Edw._ Go, take that haughty Mortimer to the Tower; There see him safe bestow'd; and, for the rest, Do speedy execution on them all. Be gone! _Y. Mor._ What, Mortimer, can ragged stony walls Immure thy virtue that aspires to heaven? No, Edward, England's scourge, it may not be; Mortimer's hope surmounts his fortune far. [_The captive Barons are led off._ _K. Edw._ Sound, drums and trumpets! March with me, my friends. Edward this day hath crown'd him king anew. [_Exeunt all except the younger Spenser, Levune and Baldock._ _Y. Spen._ Levune, the trust that we repose in thee Begets the quiet of King Edward's land: Therefore be gone in haste, and with advice Bestow that treasure on the lords of France, That, therewith all enchanted, like the guard That suffer'd Jove to pass in showers of gold To Danae, all aid may be denied To Isabel the queen, that now in France Makes friends, to cross the seas with her young son, And step into his father's regiment. _Levune._ That's it these barons and the subtle queen Long levell'd at. _Bal._ Yea, but, Levune, thou seest, These barons lay their heads on blocks together: What they intend, the hangman frustrates clean. _Levune._ Have you no doubt, my lords, I'll clap so close Among the lords of France with England's gold, That Isabel shall make her plaints in vain, And France shall be obdurate with her tears. _Y. Spen._ Then make for France amain; Levune, away! Proclaim King Edward's wars and victories. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ KENT. _Kent._ Fair blows the wind for France: blow, gentle gale, Till Edmund be arriv'd for England's good! Nature, yield to my country's cause in this! A brother? no, a butcher of thy friends! Proud Edward, dost thou banish me thy presence? But I'll to France, and cheer the wronged queen, And certify what Edward's looseness is. Unnatural king, to slaughter nobleman And cherish flatterers! Mortimer, I stay Thy sweet escape. Stand gracious, gloomy night, To his device! _Enter the younger_ MORTIMER _disguised._ _Y. Mor._ Holla! who walketh there? Is't you, my lord? _Kent._ Mortimer, 'tis I. But hath thy portion wrought so happily? _Y. Mor._ It hath, my lord: the warders all asleep, I thank them, gave me leave to pass in peace. But hath your grace got shipping unto France? _Kent._ Fear it not. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ QUEEN ISABELLA _and_ PRINCE EDWARD.