_First Lord._ Fear not, my lord; know that you are a king. _K. Edw. Third._ Villain!-- _Y. Mor._ Ho, now, my lord! _K. Edw. Third._ Think not that I am frighted with thy words: My father's murder'd through thy treachery; And thou shalt die, and on his mournful hearse Thy hateful and accursed head shall lie, To witness to the world that by thy means His kingly body was too soon interr'd. _Q. Isab._ Weep not, sweet son. _K. Edw. Third._ Forbid not me to weep; he was my father; And had you lov'd him half so well as I, You could not bear his death thus patiently: But you, I fear, conspir'd with Mortimer. _First Lord._ Why speak you not unto my lord the king? _Y. Mor._ Because I think scorn to be accus'd. Who is the man dares say I murder'd him? _K. Edw. Third._ Traitor, in me my loving father speaks, And plainly saith, 'twas thou that murder'dst him. _Y. Mor._ But hath your grace no other proof than this? _K. Edw. Third._ Yes, if this be the hand of Mortimer. [_Showing letter._ _Y. Mor._ False Gurney hath betray'd me and himself. [_Aside to Queen Isabella._ _Q. Isab._ I fear'd as much: murder can not be hid. _Y. Mor._ It is my hand; what gather you by this? _K. Edw. Third._ That thither thou didst send a murderer. _Y. Mor._ What murderer? bring forth the man I sent. _K. Edw. Third._ Ah, Mortimer, thou know'st that he is slain! And so shalt thou be too.--Why stays he here? Bring him unto a hurdle, drag him forth; Hang him, I say, and set his quarters up: And bring his head back presently to me. _Q. Isab._ For my sake, sweet son, pity Mortimer! _Y. Mor._ Madam, entreat not: I will rather die Than sue for life unto a paltry boy. _K. Edw. Third._ Hence with the traitor, with the murderer! _Y. Mor._ Base Fortune, now I see, that in thy wheel There is a point, to which when men aspire, They tumble headlong down: that point I touch'd, And, seeing there was no place to mount up higher, Why should I grieve at my declining fall?-- Farewell, fair queen: weep not for Mortimer, That scorns the world, and, as a traveller, Goes to discover countries yet unknown. _K. Edw. Third._ What, suffer you the traitor to delay? [_Exit the younger Mortimer with First Lord and some of the Attendants._ _Q. Isab._ As thou receivest thy life from me, Spill not the blood of gentle Mortimer! _K. Edw. Third._ This argues that you spilt my father's blood, Else would you not entreat for Mortimer. _Q. Isab._ I spill his blood! no. _K. Edw. Third._ Ay, madam, you; for so the rumour runs. _Q. Isab._ That rumour is untrue: for loving thee, Is this report rais'd on poor Isabel. _K. Edw. Third._ I do not think her so unnatural. _Sec. Lord._ My lord, I fear me it will prove too true. _K. Edw. Third._ Mother, you are suspected for his death