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Mortimer had been captured and then set free by Edward to tell others
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Start:
ANNE (alone) : Since Edward of England, not hearing either prayer
Or urgent appeal, drove me to Mortimer
The cold of heart, I'll put on widow's weeds.
Four times I let my hair be spat upon
By him, and I preferred to stand bareheaded
Beneath the sky, not veiled as now.
[... � …]
End:
MORTIMER: Heap earth on Edward of England!
ANNE: Heap earth upon Edward Gloster!
MORTIMER: Now: to Scotland!
ANNE: Woe to us, Mortimer! There now shall be
A war that hurls this island in the sea!
Bertolt Brecht, Edward II, Trans. Eric Bentley. Grove Press, 1966. pp. 44-46
New York Times:
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