this gift change thy mind and save thy soul!
Know that I am a king; oh, at that name

I feel a hell of grief; where is my crown?
Gone, gone; and do I still remain alive?

Light. You're over-watcht, my lord; lie down and rest.
Edw. But that grief keeps me waking, I should sleep
For not these ten days have these eyelids closed.
Now as I speak they fall, and yet with fear
Open again. O wherefore sit'st thou here?

Light. If you mistrust me, I'll be gone, my lord. Edw. No, no; for if thou mean'st to murder me, Thou wilt return again, and therefore stay.

Light. He sleeps.

Edw. (awakes) Oh!

Let me not die yet; stay, oh stay awhile!
Light. How now, my lord?

Edw. Something still buzzes in mine ears,
And tells me if I sleep I never wake;
This fear is that which makes me tremble thus,
And therefore tell me, wherefore art thou come.
Light. To rid thee of thy life. Matrevis, come.

[Sleeps.

Enter MATREVIS and GURNEY, keepers of the king.
Edw. I am too weak and feeble to resist;
Assist me, sweet God, and receive my soul!

[The king is murdered.

BANNOCKBURN.

AFTER the death of Edward the First, the English hold on Scotland was gradually relaxed. Linlithgow, Roxburgh, Edinburgh, and Perth had been taken by Bruce; when, to save Stirling, which was sorely beset, Edward marched northward with 100,000 men.

Bruce could scarcely muster 40,000 troops, but he studied how he might supply, by address and stratagem, what he wanted in numbers and strength. He knew the superiority of the English both in their heavy-armed cavalry and in their archers; but these advantages he resolved to provide against.

With this object in view, he led his army down to a plain near Stirling, called the Park, across which the English must needs pass through a boggy country, broken with water-courses, while the Scots occupied hard, dry ground.

He then caused a large space in the front of his line of battle, where cavalry were likely to act, to be dug full of holes, about as deep as a man's knee. These holes were then filled with light brushwood, and the turf having been replaced, the whole had the appearance of a smooth field. He also caused steel spikes to be scattered up and down the plain where the English cavalry would probably advance, trusting in that manner to lame and destroy their horses.

The Scottish army was then drawn up in a line stretching north and south. On the south, it was terminated by a brook called Bannockburn, whose

banks were so rocky that no troops could attack them from that quarter. On the left, the Scottish line extended near to the town of Stirling.

When his army was thus placed in order, the king sent James Douglas and Sir Robert Keith to survey the English force, which was now approaching from Falkirk. On their return, they informed Bruce that the appearance of that vast host was one of the most beautiful and terrible sights which could be seen,-that the whole country seemed covered with men-at-arms on horse and foot; while the number of standards, banners, and pennons, made so gallant a show, that the bravest and most numerous host in Christendom might be alarmed to see King Edward moving against them. On the 23rd of June, 1314, the English drew near to Stirling; and when a number of their bravest knights approached the Scottish lines, they saw King Robert in the front of his army, dressed in armour, and distinguished by a gold crown, which he wore over his helmet. He was not mounted on his great war-horse, because he did not expect to fight that evening; but he rode up and down the ranks on a pony, and carried a battle-axe in his hand; and when he saw the enemy approach, he advanced a little before his own men that he might look at them more closely.

T

Now there was a knight among the English called Sir Henry de Bohun, who thought to gain great fame to himself, and put an end to the war, by killing King Robert; so the king being poorly mounted, and having no lance, Bohun galloped up