[SCENE XVII.]

Enter L LUELLEN running out before, and D AVID with a halter ready to hang himself .

Lluellen. The angry heavens frown'd on Britain's face
To eclipse the glory of fair Cambria:
With sour aspects the dreadful planets lower.
Lluellen, basely turn thy back and fly?
No, Welshmen fight it to the last and die;
For if my men safely have got the bride,
Careless of chance I'll reck no sour event.
England's broad womb hath not that armed band
That can expel Lluellen from his land.

Enter D AVID .

Sir David . Fly, Lord of Cambria! fly, Prince of Wales!
Sweet brother, fly! the field is won and lost:
Thou art beset with England's furious troops,
And cursed Mortimer, like a lion, leads.
Our men have got the bride, but all in vain:
The Englishmen are come upon our backs.
Either flee or die, for Edward hath the day.
For me, I have my rescue in my hand:
England on me no torments shall inflict.
Farewell, Lluellen, while we meet in heaven.

Enter Soldiers.

[ First Soldier. ] Follow, pursue! — Lie there, whate'er thou be.
Yet soft, my hearts! let us his countenance see.
This is the prince; I know him by his face:
O gracious fortune, that me happy made
To spoil the weed that chokes fair Cambria!
Hale him from hence, and in this busky wood
Bury his corpse; but for his head, I vowed
I will present our governor with the same.