Of geography? Could you show England
To a man who knows it all too little?
In all directions?
ELDER GURNEY:
So we should lead him round about?
MORTIMER:
And specially where there’s no sun nor men.
ELDER GURNEY:
Good, my lord, we are the men for that.
ANNE:
Ale! Ale! Jonah sat and waited
For the promised overthrow of Nineveh
But in those days God came that way
No more and Nineveh fell not. Now
I have richly eaten and am full of food
And I can eat more now than in the time
When I was growing. Are you learned still
In metaphysics, Earl Mortimer?
MORTIMER:
There are, to be sure, men who talk
From morn till night.
YOUNGER GURNEY:
We are other men than that.
MORTIMER:
Have you ever read a Chronicle?
ELDER GURNEY:
No. No.
MORTIMER:
‘Tis good.
Exeunt the two Gurneys.
MORTIMER:
We hold an old wolf by the ear
That if he slip will seize upon us both.
ANNE:
Do you sleep badly? See something white at night?
Often? They are sheets, Mortimer, nothing else.
It comes from the stomach.
MORTIMER:
At his name the Commons turn to water.
ANNE:
He of whom it seems you speak, is silent.
MORTIMER:
Since he is obdurate and will not speak
Lies with lies must be o’erlain.
ANNE:
Business! Business! The days fly too slow
For me in Westminster and too many.
MORTIMER:
Husband’s murder comes soon after father’s murder
In the catechism.
ANNE:
You’ve an indulgence.
MORTIMER:
With knees wide and closed eyes
Catching at anything, you are insatiable, Anne.
You eat in your sleep and talk in sleep
Of things shall kill me.
ANNE:
I sleep, you say. How do you wake me?
MORTIMER:
With Westminster bells and grinding teeth
And in despite of these incredulous lords
You should crown your son in haste.
ANNE:
Not my son, I pray you!
Not this child, suckled by a she-wolf’s milk
In weeks when she was wandering, dragged
Through bogs and hills in dark Scotland
Not this child
Too much night upon his lids to look up guiltless
Entangled in the filthy net with which you fish.
MORTIMER:
Dragging a little burden from
An age-old slimy pond, always
Though weary in the flesh, I see hanging from it
Human weed. More and more.
Hoisting myself up I feel ever a new
Weight.
And from the knees of the last another
Last. Human coils.
And at the moving wheel of this pulley block
Of human coils, breathless, lugging at them all
Myself.
ANNE:
Name the faces of those human weeds.
My husband Edward? My son Edward?
MORTIMER:
Yours.
ANNE:
Often I feared that these tired arms
With which I held a man upright perforce
Must yield, but now I know, when age
Has mingled weariness in my veins’ flow
My outstretched arms are but a crude pretence
A vain machine that grabs – naught else
Remains. Roger Mortimer, I am
Tired and old.
Enter Young Edward.
MORTIMER:
Hook your dress up, Anne, so your son
See not tear-stained flesh.
YOUNG EDWARD:
Take this intruder, mother, from our sight.
We would have talk with you.
ANNE:
Earl Mortimer, child, is thy mother’s prop.
YOUNG EDWARD:
I pray you for news of my father Edward.
ANNE:
If thy mother, child, hung on thy poor lips
This most fearful choice, say, wouldst thou
Go with her unto the Tower if by
Thy answer’s colour the dice so fell?
Young Edward is silent.
MORTIMER:
You show wise caution, Edward.
YOUNG EDWARD:
You should drink less, mother.
Anne laughs.
Exit Young Edward.
MORTIMER:
Why do you laugh?
Anne is silent.
MORTIMER:
So prepare we in haste the boy’s crowning.
For this our business wears another face
When a king’s name is underwrit.
ANNE:
What has or ever will befall –
If Heaven will pardon it or no –
Your blood I’ve tasted and will not let you go
Till all this crack.
Meanwhile write, underwrite, decree
As you think fit. I will seal it for you sure.
She laughs.
MORTIMER:
Why do you laugh a second time?
ANNE:
I laugh for the world’s emptiness.
Highway
KENT alone:
Berkeley is dead and Edward disappeared.
And Mortimer, in London, ever bolder, claims
In Berkeley’s hearing Edward resigned the crown.
The light is murky now for us, Edward Longshanks’
Sons. Already there’s a sign the sky will brighten.
The Commons were in uproar, clamoured
To be told the prisoner’s whereabouts
And many called him poor Edward.
In Wales the people murmured against the butcher Mortimer.
Perchance now only crows and ravens
Know where lies Edward of England.
And I had hopes my rue came not too late!
Who is that poor man there mid pikes and lances?
Enter Edward, the two Gurneys, soldiers.
YOUNGER GURNEY:
Holà. Who comes there?
ELDER GURNEY:
Guard the King sure; it is his brother, Kent.
EDWARD:
O gentle brother, help to rescue me!
ELDER GURNEY:
Keep them asunder! Away with the prisoner!
KENT:
Soldiers, let me but talk to him one word.
YOUNGER GURNEY:
Stop up his mouth!
ELDER GURNEY:
Throw him in the ditch!
Edward is taken out.
KENT alone:
Edward, hast resigned? Edward! Edward!
Woe to us!
They drag England’s king away like a calf.
3 DECEMBER 1325: THE MIGHTY EARL ROGER MORTIMER IS TAKEN TO TASK FOR THE KING’S DISAPPEARANCE
Westminster
Mortimer, Queen, Lord Abbot, Rice ap Howell.
ABBOT:
My Lord, like to a canker grows the rumour
Edward has not resigned.
MORTIMER:
At Berkeley, in Robert Berkeley’s hearing
Edward the Second resigned, unforced.
ABBOT:
In my hearing, at Shrewsbury, clearly
Edward cried: No.
RICE AP HOWELL:
And thus often to me.
ABBOT:
It were good if this Berkeley
Could testify on oat
h before the Commons
How and ’fore whom Edward put away the crown.
MORTIMER:
Today I have news from Lord Berkeley
That he is on his way to London.
RICE AP HOWELL:
And where is the king?
MORTIMER:
At Berkeley, where else? Too much knowledge, Rice ap Howell
Dulls the appetite. Since I set aside
Books and learning I sleep better and digest.
RICE AP HOWELL:
Yes, but where is Edward?
MORTIMER:
I know nothing of your Edward, I love
Him not nor hate, he comes not
In my dreams. For things concerning him
Turn to Berkeley, not to me! Yourself, Winchester
Were against him.
ABBOT:
The Church was, with whom God was.
MORTIMER:
With whom was God?
ABBOT:
With him who conquered, Mortimer.
Enter Kent with Young Edward.
KENT:
We hear my brother
Is no more at Shrewsbury.
MORTIMER:
Your brother is at Berkeley, Edmund.
KENT:
We hear he is no more at Berkeley either.
MORTIMER:
Since Harwich rumours grow like
Mildew in the rain.
ANNE:
Come to thy mother, child.
MORTIMER:
How fares my honourable Lord of Kent?
KENT:
In health, sweet Mortimer. And you
My lady?
ANNE:
Well, Kent. Times are good for me and I
Am quite content. This past week I was
Fishing in Tynemouth.
MORTIMER:
To have gone fishing years ago at Tynemouth
Truly would have done a certain man
No harm.
ANNE:
Go fishing at Tynemouth next week with me, Kent.
MORTIMER aside:
You eat too much and do not chew, Anne.
ANNE aside:
I eat, I drink, I love with you.
ABBOT:
What were you saying, my Lord of Berkeley?
MORTIMER to Kent:
You were missed in London for three weeks.
KENT:
I rode across the mangled countryside
And meditated on my brother’s tracks.
YOUNG EDWARD:
Mother, persuade me not to wear the crown
I’ll not do it.
ANNE:
You should be pleased. The Barons wish it.
MORTIMER:
London wills it.
YOUNG EDWARD:
Let me speak with my father first
And then I will.
KENT:
That’s a good answer, Ned.
ANNE:
Brother, you know it is impossible.
YOUNG EDWARD:
Is he dead?
KENT:
London says many things.
You must have knowledge, Roger Mortimer.
MORTIMER:
I? In Little Street at brightest noon
Five sharks were seen to go into a tavern
Take ale, and then, a little merry
To kneel in Westminster Abbey.
Laughter.
KENT:
They prayed, sure, for Berkeley’s soul.
MORTIMER:
Inconstant Edmund, dost thou favour him
Who wast the cause of his imprisonment?
KENT:
The more cause now to make amends.
YOUNG EDWARD:
Aye aye!
KENT:
Ned, I counsel thee, be not wheedled
Take not the crown from thy father’s head.
YOUNG EDWARD:
Indeed I will not.
RICE AP HOWELL:
He will not, Edward.
MORTIMER
takes Young Edward and drags him to his mother:
My Lady, signify to your son Edward
It is not England’s wont to suffer
Contradiction.
YOUNG EDWARD:
Help, Uncle Kent. Mortimer will wrong me.
KENT:
Hands off England’s royal blood!
ABBOT:
Would you really crown him in this bedlam?
MORTIMER:
So says the law.
RICE AP HOWELL:
So says your desire.
ABBOT:
Therefore I ask you by the law
In the presence of that man’s brother, son, wife:
Has King Edward resigned?
MORTIMER:
Aye.
ABBOT:
Your witness?
MORTIMER:
Robert Berkeley.
KENT:
Who is dead.
RICE AP HOWELL:
Berkeley is dead?
KENT:
These seven days.
RICE AP HOWELL:
Said you not that you had news this very day
He was on his way to London?
ABBOT:
Since your witness, Lord Mortimer, is out this world
Be it these two or seven days
With your consent ride I to Berkeley
To bring a little light.
KENT:
At Berkeley you’ll find blood upon the stones
But not the king.
RICE AP HOWELL:
Did you not say the king was at Berkeley?
MORTIMER:
And so I thought. Times pressed us hard.
In Wales the rebels gave us scarce a moment’s
Breath. With greater leisure and
More opportune time much will be
Made clear.
ABBOT:
Thus is your first witness, Berkeley, dead
And your second, Edward, disappeared.
MORTIMER:
If I must fish through all the isle
With nets I shall
Uncover witnesses.
KENT:
First fish through your army, Mortimer.
I saw my brother among pikes and lances
Driven down the highway by a rout.
ABBOT:
Spoke your brother to you?
KENT:
His mouth
Was gagged. What think you, Archbishop
His lips had testified an they were able?
MORTIMER:
Wilt thou pretend that he has not resigned?
Strike off his head! He shall have martial law.
EDWARD:
My lord, he is my uncle and shall live.
MORTIMER:
My lord, he is your enemy and shall die.
KENT:
Wouldst have my head then, butcher Mortimer?
Where is the head of Edward Longshanks’
Firstborn son?
ABBOT:
The man is not at Berkeley nor at Shrewsbury.
Where is the man today, Roger Mortimer?
EDWARD:
Mother, permit him not to kill our Uncle
Kent!
ANNE:
Ask me not, child, I dare not speak a word.
KENT:
Plead you with the murderer for the murdered?
Seek in the Thames, seek in the Scottish pines
The resting place of him who found no refuge
Because his teeth held back that yes
You so desired.
RICE AP HOWELL:
Where is the man today, Roger Mortimer?
ABBOT:
Has he resigned?
MORTIMER:
Call the Commons for the eleventh of February.
Before them with his own lips Edward will
Affirm his abdication. And I
Reaping mistrust where I sowed thanks
Prepared to bring my heart
and every hour
Lived out in Westminster before God’s judgement
Relinquishing my office in your hands
O Queen, repairing to my books
Which I, my only true friends, bartered
Years ago for war’s discomforts and the world’s
Ill-will, I make charge before the Peers and you
Against this Kent, Edward Longshanks’ son
Of high treason, and I claim his head.
ABBOT:
You dare greatly.
MORTIMER:
It is for you, my lady.
ANNE:
Thus say I:
Be Edmund Kent banished from London.
KENT to Mortimer:
You shall pay this to the very dregs.
Gladly Kent leaves Westminster
Where he was born and where now
A bull keeps house with his ruttish wife.
ANNE:
You, Earl Mortimer, are still the Lord Protector.
ABBOT:
And I summon the Commons for the eleventh of February.
That by what Edward himself shall say
The naked truth be made as clear as day.
Exeunt all save Mortimer.
MORTIMER alone, brings in the two Gurneys:
You’ll make your man say aye
To every question. Engrave it on him.
But the eleventh of February be in London.
You have full power. He must say aye.
AFTER FOURTEEN YEARS ABSENCE KING EDWARD SEES THE CITY OF LONDON ONCE AGAIN.
Before London
Edward. The two Gurneys.
ELDER GURNEY:
My lord, look not so pensive.
EDWARD:
Since you are come, each time that night falls
You lead me over land. Where must I go now?
Go not so fast. I have not eaten and
I am all weak, my hair falls out, my
Senses swoon from my body’s stench.
YOUNGER GURNEY:
Are you in such good humour, sire?
EDWARD:
Aye.
ELDER GURNEY:
We come now to a great city.
Will it content you to see the Eel?
EDWARD:
Aye.
YOUNGER GURNEY:
Are those not willows there, sire?
EDWARD:
Aye.
ELDER GURNEY:
The Eel likes not men to visit him
Half washed. Here is channel water.
Sit down, I pray, that we may barber you.
EDWARD:
Not with puddle water!
YOUNGER GURNEY:
So you would have us barber you with
Puddle water?
They barber him with ditch water.
ELDER GURNEY:
The nights are beginning to draw in.
YOUNGER GURNEY:
Tomorrow is the eleventh of February.
ELDER GURNEY:
Was it not a certain Gaveston
That brought you to this pass?
EDWARD:
Aye. This Gaveston I do remember well.
YOUNGER GURNEY:
Hold still!
ELDER GURNEY:
Will you do everything we bid you?
EDWARD:
Aye. Is this London?
Bertolt Brecht: Mutter Courage und ihre Kinder 1 Page 24
