**% 
 
 ■V ... ~-fe «s 
 
 °o /^/t 0°* 
 
 &XS2&J/A o °Jp V" « 
 
 »,' "ft. C 
 
 
 r "ft 
 
 "V.4 
 

 
 
 x* ^Va\V./ ( 
 
 
 
 V**v V™/ v™> 
 
\J 
 
 MARLOWE'S 
 EDWARD THE SECOND 
 
 \ -^ 
 
 AND SELECTIONS FROM 
 
 TAMBURLAINE and the POEMS 
 
 EDITED WITH 
 
 NOTES AND INTRODUCTORY ESSAY 
 
 edward t. Mclaughlin 
 
 Professor of Rhetoric and Belles Lettres in Yale University 
 
 **MAY 9 1394 J 
 
 WA*H\*> 
 
 /*7^2 
 
 / 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 1894 
 
 
.Aife 
 
 Copyright, 1894, 
 
 ny 
 
 HENRY HOLT & CO. 
 
 n - Us-o 
 
 THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS, 
 RAHWAY, N. J. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 V 
 
 Introduction, ... 
 
 Edward the Second, ..... i 
 
 Selections from Tamburlaine the Great, . .117 
 
 The Passionate Shepherd to His Love, . . 136 
 
 Selections from Hero and Leander, . . .137 
 
 Notes, ....... 143 
 
NOTE. 
 
 The text of this edition is that of Dyce, with a number of 
 amended readings. 
 
 The ten acts of Tamburlaine are not sufficiently important 
 for ordinary students, and the usual objection to selections from 
 a drama does not apply to a play without a plot or development 
 of character. Therefore, only the last passages of Marlowe's 
 first work are given here ; from their nature they lose little, if 
 at all, by detachment. 
 
 Such words and allusions as seem likely to be misunderstood, 
 are explained in the notes. Various points of literary interest 
 are also suggested, that might escape the attention of unpractised 
 readers. These notes are placed by themselves at the end of the 
 text, where they will not distract the attention of those who do 
 not read them. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 i. 
 
 Christopher Marlowe, the son of a shoemaker, 
 was born in Canterbury, toward the close of February, 
 1564. He was thus two months older than Shake- 
 speare. The King's School in his native place afforded 
 him a preparation for Cambridge, where he received 
 his first degree in 1583. Little is known of his life. 
 According to a ballad he became an actor at the 
 Curtain, one of the original London theatres. He 
 belonged to the literary circle in which Greene, 
 Peele, and Nash were prominent, and attracted 
 unfavorable attention by skepticism in matters of 
 religion. He seems to have been esteemed for liter- 
 ary culture as well as for poetry, among the writers of 
 his time, but to have secured little reputation for per- 
 sonal character. He met his death at the end of 
 May, 1593, in a dissipated quarrel. 
 
 His first tragedy, Tamburlaine the Great, was prob- 
 ably composed early in 1587. It was soon followed 
 by the short play of Dr. Fanstus, a medley of comedy, 
 excerpts from the Faust-book, and some magnificent 
 passages of verse. The Jew of Malta, interesting to 
 the literary student for many reasons, and more dra- 
 matic than its predecessors, probably preceded Ediuard 
 II., which appeared about 1590. Two fragmentary 
 
vi n INTRODUCTION. 
 
 dramas of slight merit, some translations from Ovid 
 and Lucan, the two first sestiads of Hero and Leander, 
 and two or three lyrical pieces constitute the remain- 
 der of Marlowe's literary work. 
 
 The spirit of the age, which directs the character of 
 a generation's active men, guided the literary genius 
 of the later Elizabethans into the drama. Upon 
 Marlowe, a man surely at one with his generation, 
 dawned, while he was still a youth, the opportunity of 
 creating a national theatre, that should be at once 
 popular and poetical. Whereupon, with the co-opera- 
 tion of a little group of educated and ambitious poets, 
 he instituted one of the most influential movements in 
 all England's literary history. The national taste for 
 stage entertainments was already pronounced before 
 the second half of Elizabeth's reign. The miracle 
 plays had long been fostering it. The moralities, 
 which had grown out of these, by their more studied 
 characterization had carried forward the dramatic art, 
 clumsy and heavy though their abstract figures were. 
 The strolling players, whose best theatre was the 
 court of an inn, had enlivened and diversified the 
 earlier and more formal acting with farcical comedy 
 scenes, or sensational treatment of tales of crime and 
 sentiment. At last, theatres had been erected, close 
 to the London city limits, and their declamatory and 
 rude performances were increasingly regarded. Side 
 by side with the plays of the masses, the cultivated 
 class w r ere conducting a laborious drama at court, in 
 the houses of the nobility, in the lawyers' halls, and 
 in the universities, under the influence of Italian and 
 
INTRODUCTION. ix 
 
 French predecessors, and based upon classical models. 
 Such tragedy and comedy as Ferrex and P or rex and 
 Ralph Roister Doister are incidents in the English 
 renaissance ; attempts to impart new modern life to 
 the outworn Plautine and Senecan dramatic forms. 
 While of little interest to us, except as material for 
 tracing the history of this chapter of culture, these 
 early works are sufficiently correct to rank as litera- 
 ture. But the combination of antiquity and their 
 author's apprentice hand is heavy upon them. 
 
 It was for Marlowe and his fellows to realize a suc- 
 cessful blending of these separate histrionic branches ; 
 to employ classical training and tastes, and literary 
 talent, as ministers of beauty and art, while maintain- 
 ing an enlivening and popular treatment of themes 
 appropriate to an audience of the people. This two- 
 fold influence was the salvation of their enterprise. 
 The ambition to please themselves as poets could not 
 lead to classically pedantic imitativeness, for it was 
 coupled with the ambition to make a practical career 
 and a living by pleasing the varied, stormy, impatient, 
 yet imaginatively sensitive and responsive audience 
 of that great generation so alive to the new powers of 
 England, the world, and man. 
 
 The prologue to Tamburlaine has often been quoted, 
 as Marlowe's challenge to the playwrights who until 
 1587 had supplied the public theatres, and his an- 
 nouncement of a formative aim in his own under- 
 takings : 
 
 " From jigging veins of rhyming mother wits, 
 And such conceits as clownage keeps in pay, 
 We'll lead you to the stately tent of war." 
 
X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 To appreciate the style that he disdains, we should 
 really read old stage manuscripts by the run of hack 
 writers which were never printed or preserved. But 
 it is sufficient to turn to more literary plays, such as 
 Camfyses or Damon and Pythias, or Appius and Vir- 
 ginia, for illustrations : 
 
 "Alas, alas ! I do hear tell the king hath killed my son ; 
 If it be so, woe worth the deed that ever it was done." 
 
 "As things by their contraries are always best proved, 
 How happy then are merciful princes, of their people 
 beloved." 
 
 "Well, then, this is my counsel, thus standeth the case, 
 Perhaps such a fetch as may please your grace ; 
 There is no more ways, but hap or hap not, 
 Either hap, or else hapless, to knit up the knot." 
 
 These are ordinary examples of jigging veins of 
 rhyme before the smoother couplet that was employed 
 by the intermediate playwrights had come in, and 
 the phrase " mother wits," no doubt, is a slur upon 
 writers without academic advantages. This little 
 band of university men felt themselves superior to 
 uneducated talent, and one of their sharpest scorns 
 at Shakespeare's early successes, toward the close of 
 their course, seems to have consisted in the knowl- 
 edge that the "upstart crow, beautified with their 
 feathers," was not a poet of the schools. 
 
 By the "conceits that clownage keeps in pay," Mar- 
 lowe doubtless intended to condemn the early theatre's 
 cheap treatment of trivial themes, for which he desired 
 to substitute elevated heroics both of substance and 
 form. It is hardly correct to apply the phrase to that 
 
INTRODUCTION. xi 
 
 humor element which, in violation of the classical 
 example, the romantic dramatists of Spain and Eng- 
 land introduced into their tragedies, and which forms 
 a distinct influence in their superiority to the more con- 
 servative tragedy of Italy and France. Indeed, the 
 publisher's introduction to the edition of Tamburlaine 
 of 1592 explains that " fond and frivolous gestures" 
 were omitted in the printing. From Faustus many 
 similar crudities were not stricken, and they constantly 
 aggravate the sensational plot in the second half of 
 The Jew of Malta. It may well be a question, how- 
 ever, how far these parts belong to Marlowe, or how 
 far they are to be regarded as the work of other, and 
 usually later, writers. His own tastes were probably 
 serious. 
 
 But of the declarations of principle in those first 
 three lines of the Tamburlaine prologue — heroic 
 themes, dignity of treatment, scholarly work, and 
 metre neither trivial nor in rhyme — the last was the 
 most important. As yet, no one had employed blank 
 verse with success. Before the close of the reign of 
 Henry VIII. the Earl of Surrey's translation of two 
 books of Vergil had introduced it. In Ferrex and 
 Porrex (156 1) the new verse had been applied to the 
 courtly drama, and subsequently it formed the metre 
 of other similar plays. All these treatments were stiff 
 and lumbering, for the genius of the movement had 
 not yet been caught. It is Marlowe's highest distinc- 
 tion that he found it out. We may profitably com- 
 pare our own blank verse with the assonance and 
 intertwisted rhyme of the Spanish drama, and the 
 Alexandrines of the French, and observe its minimized 
 
xil INTRODUCTION. 
 
 restriction of form upon expression and its greater 
 resemblance to the sound of real life, at the same time 
 that it affords, through its flexibility, a constantly vary- 
 ing metrical accompaniment, quiet in simple tones, yet 
 with no peer for sublimity and passion. Now that 
 this verse has proved itself the English metre, Mar- 
 lowe's part in its evolution seems nothing wonderful ; 
 evidently it would have been developed soon, though 
 he had missed its secret. Yet no other poet was 
 equally well prepared to teach the new measure. His 
 remarkable faculty in the musical control of words, 
 and his intensity and power, made a creation out of 
 the formerly inert line. His versification, to be sure, 
 marks the experimenter, yet in passages it may rank 
 near the work of his best successors. All the more 
 noteworthy his innovation appears, when we recall his 
 skill in rhyme. One is tempted to say that in Mar- 
 lowe English rhyme finds its most bewitching tones. 
 
 To his dramatic reforms, however, he brought no 
 cold correctness. A temperament such as his felt 
 little congeniality with severe classical repression. 
 Impulses controlled him, and words came but too 
 readily. Especially in his average speeches there is 
 an excess of declamation. Lamb, who gave even 
 undue praise to one scene in Edward II., and who 
 certainly in this quotation pressed to the opposite 
 extreme, declared that he found difficulty "in culling 
 a few sane lines " from Tamburlaine. Impulses indeed 
 controlled him, and splendid sensations. The praise 
 of Drayton holds good ; he " had in him brave trans- 
 lunary things," and 
 
 " That fine madness still he did retain, 
 
 Which rightly should possess a poet's brain." 
 
INTRODUCTION. Xlll 
 
 Had other elements of genius possessed his brain 
 equally, the result would have been less imperfect. 
 We must follow with Sainte-Beuve ; the greatest poets 
 are never a distracted rout, running headlong, as in 
 the chase. <l Nay, tradition tells us, and our own 
 trained nature says it louder still, reason must always 
 control, even among imagination's elect favourites; or 
 if not always controlling, if impulse is allowed sudden 
 sway, reason is never far off, is at hand, smiling, as it 
 awaits the approaching moment of return." It was 
 not without meaning that Marlowe substituted for the 
 wiser ancient allegory, his fancy that Beauty is mother 
 of the Muses. Even in a contrast between his Hero 
 and Leander and the Greek poem which inspired it, 
 while we feel the great superiority of the modern poet 
 as regards genius, we can hardly fail to recognize de- 
 ficiency in those qualities of proportion, selection, 
 artistic reserve, that are suggested by Lamb's phrase — 
 "the sanity of true genius." 
 
 Marlowe is the poet of an era of discovery. He 
 desires to attain, with a superb exhilaration in the 
 thought of acquisition. Tamburlaine must conquer 
 the world, Barabas amasses unlimited wealth, Faustus 
 would exhaust pleasure. He will not afford us the 
 subtle, tender pensiveness that is nowadays expected 
 from poets, nor has he moral strength, or entirely co- 
 herent thought. Mr. William Watson, who not with- 
 out success has made a specialty of literary criticism 
 in verse, has composed a quatrain on Tamburlaine : 
 " Your Marlowe's page I close, my Shakespeare's ope. 
 
 How welcome — after gong and cymbal's din — 
 
 The continuity, the long slow slope 
 
 And vast curves of the gradual violin." 
 
X IV IN TROD UCTION. 
 
 Ah, there is something more than "gong and cymbal's 
 din" in the work that includes those lines on beauty, 
 or those on the soul's restless climbing after knowl- 
 edge. This poet saw ideas as beauty, and in some of 
 his pictures we ourselves yet see them so. He heard 
 ideas in rhythm, and their sound is yet strong and 
 clear. He arouses sensations in us : there is more of 
 the trumpet than of gong and cymbal, when at times 
 he thrills us with the feeling of himself. For even 
 though we never care to imitate his experiences, it is 
 unfortunate to miss the observation of such suscepti- 
 bility to beauty, that is moved by the simple fact of 
 human loveliness ; or the force and energy which are 
 a spectacle in themselves, though they had accom- 
 plished nothing. Marlowe's frequent emptiness of 
 substance and his various defects need not deprive 
 us of magical moments as we read him — unless we are 
 sophisticated. 
 
 Aside from his strength and raptures, he must have 
 had his quiet hours. He is capable of tones calm and 
 pensive. The youth who wrote The Passionate Shep- 
 herd to his Love could do more than declaim, and 
 knew rest as well as rapture of imagination. That 
 line from Faustus, 
 
 44 When I behold the heavens, then I repent," 
 
 shows that he felt the stars ; while another, 
 
 44 All things that move between the quiet poles," 
 
 for its very repression may be counted — with how 
 many more of his lines — among the firmest and most 
 suggestive of Elizabethan poetry. Some of his adjec- 
 
INTRODUCTION. XV 
 
 tives stand for little reveries. There is a suggestive- 
 ness imaginative, and anything but turbulent, in such 
 similes as these : 
 
 " But now, Orcanes, view my royal host, 
 That hides these plains, and seems as vast and wide, 
 As doth the desert of Arabia 
 To those that stand on Bagdet's lofty tower ; 
 Or as the ocean , to the traveller 
 That rests upon the snowy Apennines." 
 
 It is perhaps only a personal accident that for years 
 this Bagdet tower has been before my eyes, distinct, 
 mysterious, with motionless figures at its top, gazing 
 over the desert. These and some other of his similes 
 are what we think of as Miltonic. With all his dif- 
 fuseness, he is often compressed and vivid : 
 
 " A hell as hopeless and as full of fear 
 As are the blasted banks of Erebus." 
 
 Subtle imaginations haunt him. So the fascination in 
 Coleridge's thought of great ocean solitudes nev.er 
 intruded on — 
 
 " We were the first that ever burst 
 Into that silent sea " — 
 
 had been felt by the poet of Tamburlaine. 
 
 ' ' Where raging Lantchidol 
 Beats on the regions with his boisterous blows, 
 That never seaman yet discovered." 
 
 There is an interest in contemplating the possible 
 career, had they been spared to the full expression of 
 their powers, of " the inheritors of unfulfilled renown." 
 The fact that Marlowe and Shakespeare were almost 
 
I 
 
 XVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 precisely of an age, and our knowledge that had the 
 latter also died in 1593 his ascertained work would 
 hardly be ated as equal with Marlowe's remains, 
 naturally di: cts one to Marlowe's future if he had 
 lived. The course of his work seems to have been 
 encouraging, if we close it with Ethuard II. But his 
 creative skill and enthusiasm apparently reached its 
 height some time before his death. The moral disorders 
 into which he fell appear to have been associated with 
 recklessness of temper and a harsh intellectual inde- 
 pendence, of ill augury for his development. He 
 might, surely, have applied himself once more to 
 serious work. Yet even with a renewal of ambition 
 and industry, Shakespearian success in drama would 
 still have been unsure. Compared with his imagina- 
 tive gifts, one must recognize a deficiency in thought- 
 fulness. There are, indeed, brilliant ideas here and 
 there ; for instance, the account of Hell as a state of 
 mind instead of place. So, Hero and Leander exhibits 
 no little mental nimbleness, and in at least three of his 
 characters we feel impressive intellectual conceptions. 
 Yet it remains true that we miss the pervasive intellec- 
 tual seriousness that seems essential to a profound and 
 broad exposition of human nature. Then, too (in 
 spite of Mr. Swinburne's allusion to those who dis- 
 parage Marlowe's dramatic technique as "sciolists and 
 pretenders to criticism"), we must question whether 
 he was eminently gifted in construction. In the faculty 
 of humor, again, with all its genial contributions to 
 drama of contrast, relief, range of portraiture — nor less, 
 with its critical restraint upon exaggeration and ex- 
 travagance in both content and form — Marlowe has nQ 
 
I 
 
 INTRODUCTION. xvii 
 
 inferior. Consequently his individuals are wanting in 
 flexibility and ease, his groups lack variety, and, while 
 at his rare jests we may not smile, we sometimes smile 
 where he had no thought of jesting. His personal 
 immoralities of conduct, too, are suggested by the un- 
 moral tendencies of his characterisation. In most un- 
 happy contrast with Shakespeare, his masterpieces are 
 bad characters. With the exception of Kent (a faint 
 figure after all), he has left us no morally attractive 
 man. Nor did he ever sketch an interesting woman 
 For Zenocrate and Abigail, so far as dramatic quality 
 goes, are shadows, and Isabel is drawn in uncertain 
 and, on the whole, unpleasant lines. Yet, unless I mis- 
 take, the mention of these names (and perhaps even 
 more the mention of Helen, who only passes across 
 his stage, and that silently) will arouse a poetical sen- 
 sation in any who have come under the Marlowe spell. 
 For although only minor creations, they still are surely 
 heroines of that dim, dreamy grove where the ladies of 
 romance are beautiful forever. Zenocrate, indeed is 
 but a word, yet how ardently and tenderly he caresses 
 it. She means nothing to our intelligence, yet in the 
 silence of her solemn evening walk" her beauty and 
 tears have the charm of romance. So, too, in the 
 effect of such lines as these of Helen : 
 
 " Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air, 
 Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars ; " 
 
 and these of Hero : 
 
 "At Sestos Hero dwelt, Hero the fair. 
 Whom young Apollo courted for her hair ; " 
 
xvi li INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and this of Abigail : 
 
 " The sweetest flower in Cytherea's field." 
 
 I never recall such scenes as the introduction of 
 Helen, without regretting that contemporary influences 
 could not have directed Marlowe to narrative poetry, 
 instead of to the drama, for he felt poetic exteriors, 
 he seldom penetrated. It is necessary for the dram- 
 atist to conceive his characters complexly ; without 
 an inner vision of his men and women, his work will 
 appear shallow and tame. The narrative poet, how- 
 ever, requires less depth and range in characteriza- 
 tion. His descriptive faculty informs the reader of a 
 few salient traits, and there is persuasiveness in his 
 personal enthusiasm. He may describe impressions, 
 present pictures, and linger over artistic details. 
 When he chooses to allow his characters to explain 
 their own state of mind, only in form is the narration 
 transferred. So, the concluding speech of Faustus 
 could occur in an epic quite as well as in a play, and 
 the epic note is to be detected in most of Marlowe's 
 impressive passages. He was susceptible to moods, 
 rather than to situations. His spirit was too individual 
 for the drama. He liked one hero, a man among 
 pigmies. The pictures in his dialogue, the rhapsodies, 
 the towering comparisons, his fondness for an almost 
 lyrical intermezzo, his delight in purely musical effects 
 of turn and refrain and sounding names, the stray 
 phrases that bespeak the author, rather than the char- 
 acters who utter them, seem of the poem, rather than 
 of the play. 
 
 Not but that Marlowe gives brilliant proofs of dra- 
 
IN TROD UC 7 'ION. x IX 
 
 matic faculty. The earlier part of The Jeiv of Malta 
 is certainly strong, aside from its poetry. And Faustus 
 is dramatic, although in conception it is almost a 
 monodrama — a soul confronted with itself and with 
 the mysteries of Good and Evil that solicit it. How 
 well he could plan and conduct a stage situation will 
 be manifest more than once to the readers of Edward 
 II. The point is simply this : Marlowe seems pri- 
 marily a poet. The chronology of his works shows 
 how he schooled himself from the epic to the dramatic 
 standpoint. What impresses us first of all in an ideal 
 play, is its effect as a whole ; afterwards, we dwell on 
 its single characters and details. Whereas, instead of 
 being a little temple, perfect first as architecture, and 
 then in its separate pillars and images, which are per- 
 fect in relation as well as individually, our principal 
 impression in Marlowe's best play is of one figure, 
 one column. 
 
 Marlowe was neither great enough nor small enough 
 for poetic realism. He was best fitted for anachronistic 
 heroics. Something of modern mystery, restlessness, 
 and spiritual daring, something of universal passion 
 and beauty, the new world's romantic genius made 
 more effective by some certain allegiance to classical 
 forms of the literary art, would have been traits in any 
 elaborate study that he might have made in pure 
 poetry. Despite his exuberances and rantings he 
 knew the art of style, and that too not merely in color 
 and magic, but sometimes in a more sober way. Occa- 
 sionally he astonishes us by his creative appreciation 
 of the lettered past. He loved the richness and detail 
 of epic imagery. Ancient mythology could inspire 
 
XX INTRODUCTION. 
 
 him. He caught his fine manner from his models, 
 and notwithstanding a boyish turn for grandiloquence, 
 he was often rightly grandiose. With what noble 
 dignity he invokes the invisible powers : 
 
 " Open, thou shining veil of Cynthia, 
 And make a passage from the empyreal Heaven, 
 That he that sits on high and never sleeps, 
 Nor in one place is circumscriptible, 
 But everywhere fills every continent 
 With strange infusion of his sacred vigour." 
 
 Again, such lines as these, the dying apostrophe of 
 a royal captive, though ill-pitched for dramatic suc- 
 cess, are fine heroics : 
 
 " O, highest lamp of ever-living Jove, 
 Accursed day ! infected with my griefs, 
 Hide now thy stained face in endless night, 
 And shut the windows of the lightsome Heavens ! 
 Let ugly Darkness with her rusty coach, 
 Engirt with tempests, wrapt in pitchy clouds, 
 Smother the earth with never-fading mists ! 
 
 Then let the stony dart of senseless cold 
 
 Pierce through the centre of my withered heart." 
 
 Nevertheless, Marlowe was chosen to be a drama- 
 tist, and as such he accomplished eminent results. 
 Tamburlaine set the example of stirring plays that 
 should also belong to accurate and beautiful literature, 
 Faustus was admired by the Goethe of a greater Faust. 
 The Jeiu of Malta and Edward II. were looked up 
 to, and echoed by Shakespeare, in his thirties. As 
 one writes the titles, that Marlowe-spell already named 
 comes over one. It was mainly the lack of a higher 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXI 
 
 gift of character, so we may judge, that prevented 
 Marlowe from standing where our sympathies would 
 place him. The fact that he came in the van of our 
 dramatists must not unduly exalt him : ./Eschylus, 
 Dante, Chaucer in his typical work, led the way, too. 
 Yet, even at the coldest estimate, he is a great dramatic 
 forerunner, and one of the world's great poets. For 
 he had the sensation of beauty and power, and an 
 energy rare even in genius. He was endowed with 
 poetic speech. And, as Arnold wrote of Byron, 
 though he teaches us little, we feel him. We feel 
 him as a swift glory of poetry and passion, a twofold 
 nature of grace and splendid, even if unordered, 
 strength. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 King Edward the Second. 
 Prince Edward his son, afterwards 
 
 King Edward the Third. 
 Kent, Edmund, Earl of, brother to 
 
 King Edward the Second. 
 Gaveston. 
 
 Archbishop of Canterbury. 
 Bishop of Coventry. 
 Bishop of Winchester. 
 Warwick. 
 Lancaster. 
 Pembroke. 
 Arundel. 
 Leicester. 
 Berkeley. 
 Mortimer the elder. 
 Mortimer the younger, his nephew. 
 Spenser the elder. 
 Spenser the younger, his son. 
 Baldock. 
 Beaumont. 
 
 Trussel. 
 
 Gurney. 
 
 Matrevis. 
 
 Lightborn. 
 
 Sir John of Hainault. 
 
 Levune. 
 
 Rice ap Howel. 
 
 Mayor of Bristow. 
 
 Abbot. 
 
 Monks. 
 
 Herald. 
 
 Lords, Poor Men, James, Mower, 
 
 Champion, Messengers, Soldiers, 
 
 and Attendants. 
 
 Queen Isabella, wife to King Ed- 
 ward the Second. 
 
 Niece to King Edward the Second, 
 daughter to the Duke of Gloces- 
 ter. 
 
 Ladies. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 London, a street. 
 
 Scene I. 
 Enter Gaveston, reading a letter. 
 
 Gav. My father is deceased ! Come, Gaveston, 
 And share the kingdom with thy dearest friend. 
 Ah, words that make me surfeit with delight ! 
 What greater bliss can hap to Gaveston, 
 Than live and be the favourite of a king ! 5 
 
 Sweet prince, I come ! these, these thy amorous lines 
 
2 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Might have enforc'd me to have swum from Fiance, 
 
 And like Leander, gasp'd upon the sand, 
 
 So thou would'st smile, and take me in thine arms. 
 
 The sight of London to my exil'd eyes 10 
 
 Is as Elysium toa new-come soul ; 
 
 Not that I love the city, or the men, 
 
 But that it harbours him I hold so dear, — 
 
 The king, upon whose bosom let me lie, 
 
 And with the world be still at enmity. 15 
 
 What need the arctic people love star-light, 
 
 To whom the sun shines both by day and night? 
 
 Farewell base stooping to the lordly peers ! 
 
 My knee shall bow to none but to the king. 
 
 As for the multitude, that are but sparks, 20 
 
 Rak'd up in embers of their poverty, — 
 
 Tanti, — I'll fawn first on the wind 
 
 That glanceth at my lips, and flieth away. 
 
 Enter three Poor Men. 
 
 But how now ! what are these ? 
 
 Poor Men. Such as desire your worship's service. 
 
 Gav. What canst thou do ? 26 
 
 First P. Man. I can ride. 
 
 Gav. But I have no horse. — What art thou ? 
 
 Sec. P. Man. A traveller. 
 
 Gav. Let me see — thou wouldst do well 30 
 
 To wait at my trencher, and tell me lies at dinner- 
 time ; 
 And, as I like your discoursing, I'll have you. — 
 And what art thou ? 
 
ACT I. SCENE I. 3 
 
 Third P. Man. A soldier, that hath serv'd against 
 the Scot. 
 
 Gav. Why, there are hospitals for such as you ; 
 I have no war ; and therefore, sir, be gone. 36 
 
 Third P. Man. Farewell, and perish by a soldier's 
 hand, 
 That wouldst reward them with an hospital. 
 
 Gav. Ay, ay, these words of his move me as much 
 As if a goose should play the porcupine, 40 
 
 And dart her plumes, thinking to pierce my breast. 
 But yet it is no pain to speak men fair ; 
 I'll flatter these, and make them live in hope. [Aside. 
 You know that I came lately out of France, 
 And yet I have not view'd my lord the king ; 45 
 
 If I speed well, I'll entertain you all. 
 
 All. We thank your worship. 
 
 Gav. I have some business. Leave me to myself. 
 
 All. We will wait here about the court. 
 
 Gav. Do. [Exeunt Poor Men. 
 
 These are not men for me; 51 
 
 I must have wanton poets, pleasant wits, 
 Musicians, that with touching of a string 
 May draw the pliant king which way I please. 
 Music and poetry is his delight ; 55 
 
 Therefore I'll have Italian masques by night, 
 Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows ; 
 And in the day, when he shall walk abroad, 
 Like sylvan nymphs my pages shall be clad ; 
 My men, like satyrs grazing on the lawns, 60 
 
 Shall with their goat-feet dance the antic hay ; 
 
4 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Sometime a lovely boy in Dian's shape, 
 
 With hair that gilds the water as it glides, 
 
 Crownets of pearl about his naked arms, 
 
 And in his sportful hands an olive-tree, 65 
 
 Shall bathe him in a spring ; and there, hard by, 
 
 One like Actaeon, peeping through the grove, 
 
 Shall by the angry goddess be transform'd, 
 
 And running in the likeness of an hart, 
 
 By yelping hounds pull'd down, shall seem to die : 70 
 
 Such things as these best please his majesty. — 
 
 Here comes my lord the king, and the nobles from 
 the Parliament. I'll stand aside. [Retires. 
 
 Enter King Edward, Lancaster, the elder Morti- 
 mer, the younger Mortimer, Kent, Warwick, 
 Pembroke, and Attendants. 
 
 K. Edw. Lancaster ! 
 
 Lan. My Lord. 75 
 
 Gav. That Earl of Lancaster do I abhor. [Aside. 
 
 K. Edw. Will you not grant me this ? — In spite of 
 them 
 I'll have my will ; and these two Mortimers, 
 That cross me thus, shall know I am displeas'd. [Aside. 
 
 E. Mor. If you love us, my lord, hate Gaveston. 
 
 Gav. That villain Mortimer ! I'll be his death. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Y. Mor. Mine uncle here, this earl, and I myself, 
 Were sworn to your father at his death, 
 That he should ne'er return into the realm : 
 And know, my lord, ere I will break my oath, 85 
 
 This sword of mine, that should offend your foes, 
 
ACT /. SCENE I. 5 
 
 Shall sleep within the scabbard at thy need, 
 And underneath thy banners march who will, 
 For Mortimer will hang his armour up. 
 
 Gav. Mart dieu ! [Aside. 
 
 K. Edw. Well, Mortimer, I'll make thee rue these 
 words : 9 1 
 
 Beseems it thee to contradict thy king ? 
 Frown'st thou thereat, aspiring Lancaster ? 
 The sword shall plane the furrows of thy brows, 
 And hew these knees that now are grown so stiff. 95 
 I will have Gaveston ; and you shall know 
 What danger 'tis to stand against your king. 
 
 Gav. Well done, Ned ! [Aside. 
 
 Lan. My lord, why do you thus incense your peers, 
 That naturally would love and honour you, 100 
 
 But for that base and obscure Gaveston ? 
 Four earldoms have I, besides Lancaster — 
 Derby, Salisbury, Lincoln, Leicester ; 
 These will I sell, to give my soldiers pay, 
 Ere Gaveston shall stay within the realm ; 105 
 
 Therefore, if he be come, expel him straight. 
 
 Kent. Barons and earls, your pride hath made me 
 mute ; 
 But now I'll speak, and to the proof, I hope. 
 I do remember, in my father's days, 
 Lord Percy of the North, being highly mov'd, no 
 Braved Mowbray in presence of the king ; 
 For which, had not his highness lov'd him well, 
 He should have lost his head ; but with his look 
 Th' undaunted spirit of Percy was appeas'd, 
 And Mowbray and he were reconcil'd : 115 
 
6 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Yet dare you brave the king unto his face. — 
 Brother, revenge it, and let these their heads 
 Preach upon poles, for trespass of their tongues. 
 
 War. O, our heads ! 
 
 K. Edw. Ay, yours ; and therefore I would wish 
 you grant. 120 
 
 War. Bridle thy anger, gentle Mortimer. 
 
 Y. Mor. I cannot, nor I will not ; I must speak. — 
 Cousin, our hands I hope shall fence our heads, 
 And strike off his that makes you threaten us. — 
 Come, uncle, let us leave the brain-sick king, 125 
 
 And henceforth parley with our naked swords. 
 
 E. Mor. Wiltshire hath men enough to save our 
 heads. 
 
 War. All Warwickshire will love him for my sake. 
 
 Lan. And northward Gaveston hath many friends. — 
 Adieu, my lord ; and either change your mind, 130 
 Or took to see the throne, where you should sit, 
 To float in blood, and at thy wanton head 
 The glozing head of thy base minion thrown. 
 
 [Exeunt all except King Edward, 
 Kent, Gaveston, and Attendants. 
 
 K. Edw. I cannot brook these haughty menaces ; 
 Am I a king, and must be over-rul'd ? — 135 
 
 Brother, display my ensigns in the field ; 
 I'll bandy with the barons and the earls, 
 And either die or live with Gaveston. 
 
 Gav. I can no longer keep me from my lord. 
 
 [ Comes forward. 
 
ACT I. SCENE I. 7 
 
 K. Edw. What, Gaveston ! welcome ! Kiss not 
 my hand ; 140 
 
 Embrace me, Gaveston, as I do thee. 
 Why shouldst thou kneel ? know'st thou not who I am ? 
 Thy friend, thyself, another Gaveston ! 
 Not Hylas was more mourned for of Hercules, 
 Than thou hast been of me since thy exile. 145 
 
 Gav. And since I went from hence, no soul in hell 
 Hath felt more torment than poor Gaveston. 
 
 K. Ediv. I know it. — Brother, welcome home my 
 friend. — 
 Now let the treacherous Mortimers conspire, 
 And that high-minded Earl of Lancaster : 150 
 
 I have my wish, in that I joy thy sight ; 
 And sooner shall the sea o'erwhelm my land, 
 Than bear the ship that shall transport thee hence. 
 I here create thee Lord High-chamberlain, 
 Chief Secretary to the state and me, 155 
 
 Earl of Cornwall, King and Lord of Man. 
 
 Gav. My lord, these titles far exceed my worth. 
 
 Kent. Brother, the least of these may well suffice 
 For one of greater birth than Gaveston. 
 
 K. Edw. Cease, brother : for I cannot brook these 
 words. — 160 
 
 Thy worth, sweet friend, is far above my gifts, 
 Therefore, to equal it, receive my heart. 
 If for these dignities thou be envied, 
 I'll give thee more ; for, but to honour thee, 
 Is Edward pleas'd with kingly regiment. 165 
 
 Fear'st thou thy person ? thou shalt have a guard : 
 Wantest thou gold ? go to my treasury : 
 
8 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Wouldst thou be lov'd and fear'd ? receive my seal, 
 
 Save or condemn, and in our name command 
 
 What so thy mind affects, or fancy likes. 170 
 
 Gav. It shall suffice me to enjoy your love ; 
 Which whiles I have, I think myself as great 
 As Caesar riding in the Roman street, 
 With captive kings at his triumphant car. 
 
 Enter the Bishop of Coventry. 
 
 K. Edw. Whither goes my lord of Coventry so 
 fast ? 175 
 
 Bish. of Cov. To celebrate your father's exequies. 
 But is that wicked Gaveston return'd ? 
 
 K. Edw. Ay, priest, and lives to be reveng'd on 
 thee, 
 That wert the only cause of his exile. 
 
 Gav. 'Tis true ; and, but for reverence of these 
 robes, 180 
 
 Thou shouldst not plod one foot beyond this place. 
 
 Bish. of Cov. I did no more than I was bound to 
 do ; 
 And, Gaveston, unless thou be reclaim'd, 
 As then I did incense the parliament, 
 So will I now, and thou shalt back to France. 185 
 
 Gav. Saving your reverence, you must pardon me. 
 
 K. Edw. Throw off his golden mitre, rend his stole, 
 And in the channel christen him anew. 
 
 Kent. Ah, brother, lay not violent hands on him, 
 For he'll complain unto the see of Rome. 190 
 
 Gav. Let him complain unto the see of hell : 
 I'll be reveng'd on him for my exile. 
 
ACT I. SCENE II. 9 
 
 K. Edw. No, spare his life, but seize upon his 
 goods : 
 Be thou lord bishop and receive his rents, 
 And make him serve thee as thy chaplain : 195 
 
 I give him thee ; here, use him as thou wilt. 
 
 Gav. He shall to prison, and there die in bolts. 
 K. Edw. Ay, to the Tower, the Fleet, or where 
 
 thou wilt. 
 Bisk, of Cov. For this offence, be thou accurs'd 
 
 of God ! 
 K. Edw. Who's there ? Convey this priest to the 
 Tower. 200 
 
 Bisk, of Cov. True, true. 
 
 K. Edw. But in the mean time, Gaveston, away, 
 And take possession of his house and goods. 
 Come, follow me, and thou shalt have my guard 
 To see it done, and bring thee safe again. 205 
 
 Gav. What should a priest do with so fair a house ? 
 A prison may beseem his holiness. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. London, near the King's Palace. 
 
 Enter, o?i one side the elder Mortimer and the younger 
 Mortimer ; on the other, Warwick and Lan- 
 caster. 
 
 War. 'Tis true : the bishop is in the Tower, 
 And goods and body given to Gaveston. 
 
 Lan. What ! will they tyrannize upon the church ? 
 Ah, wicked king ! accursed Gaveston ! 
 This ground, which is corrupted with their steps, 5 
 Shall be their timeless sepulchre or mine. 
 
IO EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Y. Mor. Well, let that peevish Frenchman guard 
 him sure ; 
 Unless his breast be sword-proof, he shall die. 
 
 E. Mor. How now, why droops the Earl of Lan- 
 caster ? 
 
 Y. Mor. Wherefore is Guy of Warwick dis- 
 content ? 10 
 Lan. That villain Gaveston is made an earl. 
 E. Mor. An earl ! 
 
 War. Ay, and besides Lord-chamberlain of the 
 realm, 
 And Secretary too, and Lord of Man. 
 
 E. Mor. We may not nor we will not suffer this. 
 Y. Mor. Why post we not from hence to levy 
 men? 16 
 
 Lan. " My Lord of Cornwall," now at every word ; 
 And happy is the man whom he vouchsafes, 
 For vailing of his bonnet, one good look. 
 Thus, arm in arm, the king and he doth march : 20 
 Nay more, the guard upon his lordship waits, 
 And all the court begins to flatter him. 
 
 War. Thus leaning on the shoulder of the king, 
 He nods, and scorns, and smiles at those that pass. 
 E. Mor. Doth no man take exceptions at the 
 slave ? 25 
 
 Lan. All stomach him, but none dare speak a 
 
 word. 
 Y. Mor. Ah, that bewrays their baseness, Lan- 
 caster. 
 Were all the earls and barons of my mind, 
 
ACT I. SCENE II. II 
 
 We'd hale him from the bosom of the king, 
 
 And at the court-gate hang the peasant up ; 30 
 
 Who, swoln with venom of ambitious pride, 
 
 Will be the ruin of the realm and us. 
 
 War. Here comes my lord of Canterbury's grace. 
 
 Lan. His countenance bewrays he is displeas'd. 
 
 Enter the Archbishop of Canterbury and an 
 Attendant. 
 
 Archb. of Cant. First were his sacred garments 
 rent and torn, 35 
 
 Then laid they violent hands upon him ; next 
 Himself imprison'd, and his goods asseiz'd : 
 This certify the Pope ; — away, take horse. 
 
 [Exit Attendant. 
 
 Lan. My lord, will you take arms against the king? 
 
 Archb. of Cant. What need I ? God himself is up 
 
 in arms, 40 
 
 When violence is offer'd to the church. 
 
 Y. Mor. Then will you join with us, that be his 
 peers, 
 To banish or behead that Gaveston ? 
 
 Archb. of Cant. What else, my lords ? for it con- 
 cerns me near ; — 
 The bishoprick of Coventry is his. 45 
 
 Enter Queen Isabella. 
 
 Y. Mor. Madam, whither walks your majesty so 
 fast ? 
 
 Q. Isab. Unto the forest, gentle Mortimer, 
 To live in grief and baleful discontent ; 
 
12 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 For now my lord the king regards me not, 
 
 But dotes upon the love of Gaveston : 50 
 
 He claps his cheeks, and hangs about his neck, 
 
 Smiles in his face, and whispers in his ears ; 
 
 And when I come he frowns, as who should say, 
 
 u Go whither thou wilt, seeing I have Gaveston." 
 
 E. Mor. Is it not strange, that he is thus bewitch'd ? 
 
 Y. Mor. Madam, return unto the court again : 56 
 That sly inveigling Frenchman we'll exile, 
 Or lose our lives ; and yet ere that day come 
 The king shall lose his crown ; for we have power, 
 And courage too, to be reveng'd at full. 60 
 
 Archb. of Cant. But yet lift not your swords against 
 the king. 
 
 Lan. No ; but we will lift Gaveston from hence. 
 
 War. And war must be the means, or he'll stay 
 still. 
 
 Q. Isab. Then let him stay ; for rather than my 
 lord 
 Shall be oppress'd with civil mutinies, 65 
 
 I will endure a melancholy life, 
 And let him frolic with his minion. 
 
 Archb. of Cant. My lords, to ease all this, but hear 
 me speak : 
 We and the rest, that are his counsellors, 
 Will meet, and with a general consent 70 
 
 Confirm his banishment with our hands and seals. 
 
 Lan. What we confirm the king will frustrate. 
 
 - Y. Mor. Then may we lawfully revolt from him. 
 
ACT I. SCENE IV. i$ 
 
 War. But say, my lord, where shall this meeting be ? 
 Archb. of Cant. At the New Temple. 75 
 
 Y. Mor. Content. 
 
 Archb. of Cant. And, in the mean time, I'll entreat 
 you all 
 To cross to Lambeth, and there stay with me. 
 Lan. Come then, let's away. 
 Y. Mor. Madam, farewell ! 
 
 Q. /sab. Farewell, sweet Mortimer ; and, for my 
 sake, 80 
 
 Forbear to levy arms against the king. 
 
 Y. Mor. Ay, if words will serve ; if not, I must. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. London, a street. 
 
 Enter Gaveston and Kent. 
 
 Gav. Edmund, the mighty prince of Lancaster, 
 That hath more earldoms than an ass can bear, 
 And both the Mortimers, two goodly men, 
 With Guy of Warwick, that redoubted knight, 
 Are gone toward Lambeth : there let them remain. 5 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. London, the New Temple. 
 
 Enter Lancaster, Warwick, Pembroke, the elder 
 Mortimer, the younger Mortimer, the Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, and Attendants. 
 
 Lan. Here is the form of Gaveston's exile : 
 May it please your lordship to subscribe your name. 
 
14 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Archb. of Cant. Give me the paper. 
 
 \He subscribes, as the others do after him. 
 Lan. Quick, quick, my lord ; I long to write my 
 
 name. 
 War. But I long more to see him banish'd hence. 5 
 Y. Mor. The name of Mortimer shall fright the 
 king, 
 Unless he be declin'd from that base peasant. 
 
 Enter King Edward, Gaveston, and Kent. 
 
 K. Edw. What, are you mov'd that Gaveston sits 
 here ? 
 It is our pleasure ; we will have it so. 
 
 La?i. Your grace doth well to place him by your 
 side, 10 
 
 For no where else the new earl is so safe. 
 
 E. Mor. What man of noble birth can brook this 
 sight ? 
 Quam male convenhmt ! — 
 See what a scornful look the peasant casts ! 
 
 Pern. Can kingly lions fawn on creeping ants ? 15 
 
 War. Ignoble vassal, that like Phaeton 
 Aspir'st unto the guidance of the sun. 
 
 Y. Mor. Their downfall is at hand, their forces 
 down : 
 We will not thus be fac'd and over-peer'd. 
 
 K. Edw. Lay hands on that traitor Mortimer ! 20 
 
 E. Mor. Lay hands on that traitor Gaveston ! 
 
 Kent. Is this the duty that you owe your king ? 
 
 War. We know our duties : let him know his peers. 
 
ACT I. SCENE IV. 15 
 
 K. Edw. Whither will you bear him ? stay, or ye 
 
 shall die. 
 E. Mor. We are no traitors ; therefore threaten 
 not. 25 
 
 Gav. No, threaten not, my lord, but pay them home. 
 
 Were I a king 
 
 Y. Mor. Thou villain, wherefore talk'st thou of a 
 king, 
 Thou hardly art a gentleman by birth ? 
 
 K. Edw. Were he a peasant, being my minion, 30 
 I'll make the proudest of you stoop to him. 
 
 Lan. My lord, you may not thus disparage us. — 
 Away, I say, with hateful Gaveston. 
 E. Mort. And with the Earl of Kent that favours 
 him. 
 
 [Attendants remove Gaveston and Kent. 
 K. Edw. Nay, then, lay violent hands upon your 
 
 king ; 35 
 
 Here, Mortimer, sit thou in Edward's throne ; 
 Warwick and Lancaster, wear you my crown. 
 Was ever king thus over-rul'd as I ? 
 
 Lan. Learn then to rule us better, and the realm. 
 Y. Mor. What we have done our heart -blood shall 
 maintain. 40 
 
 War. Think you that we can brook this upstart's 
 
 pride ? 
 K. Edw. Anger and wrathful fury stops my speech. 
 Archb. of Cant. Why are you mov'd ? be patient, 
 my lord, 
 And see what we your counsellors have done. 
 
1 6 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Y. Mor. My lords, now let us all be resolute, 45 
 And either have our wills or lose our lives. 
 
 K. Edw. Meet you for this, proud over-daring 
 peers ? 
 Ere my sweet Gaveston shall part from me, 
 This isle shall fleet upon the ocean, 
 And wander to the unfrequented Inde. 50 
 
 Archb. of Cant. You know that I am legate to the 
 Pope ; 
 On your allegiance to the see of Rome, 
 Subscribe, as we have done, to his exile. 
 
 Y. Mor. Curse him, if he refuse ; and then may we 
 Depose him, and elect another king. 55 
 
 K. Edw. Ay, there it goes ! but yet I will not yield : 
 Curse me, depose me, do the worst you can. 
 
 Lan. Then linger not, my lord, but do it straight. 
 
 Archb. of Cant. Remember how the bishop was 
 abus'd ! 
 Either banish him that was the cause thereof, 60 
 
 Or I will presently discharge these lords 
 Of duty and allegiance due to thee. 
 
 K. Edw. It boots me not to threat ; I must speak 
 fair : \ A side. 
 
 The legate of the Pope will be obey'd. 
 My lord, you shall be Chancellor of the realm ; 65 
 Thou, Lancaster, High-Admiral of our fleet ; 
 Young Mortimer and his uncle shall be earls ; 
 And you, Lord Warwick, President of the North ; 
 And thou of Wales. If this content you not, 
 Make several kingdoms of this monarchy, 70 
 
ACT I. SCENE IV. 17 
 
 And share it equally amongst you all, 
 So I may have some nook or corner left, 
 To frolic with my dearest Gaveston. 
 
 Archb. of Cant. Nothing shall alter us ; — we are 
 resolv'd. 
 
 Lan. Come, come, subscribe. 75 
 
 Y. Mor. Why should you love him whom the 
 world hates so ? 
 
 K. Edw. Because he loves me more than all the 
 world. 
 Ah, none but rude and savage-minded men 
 Would seek the ruin of my Gaveston ! 
 You that be noble-born should pity him. 80 
 
 War. You that are princely-born should shake 
 him off ; 
 For shame, subscribe, and let the lown depart. 
 
 E. Mor. Urge him, my lord. 
 
 Archb. of Cant. Are you content to banish him the 
 
 realm ? 
 K. Edw. I see I must, and therefore am content : 
 Instead of ink I'll write it with my tears. [Subscribes. 
 Y. Mor. The king is love-sick for his minion. 
 K. Edw. Tis done : and now, accursed hand, fail 
 
 off! 
 Lan. Give it me : I'll have it publish'd in the 
 
 streets. 
 Y. Mor. I'll see him presently despatch'd away. 
 Archb. of Cant. Now is my heart at ease. 
 War. And so is mine. 91 
 
1 8 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Pern. This will be good news to the common 
 sort. 
 
 E, Mor. Be it or no, he shall not linger here. 
 
 [Exeunt all except King Edward. 
 
 K. Ediv. How fast they run to banish him I love ! 
 They would not stir, were it to do me good. 95 
 
 Why should a king be subject to a priest? 
 Proud Rome, that hatchest such imperial grooms, 
 With these thy superstitious taper-lights, 
 Wherewith thy antichristian churches blaze, 
 I'll fire thy crazed buildings, and enforce 100 
 
 The papal towers to kiss the lowly ground ! 
 With slaughter'd priests make Tiber's channel swell, 
 And banks rais'd higher with their sepulchres ! 
 As for the peers, that back the clergy thus, 
 If 1 be king, not one of them shall live. 105 
 
 Re-enter Gaveston. 
 
 Gav. My lord, I hear it whisper'd everywhere, 
 That I am banish'd, and must fly the land. 
 
 K. Edw. 'Tis true, sweet Gaveston — O, were it 
 false ! 
 The legate of the Pope will have it so, 
 And thou must hence, or I shall be depos'd. no 
 
 But I will reign to be reveng'd of them ; 
 And therefore, sweet friend, take it patiently. 
 Live where thou wilt, I'll send thee gold enough ; 
 And long thou shalt not stay ; or if thou dost, 
 I'll come to thee ; my love shall ne'er decline. 115 
 
 Gav. Is all my hope turn'd to this hell of grief ? 
 
ACT I. SCENE IV. 19 
 
 K. Ediv. Rend not my heart with thy too-piercing 
 words : 
 Thou from this land, I from myself am banish'd. 
 
 Gav. To go from hence grieves not poor Gaveston; 
 But to forsake you, in whose gracious looks 120 
 
 The blessedness of Gaveston remains ; 
 For no where else seeks he felicity. 
 
 K. Ediv. And only this torments my wretched soul, 
 That, whether I will or no, thou must depart. 
 Be governor of Ireland in my stead, 125 
 
 And there abide till fortune call thee home. 
 Here, take my picture, and let me wear thine ; 
 
 [ They exchange pictures. 
 O, might I keep thee here as I do this, 
 Happy were I ! but now most miserable. 
 
 Gav. 'Tis something to be pitied of a king. 130 
 
 K. Edw. Thou shalt not hence — I '11 hide thee, 
 Gaveston. 
 
 Gav. I shall be found, and then 'twill grieve me 
 more. 
 
 K. Edw. Kind words, and mutual talk make our 
 grief greater : 
 Therefore with dumb embracement, let us part. 
 Stay, Gaveston ; I cannot leave thee thus. 135 
 
 Gav. For every look, my lord, drops down a tear : 
 Seeing I must go, do not renew my sorrow. 
 
 K. Edw. The time is little that thou hast to stay, 
 And, therefore, give me leave to look my fill. 
 But come, sweet friend ; I '11 bear thee on thy way. 140 
 
 Gav. The peers will frown. 
 
20 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 K. Edw. I pass not for their anger — Come let's go ; 
 
 that we might as well return as go! 
 
 Enter Queen Isabella. 
 
 Q. Isab. Whither goes my lord ? 
 K. Edw. Fawn not on me, French strumpet ! get 
 thee gone. 145 
 
 Q. Isab. On whom but on my husband should I 
 fawn ? 
 
 Gav. On Mortimer ; with whom, ungentle queen, — 
 
 1 say no more — judge you the rest, my lord. 
 
 Q. Isab. In saying this, thou wrong'st me, Gav- 
 eston ; 
 Is't not enough that thou corrupt'st my lord, 150 
 
 And art a bawd to his affections, 
 But thou must call mine honour thus in question ? 
 Gav. I mean not so ; your grace must pardon me. 
 K. Edw. Thou art too familiar with that Mortimer, 
 And by thy means is Gaveston exil'd ; 155 
 
 But I would wish thee reconcile the lords, 
 Or thou shalt ne'er be reconciled to me. 
 
 Q. Isab. Your highness knows it lies not in my 
 
 power. 
 K. Edw. Away then ! touch me not. — Come Gav- 
 eston. 
 Q. Isab. Villain ! 'tis thou that robb'st me of my 
 lord. 160 
 
 Gav. Madam, 'tis you that rob me of my lord. 
 K. Edw. Speak not unto her ; let her droop and 
 pine. 
 
ACT I. SCENE IV. 21 
 
 Q. Isab. Wherein, my lord, have I deserv'd these 
 words ? 
 Witness the tears that Isabella sheds, 
 Witness this heart, that, sighing for thee, breaks, 165 
 How dear my lord is to poor Isabel. 
 
 K. Edw. And witness heaven how dear thou art to 
 me ! 
 There weep : for, till my Gaveston be repeal'd, 
 Assure thyself thou com'st not in my sight. 
 
 [Exeunt King Edward and Gaveston. 
 
 Q. Isab. O miserable and distressed queen ! 170 
 Would, when I left sweet France and was embark'd, 
 That charming Circe, walking on the waves, 
 Had chang'd my shape, or at the marriage day 
 The cup of Hymen had been full of poison ! 
 Or with those arms that twin'd about my neck 175 
 I had been stifled, and not liv'd to see 
 The king my lord thus to abandon me ! 
 Like frantic Juno will I fill the earth 
 With ghastly murmur of my sighs and cries ; 
 For never doted Jove on Ganymede 180 
 
 So much as he on cursed Gaveston : 
 But that will more exasperate his wrath ; 
 I must entreat him, I must speak him fair, 
 And be a means to call home Gaveston : 
 And yet he'll ever dote on Gaveston : 185 
 
 And so am I for ever miserable 
 
 Re-enter Lancaster, Warwick, Pembroke, the elder 
 Mortimer, and the younger Mortimer. 
 
 Lan. Look where the sister of the King of France 
 Sits wringing of her hands, and beats her breast ! 
 
22 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 War. The king, I fear, hath ill-entreated her. 
 Pern. Hard is the heart that injures such a 
 
 saint. 190 
 
 Y. Mor. I know 'tis 'long of Gaveston she weeps. 
 E. Mor. Why, he is gone. 
 
 Y. Mor. Madam, how fares your grace ? 
 
 Q. Isab. Ah, Mortimer ! now breaks the king's 
 
 hate forth, 
 And he confesseth that he loves me not. 
 
 Y. Mor. Cry quittance, madam, then, and love not 
 him. 195 
 
 Q. Isab. No, rather will I die a thousand 
 deaths : 
 And yet I love in vain ; he'll ne'er love me. 
 
 Lan. Fear ye not, madam; now his minion's gone, 
 His wanton humour will be quickly left. 
 
 Q. Isab. O never, Lancaster ! I am enjoin'd 200 
 To sue unto you all for his repeal ; 
 This wills my lord, and this must I perform, 
 Or else be banish'd from his highness' presence. 
 
 Lan. For his repeal, madam ! he comes not back, 
 Unless the sea cast up his shipwreck'd body. 205 
 
 War. And to behold so sweet a sight as that, 
 There's none here but would run his horse to death. 
 
 Y. Mor. But, madam, would you have us call him 
 home ? 
 
 Q. Isab. Ay, Mortimer, for till he be restor'd, 
 The angry king hath banish'd me the court ; 210 
 
 And therefore, as thou lov'st and tender'st me, 
 Be thou my advocate unto these peers. 
 
ACT I. SCENE IV. 23 
 
 Y. Mor. What ! would you have me plead for 
 Gaveston ? 
 
 E. Mor. Plead for him that will, I am resolv'd. 
 
 Lan. And so am I, my lord ; dissuade the 
 queen. 215 
 
 Q. Isab. Lancaster ! let him dissuade the king ! 
 For 'tis against my will he should return. 
 
 War. Then speak not for him ; let the peasant go. 
 
 Q. Isab. 'Tis for myself I speak, and not for him. 
 
 Pern. No speaking will prevail, and therefore 
 cease. 220 
 
 Y. Mor. Fair queen, forbear to angle for the fish, 
 Which, being caught, strikes him that takes it dead ; 
 I mean that vile torpedo, Gaveston, 
 That now I hope floats on the Irish seas. 
 
 Q. Isab. Sweet Mortimer, sit down by me a 
 while, 225 
 
 And I will tell thee reasons of such weight, 
 As thou wilt soon subscribe to his repeal. 
 
 Y. Mor. It is impossible ; but speak your mind. 
 
 Q. Isab. Then thus ; — but none shall hear it but 
 ourselves. 
 
 [Talks to Y. Mortimer apart. 
 
 Lan. My lords, albeit the queen win Morti- 
 mer, 230 
 Will you be resolute, and hold with me ? 
 
 E. Mor. Not I, against my nephew. 
 
 Pern. Fear not, the queen's words cannot alter 
 him. 
 
24 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 War. No ? do but mark how earnestly she 
 pleads ! 
 
 Lan. And see how coldly his looks make 
 denial ! 235 
 
 War. She smiles; now for my life his mind is 
 chang'd ! 
 
 Lan. I'll rather lose his friendship, I, than grant. 
 
 Y. Mor. Well, of necessity it must be so. — 
 My lords, that I abhor base Gaveston 
 I hope your honours make no question, 240 
 
 And therefore, though I plead for his repeal, 
 'Tis not for his sake, but for our avail : 
 Nay, for the realm's behoof, and for the king's. 
 
 Lan. Fie, Mortimer, dishonour not thyself ! 
 Can this be true, 'twas good to banish him? 245 
 
 And is this true, to call him home again ? 
 Such reasons make white black, and dark night day. 
 
 Y. Mor. My lord of Lancaster, mark the respect. 
 
 Lan. In no respect can contraries be true. 
 
 Q. Isab. Yet, good my lord, hear what he can 
 
 allege. 250 
 
 War. All that he speaks is nothing ; we are re- 
 
 solv'd. 
 Y. Mor. Do you not wish that Gaveston were 
 
 dead ? 
 Pern. I would he were. 
 Y. Mor. Why then, my lord, give me but leave to 
 
 speak. 
 E. Mor. But, nephew, do not play the sophister. 
 
ACT I. SCENE IV. 25 
 
 Y. Mor. This which I urge is of a burning zeal 
 To mend the king, and do our country good. 
 Know yon not Gaveston hath store of gold, 
 Which may in Ireland purchase him such friends, 
 As he will front the mightiest of us all ? 260 
 
 And whereas he shall live and be belov'd, 
 'Tis hard for us to work his overthrow. 
 
 War. Mark you but that, my lord of Lancaster. 
 
 Y. Mor. But were he here, detested as he is, 
 How easily might some base slave be suborn'd 265 
 To greet his lordship with a poniard, 
 And none so much as blame the murderer, 
 But rather praise him for that brave attempt, 
 And in the chronicle enrol his name 
 For purging of the realm of such a plague ? 270 
 
 Pern. He saith true. 
 
 Lan. x\y, but how chance this was not done before ? 
 
 Y. Mor. Because, my lords, it was not thought 
 upon. 
 Nay, more, when he shall know it lies in us 
 To banish him, and then to call him home, 275 
 
 'Twill make him vail the top-flag of his pride, 
 And fear to offend the meanest nobleman. 
 
 E. Mor. But how if he do not, nephew ? 
 
 Y. Mor. Then may we with some colour rise in 
 arms ; 
 For, howsoever we have borne it out, 280 
 
 'Tis treason to be up against the king ; 
 So shall we have the people of our side, 
 Which for his father's sake lean to the king, 
 But cannot brook a night-grown mushroom, 
 
26 EDWAkD THE SECOND. 
 
 Such a one as my lord of Cornwall is, 285 
 
 Should bear us down of the nobility : 
 
 And when the commons and the nobles join, 
 
 'Tis not the king can buckler Gaveston ; 
 
 We'll pull him from the strongest hold he hath. 
 
 My lords, if to perform this I be slack, 290 
 
 Think me as base a groom as Gaveston. 
 
 Lan. On that condition, Lancaster will grant. 
 
 War. And so will Pembroke and I. 
 
 E. Mor. And I. 
 
 Y. Mor. In this I count me highly gratified, 
 And Mortimer will rest at your command. 295 
 
 Q. Isab. And when this favour Isabel forgets, 
 Then let her live abandon'd and forlorn. 
 But see, in happy time, my lord the king, 
 Having brought the Earl of Cornwall on his way, 
 Is new returned. This news will glad him much ; 
 Yet not so much as me ; I love him more 301 
 
 Than he can Gaveston ; would he lov'd me 
 But half so much ! then were I treble-blest. 
 
 Re-enter King Edward, mourning. 
 
 K. Edw. He's gone, and for his absence thus I 
 mourn : 
 Did never sorrow go so near my heart, 305 
 
 As doth the want of my sweet Gaveston ! 
 And could my crown's revenue bring him back, 
 I would freely give it to his enemies, 
 And think I gain'd, having bought so dear a friend. 
 
 Q. Isab. Hark ! how he harps upon his minion ! 
 
ACT I. SCENE IV. 27 
 
 K. Edw. My heart is as an anvil unto sorrow, 
 Which beats upon it like the Cyclops' hammers, 
 And with the noise turns up my giddy brain, 
 And makes me frantic for my Gaveston. 
 Ah, had some bloodless Fury rose from hell, 315 
 
 And with my kingly sceptre struck me dead, 
 When I was forc'd to leave my Gaveston ! 
 
 Lan. Diablo, what passions call you these ? 
 
 Q.Isab. My gracious lord, I come to bring you 
 news. 
 
 K. Edw. That you have parled with your Mortimer ? 
 
 Q. Isab. That Gaveston, my lord, shall be repeal'd. 
 
 K. Edw. Repeal'd ! the news is too sweet to be true. 
 
 Q. Isab. But will you love me, if you find it so ? 
 
 K. Edtv. If it be so, what will not Edward do ? 
 
 Q. Isab. For Gaveston, but not for Isabel. 325 
 
 K. Edw. For thee, fair queen, if thou lov'st Gav- 
 eston; 
 I'll hang a golden tongue about thy neck, 
 Seeing thou hast pleaded with so good success. 
 
 Q. Isab. No other jewels hang about my neck 
 Than these, my lord ; nor let me have more wealth 
 Than I may fetch from this rich treasury. 331 
 
 O how a kiss revives poor Isabel ! 
 
 K. Edw. Once more receive my hand ; and let 
 this be 
 A second marriage 'twixt thyself and me. 
 
 Q. Isab. And may it prove more happy than the 
 first ! 335 
 
 My gentle lord, bespeak these nobles fair, 
 
28 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 That wait attendance for a gracious look, 
 And on their knees salute your majesty. 
 
 K. Edw. Courageous Lancaster, embrace thy king; 
 And, as gross vapours perish by the sun, 340 
 
 Even so let hatred with thy sovereign's smile. 
 Live thou with me as my companion. 
 
 Lan. This salutation overjoys my heart. 
 
 K. Edw. Warwick shall be my chief est counsellor : 
 These silver hairs will more adorn my court 345 
 
 Than gaudy silks, or rich embroidery. 
 Chide me, sweet Warwick, if I go astray. 
 
 War. Slay me, my lord, when I offend your grace. 
 
 K. Edw. In solemn triumphs, and in public shows, 
 Pembroke shall bear the sword before the king. 350 
 
 Pern. And with this sword Pembroke will fight for 
 you. 
 
 K. Edw. But wherefore walks young Mortimer 
 aside ? 
 Be thou commander of our royal fleet ; 
 Or if that lofty office like thee not, 
 I make thee here Lord Marshal of the realm. 355 
 
 Y. Mor. My lord, I'll marshal so your enemies, 
 As England shall be quiet, and you safe. 
 
 K. Edw. And as for you, Lord Mortimer of Chirke, 
 Whose great achievements in our foreign war 
 Deserves no common place, nor mean reward, 360 
 Be you the general of the levied troops, 
 That now are ready to assail the Scots. 
 
 E. Mor. In this your grace hath highly honour'd me, 
 For with my nature war doth best agree. 
 
ACT I. SCENE IV. 29 
 
 Queen. Now is the King of England rich and strong, 
 Having the love of his renowned peers. 366 
 
 K. Edw. Ay, Isabel, ne'er was my heart so light. 
 Clerk of the crown, direct our warrant forth, 
 For Gaveston, to Ireland ! 
 
 Enter Beaumont with warrant. 
 
 Beaumont, fly 
 As fast as Iris or Jove's Mercury. 370 
 
 Beau. It shall be done, my gracious Lord. [Exit. 
 
 K. Ediv. Lord Mortimer, we leave you to your 
 charge. 
 Now let us in, and feast it royally. 
 Against our friend the Earl of Cornwall comes, 
 We'll have a general tilt and tournament ; 375 
 
 And then his marriage shall be solemniz'd. 
 For wot you not that I have made him sure 
 Unto our cousin, the Earl of Glocester's heir? 
 
 Lan. Such news we hear, my lord. 
 
 K. Edw. That day, if not for him, yet for my sake, 
 Who in the triumph will be challenger, 381 
 
 Spare for no cost ; we will requite your love. 
 
 War. In this or aught your highness shall com- 
 mand us. 
 K. Edw. Thanks, gentle Warwick : come let's in 
 and revel. 
 
 [Exeunt all except the elder Mortimer 
 and the younger Mortimer. 
 £. Mor. Nephew, 1 must to Scotland ; thou stay'st 
 here. 385 
 
3° EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Leave now to oppose thyself against the king. 
 Thou seest by nature he is mild and calm ; 
 And, seeing his mind so dotes on Gaveston, 
 Let him without controlment have his will. 
 The mightiest kings have had their minions : 390 
 
 Great Alexander lov'd Hephsestion, 
 The conquering Hercules for Hylas wept, 
 And for Patroclus stern Achilles droop'd : 
 And not kings only, but the wisest men ; 
 The Roman Tully lov'd Octavius, 395 
 
 Grave Socrates wild Alcibiades. 
 Then let his grace, whose youth is flexible, 
 And promiseth as much as we can wish, 
 Freely enjoy that vain light-headed earl ; 
 For riper years will wean him from such toys. 400 
 Y. Mor. Uncle, his wanton humour grieves not 
 me ; 
 But this I scorn, that one so basely born 
 Should by his sovereign's favour grow so pert, 
 And riot it with the treasure of the realm, 
 While soldiers mutiny for want of pay. 405 
 
 He wears a lord's revenue on his back, 
 And, Midas-like, he jets it in the court, 
 With base outlandish cullions at his heels, 
 Whose proud fantastic liveries make such show 
 As if that Proteus, god of shapes, appear'd. 410 
 
 I have not seen a dapper Jack so brisk ; 
 He wears a short Italian hooded cloak, 
 Larded with pearl, and in his Tuscan cap 
 A jewel of more value than the crown. 
 While others walk below, the king and he, 415 
 
 From out a window, laugh at such as we, 
 
ACT II. SCENE I. 3 1 
 
 And flout our train, and jest at our attire. 
 Uncle, 'tis this that makes me impatient. 
 
 E. Mor. But, nephew, now you see the king is 
 
 chang'd. 
 Y. Mor. Then so am I, and live to do him service : 
 But whiles I have a sword, a hand, a heart, 421 
 
 I will not yield to any such upstart. 
 You know my mind : come, uncle, let's away. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. A Hall in the Earl of Glocester's Castle. 
 Enter the younger Spenser and Baldock. 
 
 Bald. Spenser, 
 Seeing that our lord the Earl of Glocester's dead, 
 Which of the nobles dost thou mean to serve ? 
 
 Y. Spen. Not Mortimer, nor any of his side, 
 Because the king and he are enemies. 5 
 
 Baldock, learn this of me: a factious lord 
 Shall hardly do himself good, much less us ; 
 But he that hath the favour of a king 
 May with one word advance us while we live. 
 The liberal Earl of Cornwall is the man 10 
 
 On whose good fortune Spenser's hope depends. 
 
 Bald. What, mean you, then, to be his follower? 
 
 Y. Spen. No, his companion ; for he loves me well, 
 And would have once preferr'd me to the king. 
 
 Bald. But he is banish'd ; there's small hope of 
 him. 15 
 
32 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Y. Spen. Ay, for a while ; but, Baldock, mark the 
 end. 
 A friend of mine told me in secrecy 
 That he's repeal'd, and sent for back again ; 
 And even now a post came from the court 
 With letters to our lady from the king ; 20 
 
 And as she read she smil'd ; which makes me think 
 It is about her lover Gaveston. 
 
 Bald. 'Tis like enough ; for since he was exil'd 
 She neither walks abroad, nor comes in sight. 
 But I had thought the match had been broke off, 25 
 And that his banishment had changed her mind. 
 
 Y. Spen. Our lady's first love is not wavering ; 
 My life for thine she will have Gaveston. 
 
 Bald. Then hope I by her means to be preferr'd, 
 Having read unto her since she was a child. 30 
 
 Y. Spen. Then, Baldock, you must cast the scholar 
 off, 
 And learn to court it like a gentleman. 
 'Tis not a black coat and a little band, 
 A velvet cap'd cloak, fac'd before with serge, 
 And smelling to a nosegay all the day, 35 
 
 Or holding of a napkin in your hand, 
 Or saying a long grace at a table's end, 
 Or making low legs to a nobleman, 
 Or looking downward with your eyelids close, 
 And saying, " Truly, an't may please your honour," 40 
 Can get you any favour with great men : 
 You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute, 
 And now and then stab, as occasion serves. 
 
 Bald. Spenser, thou know'st I hate such formal toys, 
 
ACT II. SCENE I. 33 
 
 And use them but of mere hypocrisy. 45 
 
 Mine old lord whiles he liv'd was so precise, 
 
 That he would take exceptions at my buttons, 
 
 And, being like pins' heads, blame me for the bigness ; 
 
 Which made me curate-like in mine attire, 
 
 Though inwardly licentious enough, 50 
 
 And apt for any kind of villany. 
 
 I am none of these common pedants, I, 
 
 That cannot speak without propterea quod. 
 
 Y. Spen. But one of those that saith, quandoquidem, 
 And hath a special gift to form a verb. 55 
 
 Bald. Leave off this jesting ; here my lady comes. 
 
 Enter King Edward's Niece. 
 
 Niece. The grief for his exile was not so much 
 As is the joy of his returning home. 
 This letter came from my sweet Gaveston : 
 What need'st thou, love, thus to excuse thyself ? 60 
 I know thou couldst not come and visit me : 
 / will not long be from thee, though I die ; — [Reads. 
 This argues the entire love of my lord ; — 
 When I forsake thee, death seize on my heart! — [Reads. 
 But stay thee here where Gaveston shall sleep. 65 
 [Puts the letter into her bosom. 
 Now to the letter of my lord the king. — 
 He wills me to repair unto the court, 
 And meet my Gaveston : why do I stay, 
 Seeing that he talks thus of my marriage day? — 
 Who's there ? Baldock ! 70 
 
 See that my coach be ready, I must hence. 
 
 Bald. It shall be done, madam. [Exit Baldock. 
 
34 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Niece. And meet me at the park-pale presently. 
 Spenser, stay you and bear me company, 
 For I have joyful news to tell thee of ; 75 
 
 My lord of Cornwall is a-coming over, 
 And will be at the court as soon as we. 
 
 Spen. I knew the king would have him home again. 
 
 Niece. If all things sort out, as I hope they will, 
 Thy service, Spenser, shall be thought upon. 80 
 
 Spen. I humbly thank your ladyship. 
 
 Niece. Come, lead the way ; I long till I am there. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. Tynmouth Castle. 
 
 Enter King Edward, Queen Isabella, Kent, 
 Lancaster, the younger Mortimer, Warwick, 
 Pembroke, and Attendants. 
 
 K. Edw. The wind is good, I wonder why he 
 stays ; 
 I fear me he is wreck'd upon the sea. 
 
 Q. Isab. Look, Lancaster, how passionate he is, 
 And still his mind runs on his minion ! 
 
 Lan. My lord, 5 
 
 K. Edw. How now ! what news ? is Gaveston 
 
 arrived ? 
 Y. Mor. Nothing but Gaveston ! what means your 
 grace ? 
 You have matters of more weight to think upon ; 
 The King of France sets foot in Normandy. 
 K. Edw. A trifle ! we'll expel him when we 
 please. 10 
 
ACT II. SCENE II. 35 
 
 But tell me, Mortimer, what's thy device 
 Against the stately triumph we decreed ? 
 
 Y. Mor. A homely one, my lord ; not worth the 
 telling. 
 
 K. Edw. Pray thee, let me know it. 
 
 Y. Mor. But, seeing you're so desirous, thus it 
 is : 15 
 
 A lofty cedar-tree, fair flourishing, 
 On whose top-branches kingly eagles perch, 
 And by the bark a canker creeps me up, 
 And gets into the highest bough of all ; 
 The motto, sEqne tandem. 20 
 
 K. Edw. And what is yours, my lord of Lan- 
 caster ? 
 
 Lan. My lord, mine's more obscure than Morti- 
 mer's. 
 Pliny reports there is a flying-fish 
 Which all the other fishes deadly hate, 
 And therefore, being pursu'd, it takes the air : 25 
 
 No sooner is it up, but there's a fowl 
 That seizeth it : this fish, my lord, I bear ; 
 The motto this : Undique mors est. 
 
 Kent. Proud Mortimer ! ungentle Lancaster ! 
 Is this the love you bear your sovereign ? 30 
 
 Is this the fruit your reconcilement bears ? 
 Can you in words make show of amity, 
 And in your shields display your rancorous minds ? 
 What call you this but private libelling 
 Against the Earl of Cornwall and my brother ? 35 
 
 Q. Isab. Sweet husband, be content, they all love 
 you. 
 
3 6 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 K. Edw. They love me not that hate my Gaves- 
 ton. 
 I am that cedar ; shake me not too much ; 
 And you the eagles ; soar ye ne'er so high, 
 I have the jesses that will pull you down ; 40 
 
 And sEque tandem shall that canker cry 
 Unto the proudest peer of Britainy. 
 Though thou compar'st him to a flying-fish, 
 And threat'nest death whether he rise or fall, 
 'Tis not the hugest monster of the sea, 45 
 
 Nor foulest harpy, that shall swallow him. 
 
 Y. Mor. If in his absence thus he favours him, 
 What will he do whenas he shall be present ? 
 
 Lan. That shall we see ; look where his lordship 
 comes ! 
 
 Enter Gaveston. 
 
 K. Edw. My Gaveston ! 50 
 
 Welcome to Tynmouth ! welcome to thy friend ! 
 Thy absence made me droop and pine away ; 
 For, as the lovers of fair Danae, 
 When she was lock'd up in a brazen tower, 
 Desir'd her more, and wax'd outrageous, 55 
 
 So did it fare with me : and now thy sight 
 Is sweeter far than was thy parting hence 
 Bitter and irksome to my sobbing heart. 
 
 Gav. Sweet lord and king, your speech preventeth 
 mine ; 
 Yet have I words left to express my joy : 60 
 
 The shepherd, nipt with biting winter's rage, 
 Frolics not more to see the painted spring, 
 Than I do to behold your majesty. 
 
ACT II. SCENE II. 37 
 
 K. Edw. Will none of you salute my Gaveston ? 
 
 Lan. Salute him ! yes. — Welcome, Lord Chamber- 
 
 lain ! 65 
 
 Y. Mor. Welcome is the good Earl of Cornwall ! 
 
 War. Welcome, Lord Governor of the Isle of 
 
 Man ! 
 Pern. Welcome, Master Secretary ! 
 Kent. Brother, do you hear them ? 
 K. Edw. Still will these earls and barons use me 
 
 thus. 70 
 
 Gav. My lord, I cannot brook these injuries. 
 
 Q. Isab. Ay me, poor soul, when these begin to 
 
 jar ! [Aside. 
 
 K. Edw. Return it to their throats ; I'll be thy 
 
 warrant. 
 Gav. Base, leaden earls, that glory in your birth, 
 Go sit at home and eat your tenants' beef ; 75 
 
 And come not here to scoff at Gaveston, 
 Whose mounting thoughts did never creep so low 
 As to bestow a look on such as you. 
 Lan. Yet I disdain not to do this for you. 
 
 [Draws his sword, and offers to stab Gaveston. 
 
 K. Edw. Treason ! treason ! where's the traitor ? 
 
 Pern. Here ! here ! 81 
 
 K. Edw. Convey hence Gaveston ; they'll murder 
 
 him. 
 
 Gav. The life of thee shall salve this foul disgrace. 
 Y. Mor. Villain ! thy life, unless I miss my aim. 
 
 [ Wounds Gaveston. 
 
3 8 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Q. Isab. Ah ! furious Mortimer, what hast thou 
 done ? 85 
 
 Y. Mor. No more than I would answer, were he 
 slain. [Exit Gaveston, with Attendants. 
 
 K. Edw. Yes, more than thou canst answer, though 
 he live ; 
 Dear shall you both abide this riotous deed. 
 Out of my presence, come not near the court ! 
 
 Y. Mor. I'll not be barr'd the court for Gaveston. 
 Lan. We'll hale him by the ears unto the block. 91 
 K. Edw. Look to your own heads ; his is sure 
 enough. 
 
 War. Look to your own crown, if you back him 
 
 thus. 
 Kent. Warwick, these words do ill beseem thy years. 
 K. Edw. Nay, all of them conspire to cross me 
 thus ; 95 
 
 But if I live, I'll tread upon their heads 
 That think with high looks thus to tread me down. 
 Come, Edmund, let's away and levy men, 
 'Tis war that must abate these barons' pride. 
 
 [Exeunt King Edward, Queen Isa- 
 bella, and Kent. 
 War. Let's to our castles, for the king is mov'd. 
 Y. Mor. Mov'd may he be, and perish in his 
 wrath ! 101 
 
 Lan. Cousin, it is no dealing with him now ; 
 He means to make us stoop by force of arms ; 
 And therefore let us jointly here protest, 
 To prosecute that Gaveston to the death. 105 
 
ACT II. SCENE II. 39 
 
 Y. Mor. By heaven, the abject villain shall not 
 live ! 
 
 War. I'll have his blood, or die in seeking it. 
 
 Pern. The like oath Pembroke takes. 
 
 L lUU And so doth Lancaster. 
 
 Now send our heralds to defy the king ; 
 And make the people swear to put him down. no 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Y. Mor. Letters ! from whence ? 
 
 Mes. From Scotland, my lord. 
 
 [Giving letters to Mortimer. 
 
 Lan. Why, how now, cousin, how fare all our 
 friends ? 
 
 Y. Mor. My uncle's taken prisoner by the Scots. 
 
 Lan. We'll have him ransom'd, man ; be of good 
 cheer. 
 
 Y. Mor. They rate his ransom at five thousand 
 pound. IJ 5 
 
 Who should defray the money but the king, 
 Seeing he is taken prisoner in his wars ? 
 I'll to the king. 
 
 Lan. Do, cousin, and I'll bear thee company. 
 
 War. Meantime, my lord of Pembroke and myself 
 Will to Newcastle here, and gather head. 121 
 
 Y. Mor. About it then, and we will follow you. 
 
 Lan. Be resolute and full of secrecy. 
 
 War. I warrant you. [Exit with Pembroke. 
 
 Y. Mor. Cousin, and if he will not ranson him, 
 
40 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 I'll thunder such a peal into his ears, 126 
 
 As never subject did unto his king. 
 
 Lan. Content, I'll bear my part. — Holla ! who's 
 there ? 
 
 Enter Guard. 
 
 Y. Mor. Ay, marry, such a guard as this doth well. 
 
 Lan. Lead on the way. 130 
 
 Guard. Whither will your lordships ? 
 
 Y. Mor. Whither else but to the king. 
 
 Guard. His highness is dispos'd to be alone. 
 
 Lan. Why, so he may ; but we will speak to him. 
 
 Guard. You may not in, my lord. 
 
 Y. Mor. ( May we not ? 
 
 Enter King Edward and Kent. 
 
 K. Edw. How now ! 135 
 
 What noise is this ? Who have we there ? is 't you ? 
 
 [Going. 
 Y. Mor. Nay, stay, my lord ; I come to bring you 
 news ; 
 Mine uncle's taken prisoner by the Scots. 
 K. Edw. Then ransom him. 
 
 Lan. 'Twas in your wars ; you should ransom 
 him. 140 
 
 Y. Mor. And you shall ransom him, or else 
 
 Kent. What ! Mortimer, you will not threaten him ? 
 K. Edw. Quiet yourself, you shall have the broad 
 seal, 
 To gather for him throughout the realm. 
 
ACT II. SCENE II. 4 1 
 
 Lan. Your minion Gaveston hath taught you this. 
 
 Y. Mor. My lord, the family of the Mortimers 146 
 Are not so poor, but, would they sell their land, 
 'Twould levy men enough to anger you. 
 We never beg, but use such prayers as these. 
 
 K. Edw. Shall I still be haunted thus? 150 
 
 Y. Mor. Nay, now you are here alone, I'll speak 
 my mind. 
 
 Lan. And so will I ; and then, my lord, farewell. 
 
 Y. Mor. The idle triumphs, masques, lascivious 
 shows, 
 And prodigal gifts bestow'd on Gaveston, 
 Have drawn thy treasury dry, and made thee weak ; 
 The murmuring commons, overstretched, break. 156 
 
 Lan. Look for rebellion, look to be depos'd ; 
 Thy garrisons are beaten out of France, 
 And, lame and poor, lie groaning at the gates. 
 The wild Oneil, with swarms of Irish kerns, 160 
 
 Lives uncontroll'd within the English pale. 
 Unto the walls of York the Scots make road, 
 And, unresisted, drive away rich spoils. 
 
 Y. Mor. The haughty Dane commands the nar- 
 row seas, 
 While in the harbour ride thy ships unrigg'd. 165 
 
 Lan. What foreign prince sends thee ambassadors ? 
 
 Y. Mor. Who loves thee, but a sort of flatterers ? 
 
 Lan. Thy gentle queen, sole sister to Valois, 
 Complains that thou hast left her all forlorn. 
 
 Y. Mor. Thy court is naked, being bereft of those 
 That make a king seem glorious to the world, 171 
 
42 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 I mean the peers, whom thou should'st dearly love : 
 Libels are cast again thee in the street ; 
 Ballads and rhymes made of thy overthrow. 
 
 Lan. The Northern borderers seeing their houses 
 burnt, 175 
 
 Their wives and children slain, run up and down, 
 Cursing the name of thee and Gaveston. 
 
 Y. Mor. When wert thou in the field with banner 
 spread 
 But once ? and then thy soldiers march'd like players, 
 With garish robes, not armour ; and thyself, 180 
 
 Bedaub'd with gold, rode laughing at the rest, 
 Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest, 
 Where women's favours hung like labels down. 
 
 Lan. And thereof came it, that the fleering Scots, 
 To England's high disgrace, have made this jig ; 185 
 
 Maids of England, sore may you mourn , 
 
 For your lemans you have lost at Bannocksbourn, 
 
 With a heave and a ho ! 
 What weeneth the King of England 
 So soon to have won Scotland ' ? 190 
 
 With a rombeloiu ! 
 
 Y. Mor. Wigmore shall fly, to set my uncle free. 
 Lan. And when 'tis gone, our swords shall pur- 
 chase more. 
 If ye be mov'd, revenge it as you can ; 
 Look next to see us with our ensigns spread. 195 
 
 [Exit with Y. Mortimer. 
 K. Edw. My swelling heart for very anger breaks : 
 How oft have I been baited by these peers, 
 
ACT II. SCENE II. 43 
 
 And dare not be reveng'd, for their power is great ! 
 
 Yet, shall the crowing of these cockerels 
 
 Affright a lion ? Edward, unfold thy paws, 200 
 
 And let their lives'-blood slake thy fury's hunger. 
 
 If I be cruel and grow tyrannous, 
 
 Now let them thank themselves, and rue too late. 
 
 Kent. My lord, I see your love to Gaveston 
 Will be the ruin of the realm and you, 205 
 
 For now the wrathful nobles threaten wars, 
 And therefore, brother, banish him for ever. 
 
 K. Edw. Art thou an enemy to my Gaveston ? 
 
 Kent. Ay, and it grieves me that I favour d him. 
 
 K. Edw. Traitor, be gone ! whine thou with Mor- 
 timer. 210 
 
 Kent. So will I, rather than with Gaveston. 
 
 K. Edw. Out of my sight, and trouble me no more ! 
 
 Kent. No marvel though thou scorn thy noble 
 peers, 
 When I thy brother am rejected thus. [Exit Kent. 
 
 K. Edw. Away J 215 
 
 Poor Gaveston, that hast no friend but me ! 
 Do what they can, we'll live in Tynmouth here, 
 And, so I walk with him about the walls, 
 What care I though the earls begirt us round ? 
 Here comes she that is cause of all these jars. 220 
 
 Efiter Queen Isabella, with King Edward's Niece, 
 two Ladies, Gaveston, Baldock, and the younger 
 Spenser. 
 
 Q. Isab. My lord, 'tis thought the earls are up in 
 arms. 
 
44 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 K. Edw. Ay, and 'tis likewise thought you favour 
 'em. 
 
 Q. Isab. Thus do you still suspect me without 
 cause. 
 
 Niece. Sweet uncle, speak more kindly to the queen. 
 
 Gav. My lord, dissemble with her, speak her fair. 
 
 K. Edw. Pardon me, sweet, I forgot myself. 226 
 
 Q. Isab. Your pardon is quickly got of Isabel. 
 
 K. Edw. The younger Mortimer is grown so brave, 
 That to my face he threatens civil wars. 
 
 Gav. Why do you not commit him to the Tower? 
 
 K. Edw. I dare not, for the people love him well. 
 
 Gav. Why, then, we'll have him privily made away. 
 
 K. Edw. Would Lancaster and he had both ca- 
 rous'd 
 A bowl of poison to each other's health ! 
 But let them go, and tell me what are these. 235 
 
 Niece. Two of my father's servants whilst he 
 liv'd — 
 May't please your grace to entertain them now. 
 
 K. Edw. Tell me, where wast thou born ? What 
 is thine arms ? 
 
 Bald. My name is Baldock, and my gentry 
 I fetch from Oxford, not from heraldry. 240 
 
 K. Edw. The fitter art thou, Baldock, for my turn. 
 Wait on me, and I'll see thou shalt not want. 
 
 Bald. I humbly thank your majesty. 
 
 K. Edw. Knowest thou him, Gaveston ? 
 
ACT II. SCENE III. 45 
 
 Gav. Ay, my lord ; 
 
 His name is Spenser ; he is well allied ; 245 
 
 For my sake, let him wait upon your grace ; 
 Scarce shall you find a man of more desert. 
 
 K. Edw. Then, Spenser, wait upon me, for his 
 sake : 
 I'll grace thee with a higher style ere long. 
 
 Y. Spen. No greater titles happen unto me, 250 
 Than to be favour'd of your majesty ! 
 
 K. Edw. Cousin, this day shall be your marriage 
 feast : — 
 And, Gaveston, think that I love thee well, 
 To wed thee to our niece, the only heir 
 Unto the Earl of Glocester late deceas'd. 255 
 
 Gav. I know, my lord, many will stomach me ; 
 But I respect neither their love nor hate. 
 
 K. Edw. The headstrong barons shall not limit 
 me ; 
 He that I list to favour shall be great. 
 Come, let's away ; and when the marriage ends, 260 
 Have at the rebels and their complices ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. The Barons Camp before Tynmouth Castle. 
 
 Enter Kent, Lancaster, the yowiger Mortimer, 
 Warwick, Pembroke, and others. 
 
 Kent. My lords, of love to this our native land, 
 I come to join with you and leave the king ; 
 And in your quarrel, and the realm's behoof, 
 Will be the first that shall adventure life. 
 
46 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Lan. I fear me, you are sent of policy, 5 
 
 To undermine us with a show of love. 
 
 War. He is your brother ; therefore have we cause 
 To cast the worst, and doubt of your revolt. 
 
 Kent. Mine honour shall be hostage of my truth : 
 If that will not suffice, farewell, my lords. 10 
 
 Y. Mor. Stay, Edmund ; never was Plantagenet 
 False of his word, and therefore trust we thee. 
 
 Pent. But what's the reason you should leave him 
 now ? 
 
 Kent. I have inform'd the Earl of Lancaster. 
 
 Lan. And it sufficeth. Now, my lords, know this, 
 That Gaveston is secretly arriv'd, - 16 
 
 And here in Tynmouth frolics with the king. 
 Let us with these our followers scale the walls, 
 And suddenly surprise them unawares. 
 
 Y. Mor. I'll give the onset. 
 
 War. And I'll follow thee. 20 
 
 Y. Mor. This totter'd ensign of my ancestors, 
 Which swept the desert shore of that Dead Sea, ^ 
 Whereof we got the name of Mortimer, 
 Will I advance upon this castle's walls. — 
 Drums, strike alarum, raise them from their sport, 25 
 And ring aloud the knell of Gaveston ! 
 
 Lan. None be so hardy as to touch the king; 
 But neither spare you Gaveston nor his friends. 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
ACT //. SCENE IV. 47 
 
 Scene IV. Within Tynmouth Castle. 
 
 Enter, severally, King Edward and the younger 
 Spenser. 
 
 K. Edw. O tell me, Spenser, where is Gaveston ? 
 Spen. I fear me he is slain, my gracious lord. 
 K. Edw. No, here he comes ; now let them spoil 
 and kill. 
 
 Enter Queen Isabella, King Edward's Niece, 
 
 Gaveston, and Nobles. 
 
 Fly, fly, my lords ; the earls have got the hold ; 
 Take shipping and away to Scarborough ; 5 
 
 Spenser and I will post away by land. 
 
 Gav. O stay, my lord ! they will not injure you. 
 
 K. Edw. I will not trust them. Gaveston, away ! 
 
 Gav. Farewell, my lord. 
 
 K. Edw. Lady, farewell. 
 
 Niece. Farewell, sweet uncle, till we meet again. 10 
 
 K. Edw. Farewell, sweet Gaveston ; and farewell, 
 niece. 
 
 Q. Isab. No farewell to poor Isabel thy queen ? 
 
 K. Edit'. Yes, yes, for Mortimer, your lover's sake. 
 [Exeunt all except Queen Isabella. 
 
 Q. Isab. Heavens can witness, I love none but 
 you. 
 From my embracements thus he breaks away. 15 
 
 O that mine arms could close this isle about, 
 That I might pull him to me where I would ! 
 Or that these tears, that drizzle from mine eyes, 
 
4 8 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Had power to mollify his stony heart, 
 
 That when I had him we might never part ! 20 
 
 Enter Lancaster, Warwick, the younger Mortimer, 
 and others. Alarums within. 
 
 Lan. I wonder how he scap'd ! 
 
 Y. Mor. Who's this ? the queen ! 
 
 Q. Isab. Ay, Mortimer, the miserable queen, 
 Whose pining heart her inward sighs have blasted, 
 And body with continual mourning wasted : 
 These hands are tir'd with haling of my lord 25 
 
 From Gaveston, from wicked Gaveston ; 
 And all in vain ; for, when I speak him fair, 
 He turns away, and smiles upon his minion. 
 
 Y. Mor. Cease to lament, and tell us where's the 
 king ? 
 
 Q. Isab. What would you with the king ? is't him 
 you seek? 30 
 
 Lan. No, madam, but that cursed Gaveston. 
 Far be it from the thought of Lancaster 
 To offer violence to his sovereign ! 
 We would but rid the realm of Gaveston : 
 Tell us where he remains, and he shall die. 35 
 
 Q. Isab. He's gone by water unto Scarborough ; 
 Pursue him quickly and he cannot scape ; 
 The king hath left him, and his train is small. 
 
 War. Forslow no time, sweet Lancaster ; let's 
 march. 
 
 Y. Mor. How comes it that the king and he is 
 parted ? 40 
 
ACT II. SCENE IV. 49 
 
 Q. Isab. That thus your army, going several ways, 
 Might be of lesser force, and with the power 
 That he intendeth presently to raise, 
 Be easily suppress'd ; therefore be gone. 
 
 Y. Mor. Here in the river rides a Flemish hoy ; 
 Let's all aboard, and follow him amain. 46 
 
 Ian. . The wind that bears him hence will fill our 
 sails : 
 Come, come aboard, 'tis but an hour's sailing. 
 
 Y. Mor. Madam, stay you within this castle here. 
 
 Q. Isab. No, Mortimer ; I'll to my lord the king. 
 
 Y. Mor. Nay, rather sail with us to Scarborough. 
 
 Q. Isab. You know the king is so suspicious 
 As if he hear I have but talk'd with you, 
 Mine honour will be call'd in question ; 
 And therefore, gentle Mortimer, be gone. 55 
 
 Y. Mor. Madam, I cannot stay to answer you ; 
 But think of Mortimer as he deserves. 
 
 [Exeunt all except Queen Isabella. 
 
 Q. Isab. So well hast thou deserved, sweet Morti- 
 mer, 
 As Isabel could live with thee for ever. 
 In vain I look for love at Edward's hand, 60 
 
 Whose eyes are fix'd on none but Gaveston. 
 Yet once more I'll importune him with prayer ; 
 If he be strange and not regard my words, 
 My son and I will over into France, 
 And to the king my brother there complain, 65 
 
 How Gaveston hath robb'd me of his love : 
 But yet I hope my sorrows will have end, 
 And Gaveston this blessed day be slain. [Exit. 
 
50 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Scene V. Country near Scarborough Castle. 
 
 Enter Gaveston, pursued. 
 
 Gav. Yet, lusty lords, I have escap'd your hands, 
 Your threats, your 'larums, and your hot pursuits ; 
 And though divorced from King Edward's eyes, 
 Yet liveth Pierce of Gaveston unsurpris'd, 
 Breathing, in hope (malgrado all your beards, 5 
 
 That muster rebels thus against your king) 
 To see his royal sovereign once again. 
 
 Enter Warwick, Lancaster, Pembroke, the younger 
 Mortimer, Soldiers, James and other Attendants 
 of Pembroke. 
 
 War. Upon him, soldiers ! take away his weapons ! 
 
 Y. Mor. Thou proud disturber of thy country's 
 peace, 
 Corrupter of thy king, cause of these broils, 10 
 
 Base flatterer, yield ! and, were it not for shame, 
 Shame and dishonour to a soldier's name, 
 Upon my weapon's point here should'st thou fall, 
 And welter in thy gore. 
 
 Lan. Monster of men, 
 
 That, like the Greekish strumpet, train'd to arms 15 
 And bloody wars so many valiant knights, 
 Look for no other fortune, wretch, than death ! 
 King Edward is not here to buckler thee. 
 
 War. Lancaster, why talk'st thou to the slave ? 
 
 Go, soldiers, take him hence; for by my sword 20 
 
ACT II SCENE V. 51 
 
 His head shall off. — Gaveston, short warning 
 Shall serve thy turn : it is our country's cause, 
 That here severely we will execute 
 Upon thy person. Hang him at a bough. 
 
 Gav. My lord, — 
 
 War. Soldiers, have him away. — 25 
 
 But for thou wert the favourite of a king, 
 Thou shalt have so much honour at our hands. 
 
 Gav. I thank you all, my lords : then I perceive 
 That heading is one, and hanging is the other, 
 And death is all . 
 
 Enter Arundel. 
 
 Lan. How now, my lord of Arundel ! 30 
 
 Arim. My lords, King Edward greets you all by 
 me. 
 
 War. Arundel, say your message. 
 
 Aran. His majesty, hearing that you had taken 
 Gaveston, 
 Entreateth you by me, yet but he may 
 See him before he dies ; for why, he says, 35 
 
 And sends you word, he knows that die he shall ; 
 And if you gratify his grace so far, 
 He will be mindful of the courtesy. 
 
 War. How now ? 
 
 Gav. Renowmed Edward, how thy name 
 
 Revives poor Gaveston ! 
 
 War. No, it needeth not ; 40 
 
 Arundel, we will gratify the king 
 
52 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 In other matters ; he must pardon us in this. — 
 Soldiers, away with him ! 
 
 Gav. Why, my lord of Warwick, 
 
 Will not these delays beget my hopes ? 
 I know it, lords, it is this life you aim at ; 45 
 
 Yet grant King Edward this. 
 
 Y. Mor. Shalt thou appoint 
 
 What we shall grant? — Soldiers, away with him ! 
 Thus we'll gratify the king ; [To Arundel. 
 
 We'll send his head by thee ; let him bestow 
 His tears on that, for that is all he gets 50 
 
 Of Gaveston, or else his senseless trunk. 
 
 Lan. Not so, my lords, lest he bestow more cost 
 In burying him, than he hath ever earn'd. 
 
 Arun. My lords, it is his majesty's request, 
 And in the honour of a king he swears, 55 
 
 He will but talk with him, and send him back, 
 
 War. When, can you tell ? Arundel, no ; we 
 wot, 
 He that the care of his realm remits, 
 And drives his nobles to these exigents 
 For Gaveston, will, if he sees him once, 60 
 
 Violate any promise to possess him. 
 
 Arun. Then if you will not trust his grace in 
 keep, 
 My lords, I will be pledge for his return. 
 
 Y. Mor. 'Tis honourable in thee to offer this ; 
 But for we know thou art a noble gentleman, 65 
 
 We will not wrong thee so, 
 To make away a true man for a thief. 
 
ACT II SCENE V. 53 
 
 Gav. How mean'st thou, Mortimer ? that is over- 
 base. 
 
 Y. Mor. Away, base groom, robber of king's re- 
 nown ! 
 Question with thy companions and mates, 70 
 
 Pern. My Lord Mortimer, and you, my lords, each 
 one, 
 To gratify the king's request therein, 
 Touching the sending of this Gaveston, 
 Because his majesty so earnestly 
 
 Desires to see the man before his death, 75 
 
 I will upon mine honour undertake 
 To carry him, and bring him back again ; 
 Provided this, that you, my lord of Arundel, 
 Will join with me. 
 
 War. Pembroke, what wilt thou do ? 
 
 Cause yet more bloodshed ? is it not enough 80 
 
 That we have taken him, but must we now 
 Leave him on "had I wist," and let him go? 
 
 Pern. My lords, I will not over-woo your honours, 
 But if you dare trust Pembroke with the prisoner, 
 Upon mine oath, I will return him back. 85 
 
 Arun. My lord of Lancaster, what say you in this ? 
 
 Lan. Why, I say, let him go on Pembroke's word. 
 
 Pern. And you, Lord Mortimer ? 
 
 Y. Mor. How say you, my lord of Warwick ? 
 
 War. Nay, do your pleasures, I know how 'twill 
 prove. 
 
 Pern. Then give him me. 
 
54 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Gav. Sweet sovereign, yet I come 
 
 To see thee ere I die. 
 
 War. Yet not perhaps, 91 
 
 If Warwick's wit and policy prevail. [Aside. 
 
 Y. Mor. My lord of Pembroke, we deliver him you ; 
 Return him on your honour. Sound, away ! 
 
 [Exeunt all except Pembroke, Arundel, 
 Gaveston, James, and other Attend- 
 ants of Pembroke. 
 
 Pern. My lord, you shall go with me. 95 
 
 My house is not far hence ; out of the way 
 A little ; but our men shall go along. 
 We that have pretty wenches to our wives, 
 Sir, must not come so near to balk their lips. 
 
 Arun. 'Tis very kindly spoke, my lord of Pembroke; 
 Your honour hath an adamant of power 101 
 
 To draw a prince. 
 
 Pern. So, my lord. — Come hither, James : 
 
 I do commit this Gaveston to thee ; 
 Be thou this night his keeper ; in the morning 
 We will discharge thee of thy charge ; be gone. 105 
 
 Gav. Unhappy Gaveston, whither go'st thou now ?■ 
 [Exit with James and other Attendants 
 of Pembroke. 
 
 Horse-boy. My lord, we'll quickly be at Cobham. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
ACT III. SCENE J. 55 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. Country near Deddington. 
 
 Enter Gaveston mourning, James and other Attendants 
 of Pembroke. 
 
 Gav. O treacherous Warwick, thus to wrong thy 
 friend ! 
 
 James. I see it is your life these arms pursue. 
 
 Gav. Weaponless must I fall, and die in bands ? 
 Oh ! must this day be period of my life, 
 Centre of all my bliss ? An ye be men, 5 
 
 Speed to the king. 
 
 Enter Warwick and Soldiers. 
 
 War. My lord of Pembroke's men, 
 
 Strive you no longer : I will have that Gaveston. 
 
 James. Your lordship doth dishonour to yourself, 
 And wrong our lord, your honourable friend. 
 
 War. No, James, it is my country's cause I follow. — 
 Go, take the villain ; soldiers, come away ; 11 
 
 We'll make quick work. — Commend me to your master, 
 My friend, and tell him that I watch'd it well. 
 Come, let thy shadow parley with King Edward. 
 
 Gav. Treacherous earl, shall not I see the king ? 15 
 
 War. The King of heaven perhaps, no other king. — 
 Away ! 
 
 [Exeunt Warwick and' Soldiers with 
 Gaveston. 
 
 James. Come, fellows ; it booted not for us to strive; 
 We will in haste go certify our lord. [Exeunt. 
 
5© EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Scene II. King's camp, near B or oughbridge, Yorkshire. 
 
 Enter King Edward, the younger Spenser, Baldock, 
 Noblemen of the kings side, and Soldiers with 
 drums and fifes. 
 
 K. Edw. I long to hear an answer from the barons 
 Touching my friend, my dearest Gaveston. 
 Ah, Spenser, not the riches of my realm 
 Can ransom him ! ah, he is mark'd to die ! 
 I know the malice of the younger Mortimer ; 5 
 
 Warwick I know is rough, and Lancaster 
 Inexorable, and I shall never see 
 My lovely Pierce of Gaveston again : 
 The barons overbear me with their pride. 
 
 Y. Spen. Were I King Edward, England's sover- 
 eign, 10 
 Son to the lovely Eleanor of Spain, 
 Great Edward Longshanks' issue, would I bear 
 These braves, this rage, and suffer uncontroll'd 
 These barons thus to beard me in my land, 
 In mine own realm ? My lord, pardon my speech ; 15 
 Did you retain your father's magnanimity, 
 Did you regard the honour of your name, 
 You would not suffer thus your majesty 
 Be counterbuff'd of your nobility. 
 Strike off their heads, and let them preach on poles : 
 No doubt, such lessons they will teach the rest, 21 
 As by their preachments they will profit much, 
 And learn obedience to their lawful king. 
 
 K. Edw. Yea, gentle Spenser, we have been too 
 mild, 
 
ACT III. SCENE II. 57 
 
 Too kind to them ; but now have drawn our sword, 
 And if they send me not my Gaveston, 26 
 
 We'll steel it on their crest, and poll their tops 
 
 Bald. This haught resolve becomes your majesty, 
 Not to be tied to their affection, 
 
 As though your highness were a schoolboy still, 30 
 And must be aw'd and govern'd like a child. 
 
 Enter the elder Spenser, with his truncheon, and 
 Soldiers. 
 
 E. Spen. Long live my sovereign, the noble Edward, 
 In peace triumphant, fortunate in wars ! 
 
 K. Edw. Welcome, old man ; com'st thou in Ed- 
 ward's aid ? 
 Then tell thy prince of whence, and what thou art. 35 
 
 E. Spen. Lo, with a band of bow-men and of pikes, 
 Brown bills and targeters, four hundred strong, 
 Sworn to defend King Edward's royal right, 
 I come in person to your majesty, 
 Spenser, the father of Hugh Spenser there, 40 
 
 Bound to your highness everlastingly 
 For favour done, in him, unto us all. 
 
 K. Edw. Thy father, Spenser ? 
 
 Y. Spen. True, an it like your grace, 
 
 That pours, in lieu of all your goodness shown, 
 His life, my lord, before your princely feet. 45 
 
 K. Edw. Welcome ten thousand times, old man, 
 again. 
 Spenser, this love, this kindness to thy king, 
 Argues thy noble mind and disposition. 
 Spenser, I here create thee Earl of Wiltshire, 
 
5 8 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 And daily will enrich thee with our favour, 50 
 
 That, as the sun-shine, shall reflect o'er thee. 
 Beside, the more to manifest our love, 
 Because we hear Lord. Bruce doth sell his land, 
 And that the Mortimers are in hand withal, 
 Thou shalt have crowns of us t' outbid the barons ; 
 And, Spenser, spare them not, lay it on. 56 
 
 Soldiers, a largess, and thrice welcome all ! 
 Y. Spen. My lord, here comes the queen. 
 
 Enter Queen Isabella, Prince Edward, atid 
 Levune. 
 
 K. Edw. Madam, what news? 
 
 Q. Isab. News of dishonour, lord, and discontent. 
 Our friend Levune, faithful and full of trust, 60 
 
 Informeth us, by letters and by words, 
 That Lord Vaiois our brother, King of France, 
 Because your highness hath been slack in homage, 
 Hath seized Normandy into his hands. 
 These be the letters, this the messenger. 65 
 
 K. Edw. Welcome, Levune. — Tush, Sib, if this be 
 all, 
 Vaiois and I will soon be friends again. — 
 But to my Gaveston : shall I never see, 
 Never behold thee now ? — Madam, in this matter 
 We will employ you and your little son ; 70 
 
 You shall go parley with the King of France. — 
 Boy, see you bear you bravely to the king, 
 And do your message with a majesty. 
 
 P. Edw. Commit not to my youth things of more 
 weight 
 
ACT III. SCENE II. 59 
 
 Than fits a prince so young as I to bear ; 75 
 
 And fear not, lord and father, — heaven's great beams 
 On Atlas' shoulder shall not lie more safe 
 Than shall your charge committed to my trust. 
 
 Q. Isab. Ah, boy ! this towardness makes thy 
 mother fear 
 Thou art not mark'd to many days on earth. 80 
 
 K. Edw. Madam, we will that you with speed be 
 shipp'd, 
 And this our son ; Levune shall follow you 
 With all the haste we can despatch him hence. 
 Choose of our lords to bear you company ; 
 And go in peace ; leave us in wars at home. 85 
 
 Q. Isab. Unnatural wars, where subjects brave 
 their king ; 
 God end them once ! My lord, I take my leave, 
 To make my preparation for France. 
 
 [Exit with Prince Edward. 
 
 Enter Arundel. 
 
 K. Edw. What, Lord Arundel, dost thou come 
 alone ? 
 
 Arun. Yea, my good lord, for Gaveston is dead. 
 
 K. Edw. Ah, traitors, have they put my friend to 
 death ? 91 
 
 Tell me, Arundel, died he ere thou cam'st, 
 Or didst thou see my friend to take his death? 
 
 Arun. Neither, my lord ; for as he was surpris'd, 
 Begirt with weapons and with enemies round, 95 
 
 I did your highness' message to them all, 
 
60 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Demanding him of them, entreating rather, 
 
 And said, upon the honour of my name, 
 
 That I would undertake to carry him 
 
 Unto your highness, and to bring him back. ioo 
 
 K. Edw. And tell me, would the rebels deny me 
 that? 
 
 Y. Spen. Proud recreants ! 
 
 K. Edw. Yea, Spenser, traitors all. 
 
 Arun. I found them at the first inexorable ; 
 The Earl of Warwick would not bide the hearing, 
 Mortimer hardly ; Pembroke and Lancaster 105 
 
 Spake least : and when they flatly had denied, 
 Refusing to receive me pledge for him, 
 The Earl of Pembroke mildly thus bespake ; 
 " My lords, because our sovereign sends for him, 
 And promiseth he shall be safe return'd, no 
 
 I will this undertake, to have him hence, 
 And see him re-deliver'd to your hands." 
 
 K. Edw. Well, and how fortunes that he came not ? 
 
 Y. Spen. Some treason or some villany was cause. 
 
 Arun. The Earl of Warwick seiz'd him on his 
 way; 115 
 
 For, being deliver'd unto Pembroke's men, 
 Their lord rode home thinking his prisoner safe ; 
 But ere he came, Warwick in ambush lay, 
 And bare him to his death ; and in a trench 
 Strake off his head, and march'd unto the camp. 120 
 
 Y. Spen. A bloody part, flatly 'gainst law of arms. 
 
 K. Edw. O shall I speak, or shall I sigh and die ! 
 
ACT III. SCENE II. 6 1 
 
 Y. Spen. My lord, refer your vengeance to the 
 sword 
 Upon these barons ; hearten up your men ; 
 Let them not unreveng'd murder your friends ! 125 
 Advance your standard, Edward, in the field, 
 And march to fire them from their starting holes. 
 
 K. Ediu. \kneeling\. By earth, the common mother 
 of us all, 
 By heaven, and all the moving orbs thereof, 
 By this right hand, and by my father's sword, 130 
 
 And all the honours 'longing to my crown, 
 I will have heads, and lives for him, as many 
 As I have manors, castles, towns, and towers ! [Rises. 
 Treacherous Warwick ! traitorous Mortimer ! 
 If I be England's king, in lakes of gore 135 
 
 Your headless trunks, your bodies will I trail, 
 That you may drink your fill, and quaff in blood. 
 And stain my royal standard with the same, 
 That so my bloody colours may suggest 
 Remembrance of revenge immortally 140 
 
 On your accursed traitorous progeny, 
 You villains, that have slain my Gaveston ! 
 And in his place of honour and of trust, 
 Spenser, sweet Spenser, I adopt thee here : 
 And merely of our love we do create thee 145 
 
 Earl of Glocester, and Lord Chamberlain, 
 Despite of times, despite of enemies. 
 
 Y. Spen. My lord, here is a messenger from the 
 barons, 
 Desires access unto your majesty. 
 
 K. Edw. Admit him near. 150 
 
62 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Enter Herald, with his coat of arms. 
 
 Her. Long live King Edward, England's lawful 
 lord ! 
 
 K. Edw. So wish not they, I wis, that sent thee 
 hither. 
 Thou com'st from Mortimer and his complices ; 
 A ranker rout of rebels never was. 
 Well, say thy message. 155 
 
 Her. The barons up in arms by me salute 
 Your highness with long life and happiness ; 
 And bid me say, as plainer to your grace, 
 That if without effusion of blood 
 You will this grief have ease and remedy, 160 
 
 That from your princely person you remove 
 This Spenser, as a putrifying branch, 
 That deads the royal vine, whose golden leaves 
 Empale your princely head, your diadem ; 
 Whose brightness such pernicious upstarts dim, 165 
 Say they, and lovingly advise your grace 
 To cherish virtue and nobility, 
 And have old servitors in high esteem, 
 And shake off smooth dissembling flatterers : v 
 
 This granted, they, their honours, and their lives, 170 
 Are to your highness vow'd and consecrate. 
 
 Y. Spen. Ah, traitors, will they still display their 
 pride ? 
 
 K. Edw. Away \ tarry no answer, but be gone ! — 
 Rebels, will they appoint their sovereign 
 His sports, his pleasures, and his company ? — 175 
 Yet, ere thou go, see how I do divorce 
 
 {Embraces Spenser. 
 
ACT III. SCENE III. 63 
 
 Spenser from me. — Now get thee to thy lords, 
 And tell them I will come to chastise them 
 For murdering Gaveston ; hie thee, get thee gone ! 
 Edward with fire and sword follows at thy heels. 180 
 
 [Exit Herald. 
 My lord, perceive you how these rebels swell ? — 
 Soldiers, good hearts ! defend your sovereign's right, 
 For now, even now, we march to make them stoop. 
 Away ! 
 
 [Exeunt. Alarums, excursions, a great 
 fight, and a retreat sounded ivithin. 
 
 Scene III. Another part of the field, Boroughbridge. 
 
 Enter King Edward, the elder Spenser, the younger 
 Spenser, Baldock, and Noblemen of the king's 
 side. 
 
 K. Edw. Why do we sound retreat ? upon them, 
 lords ! 
 This day I shall pour vengeance with my sword 
 On those proud rebels that are up in arms, 
 And do confront and countermand their king. 
 
 Y. Spen. I doubt it not, my lord, right will prevail. 
 
 E. Spen. 'Tis not amiss, my liege, for either part 
 To breathe awhile ; our men, with sweat and dust 
 All chok'd well near, begin to faint for heat ; 
 And this retire refresheth horse and man. 
 
 Y. Spen. Here come the rebels. 10 
 
64 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Enter the younger Mortimer, Lancaster, V/arwick, 
 Pembroke, and others. 
 
 Y. Mor. Look, Lancaster, yonder is Edward 
 Among his flatterers. 
 
 La?i. And there let him be 
 
 Till he pay dearly for their company. 
 
 War. And shall, or Warwick's sword shall smite in 
 vain. 
 
 K. Edw. What, rebels, do you shrink and sound 
 retreat? 15 
 
 Y. Mor. No, Edward, no ; thy flatterers faint and 
 
 fly. 
 Lan. They had best betimes forsake thee and their 
 trains, 
 For they'll betray thee, traitors as they are. 
 
 Y. Spen. Traitor on thy face, rebellious Lancaster ! 
 Pem. Away, base upstart ! brav'st thou nobles thus ? 
 
 E. Spen. A noble attempt, and honourable deed, 2 1 
 Is it not, trow ye, to assemble aid, 
 And levy arms against your lawful king ! 
 
 K. Edw. For which ere long their heads shall sat- 
 isfy, 
 To appease the wrath of their offended king. 25 
 
 Y. Mor. Then, Edward, thou wilt fight it to the 
 last, 
 And rather bathe thy sword in subjects' blood, 
 Than banish that pernicious company? 
 
 K. Edw. Ay, traitors all, rather than thus be 
 brav'd, 
 
ACT III. SCENE III. 65 
 
 Make England's civil towns huge heaps of stones, 30 
 And ploughs to go about our palace gates. 
 
 War. A desperate and unnatural resolution ! — 
 Alarum to the fight ! 
 St. George for England, and the barons' right. 
 
 K. Edw. St. George for England, and King Ed- 
 ward's right. 35 
 [Alarums. Exeunt the two parties severally. 
 
 Enter King Edward and his follower s, with the Barons 
 and Kent, captives. 
 
 K. Edw. Now, lusty lords, now not by chance of 
 war, 
 But justice of the quarrel and the cause, 
 Vail'd is your pride ; methinks you hang the heads ; 
 But we'll advance them, traitors ; now 'tis time 
 To be aveng'd on you for all your braves, 40 
 
 And for the murder of my dearest friend, 
 To whom right well you knew our soul was knit, 
 Good Pierce of Gaveston, my sweet favourite. 
 4h, rebels, recreants, you made him away. 
 
 Kent. Brother, in regard of thee, and of thy land, 
 Did they remove that flatterer from thy throne. 46 
 
 K. Edw. So, sir, you have spoke ; away, avoid our 
 presence ! [Exit Kent. 
 
 Accursed wretches, was't in regard of us, 
 When we had sent our messenger to request 
 He might be spar'd to come to speak with us, 50 
 
 And Pembroke undertook for his return, 
 That thou, proud Warwick, watch'd the prisoner, 
 Poor Pierce, and headed him 'gainst law of arms ; 
 
66 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 For which thy head shall overlook the* rest, 
 
 As much as thou in rage outwent'st the rest. 55 
 
 War. Tyrant, I scorn thy threats and menaces; 
 It is but temporal that thou canst inflict. 
 
 Lan. The worst is death ; and better die to live 
 Than live in infamy under such a king. 
 
 K. Edw. Away with them, my lord of Winchester ! 
 These lusty leaders, Warwick and Lancaster, 61 
 
 I charge you roundly, off with both their heads ! 
 Away ! 
 
 War. Farewell, vain world ! 
 
 Lan. Sweet Mortimer, farewell. 
 
 Y. Mor. England, unkind to thy nobility, 65 
 
 Groan for this grief ! behold how thou art maim'd ! 
 K. 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 ! 70 
 
 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. 75 
 
 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 
 
ACT IV. SCENE I. 67 
 
 Begets the quiet of King Edward's land : 
 
 Therefore be gone in haste, and with advice 
 
 Bestow that treasure on the lords of France, 80 
 
 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. 86 
 
 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. 90 
 
 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 ! 95 
 
 Proclaim King Edward's wars and victories. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. London, a Street near the Tower. 
 Enter Kent. 
 
 K:nt. Fair blows the wind for France ; blow 
 gentle gale, 
 
68 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 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 ? 5 
 
 But I'll to France, and cheer the wronged queen, 
 
 And certify what Edward's looseness is. 
 
 Unnatural king ! to slaughter noblemen 
 
 And cherish flatterers ! Mortimer, I stay 
 
 Thy sweet escape. Stand gracious, gloomy night, 10 
 
 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 potion wrought so happily ? 
 
 Y. Mor. It hath, my lord ; the warders, all asleep, 
 I thank them, gave me leave to pass in peace. 15 
 
 But hath your grace got shipping unto France ? 
 
 Kent. Fear it not. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. Paris. 
 
 Enter Queen Isabella and Prince Edward. 
 
 Q. Isab. Ah, boy ! our friends do fail us all in 
 France ! 
 The lords are cruel, and the king unkind. 
 What shall we do ? 
 
 P. Edw. Madam, return to England, 
 
 And please my father well ; and then a fig 
 
ACT IV. SCENE II. 69 
 
 For all my uncle's friendship here in France ! 5 
 
 I warrant you, I'll win his highness quickly ; 
 'A loves me better than a thousand Spensers. / 
 
 Q. Isab. Ah, boy, thou art deceiv'd, at least in this, 
 To think that we can yet be tun'd together ! 
 No, no, we jar too far. — Unkind Valois ! 10 
 
 Unhappy Isabel ! when France rejects, 
 Whither, O, whither dost thou bend thy steps ? 
 
 Enter Sir John of Hainault. 
 
 Sir J. Madam, what cheer ? 
 
 Q. Isab. Ah, good Sir John of Hainault, 
 
 Never so cheerless, nor so far distrest ! 
 
 Sir J. I hear, sweet lady, of the king's unkindness; 
 But droop not, madam ; noble minds contemn 16 
 
 Despair. Will your grace with me to Hainault, 
 And there stay time's advantage with your son ? — 
 How say you, my lord ? will you go with your friends, 
 And shake off all our fortunes equally ? 20 
 
 P. Edw. So please the queen my mother, me it 
 likes : 
 The King of England, nor the court of France, 
 Shall have me from my gracious mother's side, 
 Till I be strong enough to break a staff ; 
 And then have at the proudest Spenser's head ! 25 
 
 Sir J. Well said, my lord ! 
 
 Q. Isab. O, my sweet heart, how do I moan thy 
 wrongs, 
 Yet triumph in the hope of thee, my joy ! — 
 Ah, sweet Sir John, even to the utmost verge 
 Of Europe, or the shore of Tanais, 30 
 
7° EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Will we with thee ! to Hainault ? — so we will : — 
 The marquis is a noble gentleman ; 
 His grace, I dare presume, will welcome me. — 
 But who are these? 
 
 Enter Kent and the younger Mortimer. 
 
 Kent. Madam, long may you live 
 
 Much happier than your friends in England do ! 35 
 
 Q. Isab. Lord Edmund and Lord Mortimer alive ! 
 Welcome to France ! the news was here, my lord, 
 That you were dead, or very near your death. 
 
 Y. Mor. Lady, the last was truest of the twain : 
 But Mortimer, reserv'd for better hap, 40 
 
 Hath shaken off the thraldom of the Tower, 
 And lives t' advance your standard, good my lord. 
 
 P. Edw. How mean you, and the king my father 
 lives ? 
 No, my Lord Mortimer, not I, I trow. 
 
 Q. Isab. Not, son ! why not ? I would it were no 
 worse ! — 45 
 
 But, gentle lords, friendless we are in France. 
 
 Y. Mor. Monsieur Le Grand, a noble friend of 
 yours, 
 Told us, at our arrival, all the news, — 
 How hard the nobles, how unkind the king 
 Hath shew'd himself : but, madam, right makes room 
 Where weapons want : and, though a many friends 
 Are made away, as Warwick, Lancaster, 
 And others of our part and faction ; 
 Yet have we friends, assure your grace, in England 
 
ACT IV. SCENE II. 7 1 
 
 Would cast up caps, and clap their hands for joy, 55 
 To see us there, appointed for our foes. 
 
 Kent. Would all were well, and Edward well re- 
 claim'd, 
 For England's honour, peace, and quietness ! 
 
 Y. Mor. But by the sword, my lord, 't must be de- 
 serv'd ; 
 The king will ne'er forsake his flatterers. 60 
 
 Sir J. My lords of England, sith th' ungentle king 
 Of France refuseth to give aid of arms 
 To this distressed queen his sister here, 
 Go you with her to Hainault ; doubt ye not, 
 We will find comfort, money, men, and friends, 65 
 
 Ere long, to bid the English king a base. 
 How say, young prince, what think you of the match ? 
 
 P. Edtv. I think King Edward will outrun us all. 
 
 Q. Isab. Nay, son, not so ; and you must not dis- 
 courage 
 Your friends that are so forward in your aid. 70 
 
 Kent. Sir John of Hainault, pardon us, I pray ; 
 These comforts that you give our woful queen 
 Bind us in kindness all at your command. 
 
 Q. Isab. Yea, gentle brother ; and the God of 
 heaven 
 Prosper your happy motion, good Sir John ! 75 
 
 Y. Mor. This noble gentleman, forward in arms, 
 Was born, I see, to be our anchor-hold. — 
 Sir John of Hainault, be it thy renown, 
 That England's queen and nobles in distress 
 Have been by thee restor'd and comforted. 80 
 
72 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Sir J. Madam, along, and you, my lord, with me, 
 That England's peers may Hainault's welcome see. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. London, a room in the Kings Palace. 
 
 Enter King Edward, Arundel, the elder Spenser, 
 the younger Spenser, and others. 
 
 K. Edw. Thus after many threats of wrathful war 
 Triumpheth England's Edward with his friends ; 
 And triumph Edward with his friends uncontroll'd ! 
 My lord of Glocester, do you hear the news ? 
 
 Y. Spen. What news, my lord ? 5 
 
 K. Edw. Why, man, they say there is great execu- 
 tion 
 Done through the realm. My lord of Arundel, 
 You have the note, have you not ? 
 
 Arun. From the lieutenant of the Tower, my lord. 
 
 K. Edw. I pray let us see it. [Takes the note from 
 Arundel.] What have we there? 10 
 
 Read it, Spenser. 
 
 [Gives the note to the younger Spenser, 
 who reads their names. 
 Why so ; they bark'd apace a month ago : 
 Now, on my life, they'll neither bark nor bite, 
 Now, sirs, the news from France ? Glocester, I trow, 
 The lords of France love England's gold so well, 15 
 As Isabella gets no aid from thence. 
 What now remains? have you proclaim'd, my lord, 
 Reward for them can bring in Mortimer? 
 
ACT IV. SCENE III. 73 
 
 Y. Spen. My lord, we have ; and if he be in 
 England, 
 'A will be had ere long, I doubt it not. 20 
 
 K. Edw. If, dost thou say ? Spenser, as true as 
 death, 
 He is in England's ground ; our portmasters 
 Are not so careless of their king's command. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 How now ! what news with thee ? from whence come 
 these ? 
 Mes. Letters, my lord, and tidings forth of 
 France 25 
 
 To you, my lord of Glocester, from Levune. 
 
 [Gives letters to the younger Spenser. 
 
 K. Edw. Read. 
 
 Y. Spen. [reading]. My duty to your honour pre- 
 mised, &C, / have, according to instructions in that 
 behalf, dealt with the King of France his lords, and 
 effected, that the queen, all discontented and disco?nforted, 
 is gone : whither, if you ask, with Sir John of Hainault, 
 brother to the marquis, into Flanders. With them are 
 gone Lord Edmund, and the Lord Mortitner, having in 
 their company divers of your nation, and others ; and, 
 as constant report goeth, they intend to give King Edward 
 battle in England, sooner than he can look for them. 
 This is all the news of i?nport. — Your honour's in all 
 service, Levune. 
 
 K. Edw. Ah, villains, hath that Mortimer escap'd ? 
 With him is Edmund gone associate? 41 
 
 And will Sir John of Hainault lead the round ? 
 
74 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Welcome, a' God's name, madam, and your son ! 
 
 England shall welcome you and all your rout. 
 
 Gallop apace, bright Phoebus, through the sky, / 45 
 
 And dusky Night, in rusty iron car, 
 
 Between you both shorten the time, I pray, 
 
 That I may see that most desired day, 
 
 When we may meet these traitors in the field ! 
 
 Ah, nothing grieves me, but my little boy 50 
 
 Is thus misled to countenance their ills ! 
 
 Come, friends, to Bristow, there to make us strong ; 
 
 And, winds, as equal be to bring them in, 
 
 As you injurious were to bear them forth ! {^Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. The Queen s Camp, near Orivell, Suffolk. 
 
 Enter Queen Isabella, Prince Edward, Kent, the 
 younger Mortimer, and Sir John of Hainault. 
 
 Q. /sab. Now, lords, our loving friends and country- 
 men, 
 Welcome to England all, with prosperous winds ! 
 Our kindest friends in Belgia have we left, 
 To cope with friends at home ; a heavy case 
 When force to force is knit, and sword and glaive 5 
 In civil broils make kin and countrymen 
 Slaughter themselves in others, and their sides 
 With their own weapons gor'd ! But what's the help ? 
 Misgovern'd kings are cause of all this wreck ; 
 And, Edward, thou art one among them all, 10 
 
 Whose looseness hath betray 'd thy land to spoil, 
 And made the channel overflow with blood 
 Of thine own people ; patron shouldst thou be, 
 But thou 
 
ACT IV. SCENE V. 75 
 
 Y. Mor. Nay, madam, if you be a warrior, 15 
 
 You must not grow so passionate in speeches. 
 Lords, sith that we are by sufferance of heaven 
 Arriv'd and armed in this prince's right, 
 Here for our country's cause swear we to him 
 All homage, fealty, and forwardness ; 20 
 
 And for the open wrongs and injuries 
 Edward hath done to us, his queen, and land, 
 We come in arms to wreak it with the sword ; 
 That England's queen in peace may repossess 
 Her dignities and honours : and withal 25 
 
 We may remove these flatterers from the king, 
 That havock England's wealth and treasury. 
 
 Sir J. Sound trumpets, my lord, and forward let 
 us march. 
 Edward will think we come to flatter him. 
 
 Kent. I would he never had been flatter'd more ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. Near Bristol. 
 
 Enter King Edward, Baldock, and the younger 
 Spenser. 
 
 Y. Spen. Fly, fly, my lord ! the queen is over- strong ; 
 Her friends do multiply, and yours do fail. 
 Shape we our course to Ireland, there to breathe. 
 
 K. Edw. What, was I born to fly, and run away, 
 And leave the Mortimers conquerors behind ? 5 
 
 Give me my horse, let us reinforce our troops, 
 And in this bed of honour die with fame. 
 
 Bald. O no, my lord ! this princely resolution 
 Fits not the time ; away ! we are pursued. [Exeunt. 
 
7 6 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Enter Kent, with a sword and target. 
 
 Kent. This way he fled ; but I am cometoo late. 
 Edward, alas, my heart relents for thee ! 1 1 
 
 Proud traitor, Mortimer, why dost thou chase 
 Thy lawful king, thy sovereign, with thy sword ? 
 Vile wretch, and why hast thou, of all unkind, 
 Borne arms against thy brother and thy king? 15 
 
 Rain showers of vengeance on my cursed head, 
 Thou God, to whom in justice it belongs 
 To punish this unnatural revolt ! 
 Edward, this Mortimer aims at thy life : 
 O, fly him then ! But, Edmund, calm this rage ; 20 
 Dissemble, or thou diest ; for Mortimer 
 And Isabel do kiss, while they conspire : 
 And yet she bears a face of love forsooth : 
 Fie on that love that hatcheth death and hate ! 
 Edmund, away ! Bristow to Longshanks' blood 25 
 
 Is false ; be not found single for suspect : 
 Proud Mortimer pries near into thy walks. /^ 
 
 Enter Queen Isabella, Prince Edward, the younger 
 Mortimer, and Sir John of Hainault. 
 
 Q. Isab. Successful battle gives the God of kings 
 To them that fight in right, and fear his wrath. 
 Since then successfully we have prevail'd 30 
 
 Thanked be heaven's great architect, and you ! 
 Ere farther we proceed, my noble lords, 
 We here create our well-beloved son, 
 Of love and care unto his royal person, 
 Lord Warden of the realm, and sith the fates 35 
 
 Have made his father so infortunate, 
 
ACT IV. SCENE V. 77 
 
 Deal you, my lords, in this, my loving lords, 
 As to your wisdoms fittest seems in all. 
 
 Kent. Madam, without offence if I may ask, 
 How will you deal with Edward in his fall ? 40 
 
 Prince. Tell me, good uncle, what Edward do you 
 
 mean ? 
 Kent. Nephew, your father ; I dare not call him 
 
 king. 
 Y. Mor. My lord of Kent, what needs these ques- 
 tions ? 
 'Tis not in her controlment nor in ours ; 
 But as the realm and parliament shall please, 45 
 
 So shall your brother be disposed of. — 
 I like not this relenting mood in Edmund : 
 Madam, 'tis good to look to him betimes. 
 
 [Aside to the Queen. 
 Q. Isab. My lord, the Mayor of Bristow knows our 
 
 mind. 
 Y. Mor. Yea, madam ; and they scape not easily 
 That fled the field. 
 
 Q. Isab. Baldock is with the king : 5 1 
 
 A goodly chancellor is he not, my lord ? 
 
 Sir J. So are the Spensers, the father and the 
 
 son. 
 Y. Mor. This Edward is the ruin of the realm. 
 
 Enter Rice ap Howel, and the Mayor of Bristow, 
 with the elder Spenser prisoner, a?id Attendants. 
 
 Rice. God save Queen Isabel and her princely 
 son ! 55 
 
78 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Madam, the Mayor and citizens of Bristow, 
 
 In sign of love and duty to this presence, 
 
 Present by me this traitor to the state, 
 
 Spenser, the father to that wanton Spenser, 
 
 That, like the lawless Catiline of Rome, 60 
 
 Revell'd in England's wealth and treasury. 
 
 Q. Isab. We thank you all. 
 
 Y. Mor. Your loving care in this 
 
 Deserveth princely favours and rewards. 
 But where's the king and the other Spenser fled ? 
 
 Rice. Spenser the son, created Earl of Glocester, 
 Is with that smooth-tongu'd scholar Baldock gone, 66 
 And shipp'd but late for Ireland with the king. 
 
 Y. Mor. Some whirlwind fetch them back or sink 
 them all. — [Aside. 
 
 They shall be started thence, I doubt it not. 
 
 P. Edw. Shall I not see the king my father 
 yet ? 70 
 
 Kent. Unhappy Edward, chas'd from England's 
 bounds. 
 
 Sir J. Madam, what resteth, why stand you in a 
 muse ? 
 
 Q. Isab. I rue my lord's ill-fortune ; but, alas ! 
 Care of my country call'd me to this war ! 
 
 Y. Mor. Madam, have done with care and sad 
 complaint ; 75 
 
 Your king hath wrong'd your country and himself, 
 And we must seek to right it as we may. — 
 Meanwhile, have hence this rebel to the block. 
 
ACT TV. SCENE VI. 79 
 
 E. Spen. Rebel is he that fights against the prince ; 
 So fought not they that fought in Edward's right. 80 
 
 Y. Mor. Take him away, he prates. 
 
 [Exeunt Attendants with the elder Spenser. 
 You, Rice ap Howel, 
 Shall do good service to her majesty* 
 Being of countenance in your country here, 
 To follow these rebellious runagates. — 
 We in meanwhile, madam, must take advice, 85 
 
 How Baldock, Spenser, and their complices, 
 May in their fall be follow'd to their end. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VI. Within the Abbey of Neath. 
 
 E?iter the Abbot, Monks, King Edward, the younger 
 Spenser, and Baldock (the three last disguised). 
 
 Abbot. Have you no doubt, my lord ; have you no 
 fear ; 
 As silent and as careful we will be, 
 To keep your royal person safe with us, 
 Free from suspect, and fell invasion 
 Of such as have your majesty in chase, 5 
 
 Yourself, and those your chosen company, 
 As danger of this stormy time requires. 
 
 K. Edw. Father, thy face should harbour no 
 deceit. 
 O ! hadst thou ever been a king, thy heart, 
 Pierc'd deeply with sense of my distress, 10 
 
 Could not but take compassion of my state ! 
 Stately and proud, in riches and in train, 
 Whilom I was, powerful, and full of pomp : 
 
80 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 But what is he whom rule and empery 
 
 Have not in life or death made miserable ? 15 
 
 Come, Spenser, come, Baldock, come, sit down by me ; 
 
 Make trial now of that philosophy, 
 
 That in our famous nurseries of arts 
 
 Thou suck'dst from Plato and from Aristotle. — 
 
 Father, this life contemplative is heaven : 20 
 
 O, that I might this life in quiet lead ! 
 
 But we, alas, are chas'd — and you, my friends, 
 
 Your lives and my dishonour they pursue. — 
 
 Yet, gentle monks, for treasure, gold nor fee, 
 
 Do you betray us and our company. 25 
 
 First Monk. Your grace may sit secure, if none 
 but we 
 Do wot of your abode. 
 
 Y. Spen. Not one alive ; but shrewdly I suspect 
 A gloomy fellow in a mead below ; 
 'A gave a long look after us, my lord ; 30 
 
 And all the land I know is up in arms, 
 Arms that pursue our lives with deadly hate. 
 
 Bald. We were embark'd for Ireland ; wretched we, 
 With awkward winds and sore tempests driven, 
 To fall on shore, and here to pine in fear 35 
 
 Of Mortimer and his confederates ! 
 
 K. Edw. Mortimer ! who talks of Mortimer ? 
 Who wounds me with the name of Mortimer, 
 That bloody man ? — Good father, on thy lap 
 Lay I this head, laden with mickle care. 40 
 
 O might I never ope these eyes again, 
 Never again lift up this drooping head, 
 O, never more lift up this dying heart .' 
 
ACT IV. SCENE VI. 81 
 
 Y. Spen. Look up, my lord. — Baldock, this drow- 
 siness 
 Betides no good ; here even we are betray'd. 45 
 
 Enter, with Welsh hooks, Rice ap Howel, a Mower, 
 and Leicester. 
 
 Mow. Upon my life, these be the men ye seek. 
 
 Rice. Fellow, enough. — My lord, I pray be short ; 
 A fair commission warrants what we do. 
 
 Leices. The queen's commission, urg'd by Morti- 
 mer : 
 What cannot gallant Mortimer with the queen ? — 50 
 Alas, see where he sits, and hopes unseen 
 T' escape their hands that seek to reave his life ! 
 Too true it is, Que?n dies vidit veniens superbum, 
 Hunc dies vidit fugiens jacentem. 
 
 But, Leicester, leave to grow so passionate. — 55 
 
 Spenser and Baldock, by no other names, 
 I arrest you of high treason here. 
 Stand not on titles, but obey th' arrest ; 
 'Tis in the name of Isabel the queen. — 
 My lord, why droop you thus ? 60 
 
 K. Edw. O day the last of all my bliss on earth ! 
 Centre of all misfortune ! O my stars, 
 Why do you lour unkindly on a king? 
 Comes Leicester, then, in Isabella's name, 
 To take my life, my company from me ? 65 
 
 Here, man, rip up this panting breast of mine, 
 And take my heart in rescue of my friends. 
 
 Rice. Away with them ! 
 
82 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Y. Speh. It may become thee yet 
 
 To let us take our farewell of his grace. 
 
 Abbot. My heart with pity earns to see this sight ; 
 A king to bear these words and proud commands ! 
 
 f Aside. 
 K. Edw. Spenser, ah, sweet Spenser, thus then 
 must we part ? 
 
 Y. Spen. We must, my lord ; so will the angry 
 heavens. 
 
 K. Edw. Nay, so will hell and cruel Mortimer ; 
 The gentle heavens have not to do in this. 75 
 
 Bald. My lord, it is in vain to grieve or storm. 
 Here humbly of your grace we take our leaves ; 
 Our lots are cast ; I fear me, so is thine. 
 
 K. Edw. In heaven we may, in earth ne'er shall 
 we meet : — 
 And, Leicester, say, what shall become of us? 80 
 
 Leices. Your majesty must go to Killingworth. 
 
 K. Edw. Must ! it is somewhat hard when kings 
 
 must go. 
 Leices. Here is a litter ready for your grace, 
 That waits your pleasure, and the day grows old. 
 
 Rice. As good be gone, as stay and be benighted. 
 
 K. Edw. A litter hast thou ? lay me in a hearse, 
 And to the gates of hell convey me hence ; 
 Let Pluto's bells ring out my fatal knell, 
 And hags howl for my death at Charon's shore ; 
 For friends hath Edward none but these, and these — 
 And these must die under a tyrant's sword. 91 
 
ACT IV. SCENE VI. 83 
 
 Rice. My lord, be going ; care not for these ; 
 For we shall see them shorter by the heads. 
 
 K. Edw. Well, that shall be, shall be : part we 
 must ; 
 Sweet Spenser, gentle Baldock, part we must. — 95 
 Hence, feigned weeds ! unfeigned are my woes. — 
 
 [ Throwing off his disguise. 
 Father, farewell. — Leicester, thou stay'st for me ; 
 And go I must. — Life, farewell, with my friends ! 
 
 [Exeunt King Edward and Leicester. 
 
 Y. Spen. Oh, is he gone ? is noble Edward gone ? 
 Parted from hence, never to see us more ? 100 
 
 Rent, sphere of heaven ! and, fire, forsake thy orb ! 
 Earth, melt to air ! gone is my sovereign, 
 Gone, gone, alas, never to make return ! 
 
 Bald. Spenser, I see our souls are fleeting hence ; 
 We are deprived the sunshine of our life. 105 
 
 Make for a new life, man ; throw up thy eyes 
 And heart and hand to heaven's immortal throne ; 
 Pay nature's debt with cheerful countenance ; 
 Reduce we all our lessons unto this, — 
 To die, sweet Spenser, therefore live we all ; no 
 
 Spenser, all live to die, and rise to fall.y 
 
 Rice. Come, come, keep these preachments till you 
 come to the place appointed. Yon, and such as you 
 are, have made wise work in England. Will your 
 lordships away ? 115 
 
 Mow. Your lordship, I trust, will remember me ? 
 
 Rice. Remember thee, fellow ! what else ? Follow 
 me to the town. [Exeunt, 
 
84 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. Killingworth Castle. 
 
 Enter King Edward, Leicester, the Bishop of 
 Winchester, and Trussel. 
 
 Leices. Be patient, good my lord, cease to lament ; 
 Imagine Killingworth Castle were your court, 
 And that you lay for pleasure here a space, 
 Not of compulsion or necessity. 
 
 K. Edw. Leicester, if gentle words might comfort 
 me, 5 
 
 Thy speeches long ago had eas'd my sorrows, 
 For kind and loving hast thou always been. 
 The griefs of private men are soon allay'd ; 
 But not of kings. The forest deer, being struck, 
 Runs to an herb that closeth up the wounds ; 10 
 
 But when the imperial lion's flesh is gor'd, 
 He rends and tears it with his wrathful paw, 
 [And], highly scorning that the lowly earth 
 Should drink his blood, mounts up to the air : 
 And so it fares with me, whose dauntless mind 15 
 
 Th' ambitious Mortimer would seek to curb, 
 And that unnatural queen, false Isabel, 
 That thus hath pent and mew'd me in a prison ; 
 For such outrageous passions cloy my soul, 
 As with the wings of rancour and disdain, 20 
 
 Full often am I soaring up to heaven, 
 To plain me to the gods against them both. 
 But when I call to mind I am a king, 
 Methinks I should revenge me of my wrongs, 
 
ACT V. SCENE I. 85 
 
 That Mortimer and Isabel have done. 25 
 
 But what are kings, when regiment is gone, 
 
 But perfect shadows in a sunshine day ? 
 
 My nobles rule ; I bear the name of king ; 
 
 I wear the crown but am controll'd by them, 
 
 By Mortimer, and my unconstant queen 30 
 
 Who spots my nuptial bed with infamy; 
 
 Whilst I am lodg'd within this cave of care, 
 
 Where sorrow at my elbow still attends, 
 
 To company my heart with sad laments, 
 
 That bleeds within me for this strange exchange. 35 
 
 But tell me, must I now resign my crown, 
 
 To make usurping Mortimer a king ? 
 
 Bish. of Win. Your grace mistakes; it is for 
 England's good 
 And princely Edward's right we crave the crown. 
 
 K. Edw. No, 'tis for Mortimer, not Edward's 
 head ; 40 
 
 For he's a lamb, encompassed by wolves, 
 Which in a moment will abridge his life. 
 But, if proud Mortimer do wear this crown, 
 Heavens turn it to a blaze of quenchless fire ! 
 Or, like the snaky wreath of Tisiphon, 45 
 
 Engirt the temples of his hateful head ! 
 So shall not England's vine be perished, 
 But Edward's name survive, though Edward dies. 
 
 Leices. My lord, why waste you thus the time 
 away ? 
 They stay your answer ; will you yield your crown ? 
 
 K. Edw. Ah, Leicester, weigh how hardly I can 
 brook 51 
 
86 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 To lose my crown and kingdom without cause ; 
 
 To give ambitious Mortimer my right, 
 
 That like a mountain overwhelms my bliss ; 
 
 In which extreme my mind here murdered is ! 55 
 
 But that the heavens appoint I must obey. — 
 
 Here, take my crown ; the life of Edward too ; 
 
 [ Taking off the trown. 
 Two kings in England cannot reign at once. 
 But stay a while : let me be king till night, >- 
 That I may gaze upon this glittering crown ; 60 
 
 So shall my eyes receive their last content, 
 My head, the latest honour due to it, 
 And jointly both yield up their wished right. 
 Continue ever, thou celestial sun ; 
 Let never silent night possess this clime : 65 
 
 Stand still, you watches of the element ; 
 All times and seasons, rest you at a stay, 
 That Edward may be still fair England's king ! K 
 But day's bright beam doth vanish fast away, 
 And needs I must resign my wished crown. 70 
 
 Inhuman creatures, nursed with tiger's milk, 
 Why gape you for your sovereign's overthrow ? 
 My diadem, I mean, and guiltless life. 
 See, monsters, see ! I'll wear my crown again. 
 
 [Putting on the crown. 
 What, fear you not the fury of your king ? — 75 
 
 But, hapless Edward, thou art fondly led ; 
 They pass not for thy frowns as late they did, 
 But seek to make a new-elected king ; 
 Which fills my mind with strange despairing thoughts, 
 Which thoughts are martyred with endless torments ; 
 And in this torment comfort find I none, 81 
 
ACT V. SCENE I. 87 
 
 But that I feel the crown upon my head ; 
 And therefore let me wear it yet a while. 
 
 Trus. My lord, the parliament must have present 
 news ; 
 And therefore say, will you resign or no ? 85 
 
 [The King rageth. 
 
 K. Edw. I'll not resign, but whilst I live [be king]. 
 Traitors, be gone, and join you with Mortimer ! 
 Elect, conspire, install, do what you will : 
 Their blood and yours shall seal these treacheries. 
 
 Bish. of Win. This answer we'll return, and so 
 farewell. [Going with Trussel. 
 
 Leices. Call them again, my lord, and speak them 
 fair ; 91 
 
 For if they go, the prince shall lose his right. 
 
 K. Ediu. Call thou them back ; I have no power 
 to speak. 
 
 Leices. My lord, the king is willing to resign. 
 
 Bish. of Win. If he be not, let him choose. 95 
 
 K. Edw. O would I might ! but heavens and earth 
 conspire 
 To make me miserable. Here, receive my crown. 
 Receive it ? no, these innocent hands of mine 
 Shall not be guilty of so foul a crime : 
 He of you all that most desires my blood, 100 
 
 And will be call'd the murderer of a king, 
 Take it. What, are you mov'd ? pity you me ? 
 Then send for unrelenting Mortimer, 
 And Isabel, whose eyes, being turn'd to steel, 
 
B8 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Will sooner sparkle fire than shed a tear. 105 
 
 Yet stay ; for rather than I'll look on them, 
 
 Here, here ! [Gives the croivn.] Now, sweet God of 
 
 heaven, 
 Make me despise this transitory pomp, 
 And sit for aye enthronized in heaven ! 
 Come, death, and with thy fingers close my eyes, no 
 Or if I live, let me forget myself ! 
 
 Bish. of Win. My lord, — 
 
 K. Edw. Call me not lord ; away, out of my sight ! 
 Ah, pardon me ! grief makes me lunatic. 
 Let not that Mortimer protect my son ; 115 
 
 More safety there is in a tiger's jaws 
 Than his embracements. Bear this to the queen, 
 Wet with my tears, and dried again with sighs ; 
 
 [Gives a handkerchief. 
 If with the sight thereof she be not mov'd, 
 Return it back and dip it in my blood. 120 
 
 Commend me to my son, and bid him rule 
 Better than I : yet how have I transgress'd 
 Unless it be with too much clemency ? 
 
 Trus. And thus, most humbly do we take our leave. 
 [Exeunt the Bishop of Winchester and 
 Trussel with the crown. 
 
 K. Edw. Farewell ; I know the next news that 
 they bring 125 
 
 Will be my death ; and welcome shall it be ; 
 To wretched men death is felicity. 
 
 Leices. Another post ! what news brings he? 
 
ACT V. SCENE I. 89 
 
 Enter Berkeley, who gives a paper to Leicester. 
 
 K. Ediv. Such news as I expect. — Come, Berkeley, 
 come, 
 And tell thy message to my naked breast. 130 
 
 Berk. My lord, think not a thought so villanous 
 Can harbour in a man of noble birth. 
 To do your highness service and devoir, 
 And save you from your foes, Berkeley would die. 
 
 Leices. My lord, the council of the queen commands 
 That I resign my charge. 136 
 
 K. Edw. And who must keep me now ? Must 
 
 you, ray lord ? 
 Berk. Ay, my most gracious lord ; so 'tis decreed. 
 
 K. Edw. [taking the paper]. By Mortimer, whose 
 name is written here ! 
 Well may I rent his name that rends my heart. 14° 
 
 [Tears it. 
 This poor revenge hath something eas'd my mind. 
 So may his limbs be torn, as is this paper ! 
 Hear me' immortal Jove, and grant it too ! 
 
 Berk. Your grace must hence with me to Berkeley 
 straight. 
 
 K. Edw. Whither you will ; all places are alike, 
 And every earth is fit for burial. 146 
 
 Leices. Favour him, my lord, as much as lieth in you 
 
 Berk. Even so betide my soul as I use him. 
 
 K. Edw. Mine enemy hath pitied my estate, 
 And that's the cause that I am now remov'd. 150 
 
90 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Berk. And thinks your grace that Berkeley will be 
 
 cruel? 
 K. Edw. I know not ; but of this am I assur'd, 
 That death ends all, and I can die but once. — 
 Leicester, farewell. 
 
 Leices. Not yet, my lord ; I'll bear you on your way. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. Westminster, a room in the palace. 
 
 Enter Queen Isabella and the younger Mortimer. 
 
 Y. Mor. Fair Isabel, now have we our desire ; 
 The proud corrupters of the light-brain'd king 
 Have done their homage to the lofty gallows, 
 And he himself lies in captivity. 
 
 Be rul'd by me, and we will rule the realm. 5 
 
 In any case take heed of childish fear, 
 For now we hold an old wolf by the ears, 
 That, if he slip, will seize upon us both, 
 And gripe the sorer, being grip'd himself. 
 Think therefore, madam, that imports us much 10 
 To erect your son with all the speed we may, 
 And that I be protector over him ; 
 For our behoof, 'twill bear the greater sway 
 Whenas a king's name shall be under-writ. 
 
 Q. Isab. Sweet Mortimer, the life of Isabel, 15 
 
 Be thou persuaded that I love thee well ; 
 And therefore, so the prince my son be safe, 
 Whom I esteem as dear as these mine eyes, 
 Conclude against his father what thou wilt, 
 And I myself will willingly subscribe. 20 
 
ACT V. SCENE II. 9 1 
 
 Y. Mor. First would I hear news he were depos'd, 
 And then let me alone to handle him. 
 
 Enter Messenger. 
 
 Letters . from whence ? 
 
 Mess. From Killingworth, my lord. 
 
 Q. Isab. How fares my lord the king ? 
 Mess. In health, madam, but full of pensiveness. 
 Q. Isab. Alas, poor soul, would I could ease his 
 grief ! 26 
 
 Enter the Bishop of Winchester with the crown. 
 
 Thanks, gentle Winchester. — Sirrah, be gone. 
 
 [Exit Messenger. 
 Bish. of Win. The king hath willingly resign 'd his 
 crown. 
 
 Q. Isab. O happy news ! send for the prince my 
 
 son. 
 
 Bish. of Win. Further, or this letter was seal'd, 
 Lord Berkeley came, 30 
 
 So that he now is gone from Killingworth ; 
 And we have heard that Edmund laid a plot 
 To set his brother free ; no more but so. 
 The lord of Berkeley is so pitiful 
 
 As Leicester that had charge of him before. 35 
 
 Q. Isab. Then let some other be his guardian. 
 Y. Mor. Let me alone ; here is the privy seal.— 
 [Exit the Bishop of Winchester. 
 Who's there ? — Call hither Gurney and Matrevis. — 
 
 [To Attendants within. 
 
9 2 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 To dash the heavy-headed Edmund's drift, 
 
 Berkeley shall be discharg'd, the king remov'd, 40 
 
 And none but we shall know where he lieth. 
 
 Q. Isab. But, Mortimer, as long as he survives, 
 What safety rests for us, or for my son ? 
 
 Y. Mor. Speak, shall he presently be despatch'd 
 and die ? 
 
 Q. Isab. I would he were, so 'twere not by my 
 means. 
 
 Enter Matrevis and Gurney. 
 
 Y. Mor. Enough. Matrevis, write a letter pres- 
 ently 
 Unto the lord of Berkeley from ourself 
 That he resign the king to thee and Gurney ; 
 And when 'tis done, we will subscribe our name. 
 Mat. It shall be done, my lord. [ Writes. 
 
 Y. Mor. Gurney, — 
 
 Gur. My lord ? 50 
 
 Y. Mor. As thou intend'st to rise by Mortimer, 
 Who now makes Fortune's wheel turn as he please, 
 Seek all the means thou canst to make him droop, 
 And neither give him kind word nor good look. 
 
 Gur. I warrant you, my lord. 55 
 
 Y. Mor. And this above the rest ; because we hear 
 That Edmund casts to work his liberty, 
 Remove him still from place to place by night, 
 Till at the last he come to Killingworth, 
 And then from thence to Berkeley back again ; 60 
 
 And by the way, to make him fret the more, 
 
ACT V. SCENE II. 93 
 
 Speak curstly to him ; and in any case 
 
 Let no man comfort him, if he chance to weep, 
 
 But amplify his grief with bitter words. 
 
 Mat. Fear not, my lord ; we'll do as you command. 
 
 Y. Mor. So now away ! post thitherwards amain. 
 
 Q. Isab. Whither goes this letter ? to my lord the 
 king ? 
 
 Commend me humbly to his majesty, 
 
 And tell him that I labour all in vain 
 
 To ease his grief, and work his liberty ; 70 
 
 And bear him this as witness of my love. [Gives ring- 
 Mat. I will, madam. [Exit with Gurney. 
 Y. Mor. Finely dissembled ! Do so still, sweet 
 queen. 
 
 Here comes the young prince, with the Earl of Kent. 
 Q. Isab. Something he whispers in his childish ears. 
 Y. Mor. If he have such access unto the prince, 
 
 Our plots and stratagems will soon be dash'd. 
 
 Q. Isab. Use Edmund friendly, as if all were well. 
 
 Enter Prince Edward, and Kent talking with him. 
 
 Y. Mor. How fares my honourable lord of Kent ? 
 Kent. In health, sweet Mortimer. — How fares your 
 
 grace ? 80 
 
 Q. Isab. Well, if my lord your brother were en- 
 
 larg'd. 
 Kent. I hear of late he hath depos'd himself. 
 Q. Isab. The more my grief. 
 Y. Mor. . And mine. 
 
94 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Kent. Ah, they do dissemble ! 
 
 [Aside. 
 Q. Isab. Sweet son, come hither ; I must talk with 
 thee. 
 
 Y. Mor. You, being his uncle and the next of blood, 
 Do look to be protector o'er the prince. 86 
 
 Kent. Not I, my lord ; who should protect the son, 
 But she that gave him life ? I mean the queen. 
 
 P. Edw. Mother, persuade me not to wear the 
 crown : 
 Let him be king ; I am too young to reign. 90 
 
 Q. Isab. But be content, seeing 'tis his highness' 
 
 pleasure. 
 P. Edw. Let me but see him first, and then I will. 
 Kent. Ay, do, sweet nephew. 
 Q. Isab. Brother, you know it is impossible. 
 P. Edw. Why, is he dead ? 
 
 Q. Isab. No, God forbid ! 95 
 
 Kent. I would those words proceeded from your 
 
 heart ! 
 
 Y. Mor. Inconstant Edmund, dost thou favour 
 him, 
 That wast a cause of his imprisonment ? 
 
 Kent. The more cause have I now to make amends. 
 Y. Mor. [aside to Q. Isab.]. I tell thee, 'tis not 
 meet that one so false 100 
 
 Should come about the person of a prince. — 
 My lord, he hath betray'd the king his brother, 
 And therefore trust him not. 
 
ACT V. SCENE III. 95 
 
 P. Edw. But he repents, and sorrows for it now. 
 Q. Isab. Come, son, and go with this gentle lord 
 and me. 105 
 
 P. Edw. With you I will, but not with Mortimer. 
 Y. Mor. Why, youngling, 'sdain'st thou so of Mor- 
 timer ? 
 Then I will carry thee by force away. 
 
 P. Edw. Help, uncle Kent ! Mortimer will wrong 
 
 me. 
 Q. Isab. Brother Edmund, strive not ; we are his 
 friends; no 
 
 Isabel is nearer than the Earl of Kent. 
 
 Kent. Sister, Edward is my charge ; redeem him. 
 Q. Isab. Edward is my son, and I will keep him. 
 Kent. Mortimer shall know that he hath wronged 
 me ! 
 Hence will I haste to Killingworth Castle, 115 
 
 And rescue aged Edward from his foes, J( 
 To be reveng'd on Mortimer and thee. [Aside. 
 
 [Exeunt, on one side, Queen Isabella, 
 Prince Edward, and the younger 
 Mortimer ; on the other, Kent. 
 
 Scene III. Near Killingworth Castle. 
 
 Enter Matrevis, Gurney, and Soldiers, with King 
 Edward. 
 
 Mat. My lord, be not pensive ; we are your 
 friends ; 
 Men are ordain'd to live in misery, 
 Therefore, come ; dalliance dangereth our lives. 
 
96 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 K. Edw. Friends, whither must unhappy Edward 
 go? 
 Will hateful Mortimer appoint no rest ? 5 
 
 Must I be vexed like the nightly bird, 
 Whose sight is loathsome to all winged fowls ? 
 When will the fury of his mind assuage ? 
 When will his heart be satisfied with blood ? 
 If mine will serve, unbowel straight this breast, 10 
 
 And give my heart to Isabel and him : 
 It is the chief est mark they level at. 
 
 Gur. Not so, my liege ; the queen hath given this 
 charge, 
 To keep your grace in safety : 
 Your passions make your dolours to increase. 15 
 
 K. Edw. This usage makes my misery increase. 
 But can my air of life continue long 
 When all my senses are annoy'd with stench ? 
 Within a dungeon England's king is kept, 
 Where I am starv'd for want of sustenance ; 20 
 
 My daily diet is heart-breaking sobs, 
 That almost rents the closet of my heart ; 
 Thus lives old Edward not reliev'd by any, 
 And so must die, though pitied by many. 
 Oh, water, gentle friends, to cool my thirst, 25 
 
 And clear my body from foul excrements ! 
 
 Mat. Here's channel water, as our charge is given : 
 Sit down, for we'll be barbers to your grace. 
 
 K. Edw. Traitors, away ! what, will you murder 
 me, 
 Or choke your sovereign with puddle-water ? 30 
 
ACT V. SCENE III. 97 
 
 Gur. No, but wash your face, and shave away your 
 beard, 
 Lest you be known, and so be rescued. 
 
 Mat. Why strive you thus ? your labour is in vain. 
 
 K. Edw. The wren may strive against the lion's 
 strength, 
 But all in vain : so vainly do I strive 35 
 
 To seek for mercy at a tyrant's hand. 
 
 [ They wash him with puddle-water, and 
 shave his beard away. 
 Immortal powers, that know the painful cares 
 That wait upon my poor distressed soul, 
 O level all your looks upon these daring men, 
 That wrong their liege and sovereign, England's king. 
 O Gaveston, it is for thee that I am wrong'd, 41 
 
 For me, both thou and both the Spensers died ! 
 And for your sakes a thousand wrongs I'll take. 
 The Spensers' ghosts, wherever they remain, 
 Wish well to mine ; then, tush, for them I'll die. 45 
 
 Mat. 'Twixt theirs and yours shall be no enmity. 
 Come, come, away ! now put the torches out : 
 We'll enter in by darkness to Killingworth. 
 
 Gur. How now, who comes there ? 
 
 Enter Kent. 
 
 Mat. Guard the king sure : it is the Earl of Kent. 
 K. Edw. O, gentle brother, help to rescue me ! 51 
 Mat. Keep them asunder ; thrust in the king. 
 Kent. Soldiers, let me but talk to him one word. 
 Gur. Lay hands upon the earl for his assault. 
 
98 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Kent. Lay down your weapons, traitors ! yield the 
 
 king ! 55 
 
 Mat. Edmund, yield thou thyself, or thou shall 
 
 die. 
 Kent. Base villains, wherefore do you gripe me 
 
 thus ? 
 Gur. Bind him and so convey him to the court. 
 Kent. Where is the court but here ? here is the 
 king. 
 And I will visit him ; why stay you me ? 60 
 
 Mat. The court is where Lord Mortimer remains ; 
 Thither shall your honour go ; and so farewell. 
 
 [Exeunt Matrevis and Gurney, with 
 King Edward. 
 Kent. O miserable is that commonweal, 
 Where lords keep courts, and kings are lock'd in 
 prison ! 
 First Sold. Wherefore stay we ? on, sirs, to the 
 court. 65 
 
 Kent. Ay, lead me whither you will, even to my 
 death, 
 Seeing that my brother cannot be releas'd. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. Westminster, a room in the palace. 
 
 Enter the younger Mortimer. 
 
 Y. Mor. The king must die, or Mortimer goes 
 down ; 
 The commons now begin to pity him : 
 Yet he that is the cause of Edward's death, 
 
ACT V. SCENE IV. 99 
 
 Is sure to pay for it when his son's of age ; 
 
 And therefore will I do it cunningly. 5 
 
 This letter written by a friend of ours, 
 
 Contains his death, yet bids them save his life ; [Reads. 
 
 Edwardum occidere nolite timere, bonum est, 
 
 Fear not to kill the king, 'tis good he die. 
 
 But read it thus, and that's another sense ; 10 
 
 Mdwardum occidere nolite, timere bonum est, 
 
 Kill not the king, 'tis good to fear the worst. 
 
 Unpointed as it is, thus shall it go, 
 
 That, being dead, if it chance to be found, 
 
 Matrevis and the rest may bear the blame, 15 
 
 And we be quit that caus'd it to be done. 
 
 Within this room is lock'd the messenger 
 
 That shall convey it, and perform the rest : 
 
 And by a secret token that he bears, 
 
 Shall he be murder'd when the deed is done. — 20 
 
 Lightborn, come forth ! 
 
 Enter Lightborn. 
 
 Art thou so resolute as thou wast ? 
 
 Light. What else, my lord ? and far more resolute. 
 Y. Mor. And hast thou cast how to accomplish it? 
 Light. Ay, ay ; and none shall know which way he 
 died. • 25 
 
 Y. Mor. But at his looks, Lightborn, thou wilt 
 relent. 
 
 Light. Relent ! ha, ha ! I use much to relent. 
 Y. Mor. Well, do it bravely, and be secret. 
 Light. You shall not need to give instructions ; 
 'Tis not the first time I have kill'd a man : 30 
 
ioo EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 I leam'd in Naples how to poison flowers ; 
 
 To strangle with a lawn thrust down the throat ; 
 
 To pierce the windpipe with a needle's point ; 
 
 Or, whilst one is asleep, to take a quill 
 
 And blow a little powder in his ears ; 35 
 
 Or open his mouth, and pour quick-silver down. 
 
 But yet I have a braver way than these. 
 
 Y. Mor. What's that ? 
 
 Light. Nay, you shall pardon me ; none shall know 
 my tricks. 
 
 Y. Mor. I care not how it is, so it be not spied. 40 
 Deliver this to Gurney and Matrevis : [Gives letter. 
 At every ten mile end thou hast a horse : 
 Take this [Gives money] : away, and never see me 
 more ! 
 
 Light No ? 
 
 Y. Mor. No ; unless thou bring me news of Ed- 
 ward's death. 45 
 
 Light. That will I quickly do. Farewell, my lord. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Y. Mor. The prince I rule, the queen do I com- 
 mand, 
 And with a lowly conge to the ground, 
 The proudest lords salute me as I pass : 
 I seal, I cancel, I do what I will. 50 
 
 Fear'd am I more than lov'd ; — let me be fear'd, 
 And, when I frown, make all the court look pale. 
 I view the prince with Aristarchus' eyes, 
 Whose looks were as a breeching to a boy. 
 They thrust upon me the protectorship, $5 
 
 And sue to me for that that I desire. 
 
ACT V. SCENE IV. ioi 
 
 While at the council-table, grave enough, 
 And not unlike a bashful puritan, 
 First I complain of imbecility, 
 
 Saying it is onus quam gravissimum ; 60 
 
 Till, being interrupted by my friends, 
 Suscepi that provinciam as they term it ; 
 And to conclude, I am Protector now. 
 Now is all sure ; the queen and Mortimer 
 Shall rule the realm, the king ; and none rules us. 65 
 Mine enemies will I plague, my friends advance ; 
 And what I list command who dare control ? 
 Major sum quam cut possit fort una nocere j 
 And that this be the coronation-day, 
 It pleaseth me, and Isabel the queen. 70 
 
 [Trumpets within. 
 The trumpets sound, I must go take my place. 
 
 Enter King Edward the Third, Queen Isabella, 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury, Champion, and 
 Nobles. 
 
 Archb. of Cant. Long live King Edward, by the 
 grace of God r 
 King of England, and Lord of Ireland 1 
 
 Cham. If any Christian, Heathen, Turk, or Jew, 
 Dare but affirm, that Edward's not true king, 75 
 
 And will avouch his saying with the sword, 
 I am the champion that will combat him. 
 
 Y. Mor. None comes, sound trumpets ! [Trumpets. 
 
 K. Edw. Third. Champion, here's to thee. 
 
 [Gives purse. 
 
102 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Q. Isab. Lord Mortimer, now take him to your 
 charge. 
 
 Enter Soldiers, with Kent prisoner. 
 
 Y. Mor. What traitor have we there with blades 
 
 and bills ? 80 
 
 First Sold. Edmund, the Earl of Kent. 
 K. Edw. Third. What hath he done ? 
 
 First Sold. 'A would have taken the king away 
 
 perforce, 
 As we were bringing him to Killingworth. 
 
 Y. Mor. Did you attempt his rescue, Edmund ? 
 
 speak. 
 Kent. Mortimer, I did ; he is our king, 85 
 
 And thou compell'st this prince to wear the crown. 
 Y. Mor. Strike off his head ; he shall have martial 
 
 law. 
 Kent. Strike off my head ! base traitor, I defy 
 
 thee ! 
 K. Edw. Third. My lord, he is my uncle, and shall 
 
 live. 
 Y. Mor. My lord, he is your enemy, and shall die. 
 Kent. Stay, villains ! 91 
 
 K. Edw. Third. Sweet mother, if I cannot pardon 
 
 him, 
 Entreat my Lord Protector for his life. 
 
 Q. /sad. Son, be content ; I dare not speak a word. 
 K. Edw. Third. Nor I ; and yet methinks I should 
 
 command ; 95 
 
 But, seeing I cannot, I'll entreat for him. — 
 
ACT V. SCENE V. 103 
 
 My lord, if you will let my uncle live, 
 I will requite it when I come to age. 
 
 Y. Mor. 'Tis for your highness' good, and for the 
 
 realm's. — 
 
 How often shall I bid you bear him hence ? 100 
 
 Kent. Art thou king ? must I die at thy command ? 
 
 Y. Mor. At our command. — Once more, away with 
 
 him ! 
 Kent. Let me but stay and speak ; I will not go : 
 Either my brother or his son is king, 
 And none of both them thirst for Edmund's blood : 
 And therefore, soldiers, whither will you hale me? 
 
 [Soldiers hale Kent away, and carry him 
 to be beheaded. 
 K. Edw. Third. What safety may I look for at his 
 hands, 
 If that my uncle shall be murder'd thus ? 
 
 Q. /sab. Fear not, sweet boy ; I'll guard thee from 
 thy foes ; 
 Had Edmund liv'd, he would have sought thy death. 
 Come, son, we'll ride a-hunting in the park. 1 1 1 
 
 K. Edw. Third. And shall my uncle Edmund ride 
 with us ? 
 
 Q. /sab. He is a traitor ; think not on him ; come. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. A room in Berkeley Castle. 
 
 Enter Matrevis and Gurney. 
 
 Mat. Gurney, I wonder the king dies not, 
 Being in a vault up to the knees in water, 
 
104 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 To which the channels of the castle run, 
 
 From whence a damp continually ariseth, 
 
 That were enough to poison any man, 5 
 
 Much more a king, brought up so tenderly. 
 
 Gur. And so do I, Matrevis : yesternight 
 I open'd but the door to throw him meat, 
 And I was almost stifled with the savour. 
 
 Mat. He hath a body able to endure 10 
 
 More than we can inflict : and therefore now 
 Let us assail his mind another while. 
 
 Gur. Send for him out thence, and I will anger 
 
 him. 
 Mat. But stay ; who's this ? 
 
 Enter Lightborn. 
 
 Light. My Lord Protector greets you. 
 
 [Gives letter. 
 
 Gur. What's here ? I know not how to construe 
 
 it. 15 
 
 Mat. Gurney, it was left unpointed for the nonce ; 
 
 Edivardum occidere nolite fanere, 
 
 That's his meaning. 
 
 Light. Know you this token ? I must have the 
 
 king. [Gives token. 
 
 Mat. Ay, stay a while ; thou shalt have answer 
 
 straight. — 20 
 
 This villain's sent to make away the king. 
 
 Gur. I thought as much. 
 
 Mat. And, when the murder's done, 
 
 See how he must be handled for his labour, — 
 
ACT V. SCENE V. ™5 
 
 Per eat iste I Let him have the king ; 
 
 What else ? Here is the keys, this is the lock ; 25 
 
 Do as you are commanded by my lord. 
 
 Light. I know what I must do. Get you away : 
 Yet be not far off ; I shall need your help ; 
 See that in the next room I have a fire, 
 And get me a spit, and let it be red-hot. 30 
 
 Mat. Very well. 
 
 Gur. Need you anything besides ? 
 
 Light. What else ? a table and a feather-bed. 
 
 Gur. That's all ? 
 
 Light. Ay, ay ; so, when I call you, bring it in. 
 
 Mat. Fear not thou that. 35 
 
 Gur. Here is a light to go into the dungeon. 
 
 [Gives light to Lightborn, and then exit 
 with Matrevis. 
 
 Light. So, now 
 Must I about this gear ; ne'er was there any 
 So finely handled as this king shall be. — 
 Foh, here's a place indeed, with all my heart ! 40 
 
 K. Edw. Who's there? what light is that ? where- 
 fore com'st thou ? 
 
 Light. To comfort you, and bring you joyful news. 
 
 K. Edw. Small comfort finds poor Edward in thy 
 looks : 
 Villain, I know thou com'st to murder me. 
 
 Light. To murden you, my most gracious lord ! 45 
 Far is it from my heart to do you harm. 
 The queen sent me to see how you were us'd, 
 For she relents at this your misery : 
 
106 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 And what eyes can refrain from shedding tears, 
 
 To see a king in this most piteous state ? 50 
 
 K. Edw. Weep'st thou already? list a while to me, 
 And then thy heart, were it as Gurney's is, 
 Or as Matrevis', hewn from the Caucasus, 
 Yet will it melt, ere I have done my tale. 
 This dungeon where they keep me is the sink 55 
 
 Wherein the filth of all the castle falls. 
 
 Light. O villains ! 
 
 K. Edw. And there, in mire and puddle, have I 
 stood 
 This ten days' space ; and, lest that I should sleep, 
 One plays continually upon a drum ; 60 
 
 They give me bread and water, being a king ; 
 So that, for want of sleep and sustenance, 
 My mind's distemper'd, and my body's numb'd, 
 And whether I have limbs or no I know not. 
 O, would my blood dropp'd out from every vein, 65 
 As doth this water from my tatter'd robes ! 
 Tell Isabel, the queen, I look'd not thus, 
 When for her sake I ran at tilt in France, 
 And there unhors'd the Duke of Cleremont. 
 
 Light. O, speak no more, my lord ! this breaks my 
 heart. 70 
 
 Lie on this bed, and rest yourself a while. 
 
 K. Edw. These looks of thine can harbour nought 
 but death ; 
 I see my tragedy written in thy brows. 
 Yet stay a while ; forbear thy bloody hand, 
 And let me see the stroke before it comes, 75 
 
ACT V. SCEN'E /'. 107 
 
 That even then when I shall lose my life, 
 My mind may be more steadfast on my God. 
 
 Light. What means your highness to mistrust me 
 thus ? 
 
 K. Edw. What mean'st thou to dissemble with me 
 thus ? 
 
 Light. These hands were never stain'd with inno- 
 cent blood, 80 
 Nor shall they now be tainted with a king's. 
 
 K. Edw. Forgive my thought for having such a 
 thought. 
 One jewel have I left ; receive thou this : [Giving jewel. 
 Still fear I, and I know not what's the cause, 
 But every joint shakes as I give it thee. 85 
 
 O, if thou harbour'st murder in thy heart, 
 Let this gift change thy mind, and save thy soul ! 
 Know, that I am a king : O, at that name 
 I feel a hell of grief ! where is my crown ? 
 Gone, gone ! and do I remain alive ? 90 
 
 Light. You're overwatch'd, my lord ; lie down and 
 
 rest. 
 K. Edw. But that grief keeps me waking, I should 
 sleep ; 
 For not these ten days have these eye-lids clos'd. 
 Now, as I speak, they fall ; and yet with fear 
 Open again. O wherefore sitt'st thou here ? 95 
 
 Light. If you mistrust me, I'll be gone, my lord. 
 
 K. Edw. No, no ; for if thou mean'st to murder 
 me, 
 Thou wilt return again ; and therefore stay. [Sleeps. 
 
108 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Light. He sleeps. 
 
 K. Edw. [waking\ O let me not die yet ; stay a 
 while. ioo 
 
 Light. How now, my lord ? 
 
 K. Edw. Something still buzzeth in mine ears, 
 And tells me, if I sleep I never wake ; 
 This fear is that which makes me tremble thus ; 
 And therefore tell me, wherefore art thou come ? 105 
 
 Light. To rid thee of thy life. — Matrevis, come. 
 
 Enter Matrevis and Gurney. 
 
 K. Edw. I am too weak and feeble to resist. — 
 Assist me, sweet God, and receive my soul ! 
 
 Light. Run for the table. 
 
 K. Edw. O, spare me, or despatch me in a trice. 
 [Matrevis brings in a table. King 
 Edward is murdered by holding him 
 down on the bed with the table, and 
 stamping on it. 
 Light. So, lay the table down, and stamp on it, 
 But not too hard, lest that you bruise his body. 
 
 Mat. I fear me that this cry will raise the town, 
 And therefore let us take horse and away. 
 
 Light. Tell me, sirs, was it not bravely done ? 115 
 
 Gur. Excellent well ; take this for thy reward. 
 
 [Stabs Lightborn, who dies. 
 Come, let us cast the body in the moat, 
 And bear the king's to Mortimer our lord : 
 Away ! [Exeunt with the bodies. 
 
ACT V. SCENE VI. 109 
 
 Scene VI. Westminster, a room in the palace. 
 Enter the younger Mortimer and Matrevis. 
 
 Y. Mor. Is't done, Matrevis, and the murderer 
 dead ? 
 
 Mat. Ay, my good lord ; I would it were undone ! 
 
 Y. Mor. Matrevis, if thou now grow'st penitent 
 I'll be thy ghostly father ; therefore choose, 
 Whether thou wilt be secret in this, 5 
 
 Or else die by the hand of Mortimer. 
 
 Mat. Gurney, my lord, is fled, and will, I fear, 
 Betray us both ; therefore let me fly. 
 
 Y. Mor. Fly to the savages ! 
 
 Mat. I humbly thank your honour. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Y. Mor. As for myself, I stand as Jove's huge 
 tree, 10 
 
 And others are but shrubs compar'd to me. 
 All tremble at my name, and I fear none ; 
 Let's see who dare impeach me for his death I 
 
 Enter Queen Isabella. 
 
 Q. /sad. Ah, Mortimer, the king my son hath news, 
 His father's dead, and we have murder'd him. 15 
 
 Y. Mor. What if he have ? the king is yet a child. 
 
 Q. Isab. Ay, but he tears his hair, and wrings his 
 hands, 
 And vows to be reveng'd upon us both. 
 Into the council-chamber he is gone, 
 
HO EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 To crave the aid and succour of his peers. 20 
 
 Ay me, see where he comes, and they with him ! 
 Now, Mortimer, begins our tragedy. 
 
 Enter King Edward the Third, Lords, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 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 ; 25 
 
 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. 30 
 
 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. 35 
 
 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 dare say I murder'd him ? 
 
 K. Edw. Third. Traitor, in me my loving father 
 speaks, 
 And plainly saith, 'twas thou that murder'dst him. 40 
 
ACT V. SCENE VI. «I 
 
 Y. Mor. But hath your grace no other proof than 
 this ? 
 
 K. Edw. Third. Yes, if this be the hand of Mor- 
 timer. [Shewing letter. 
 
 Y. Mor. False Gurney hath betray'd me and him- 
 self. [Aside to Queen Isabella. 
 
 Q. I sab. I fear'd as much ; murder cannot be hid. 
 
 Y. Mor. It is my hand ; what gather you by this ? 
 
 K. Edw. Third. That thither thou didst send a 
 
 murderer. 46 
 
 Y. Mor. What murderer ? bring forth the man I 
 
 sent. 
 K. Edw. Third. Ah, Mortimer, thou knovv'st that 
 he is slain ; 
 And so shalt thou be too. — Why stays he here ? 
 Bring him unto a hurdle, drag him forth ; 50 
 
 Hang him, I say, and set his quarters up : 
 But 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. 55 
 
 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 ? — 61 
 
 Farewell, fair queen ; weep not for Mortimer, 
 
112 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 That scorns the world, and, as a traveller, 
 Goes to discover countries yet unknown. 
 
 K. Edw. Third. What, suffer you the traitor to 
 delay ? 65 
 
 [Exit the younger Mortimer with First 
 Lord and some of the Attendants. 
 Q. Tsab. As thou receivedest 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. Isao. I spill his blood ? no. 70 
 
 K. Edw. Third. Ay, madam, you ; for so the 
 
 rumour runs. 
 Q. /sab. 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. 75 
 
 K. Edw. Third. Mother, you are suspected for his 
 death, 
 And therefore we commit you to the Tower, 
 Till farther trial may be made thereof. 
 If you be guilty, though I be your son, 
 Think not to find me slack or pitiful. 80 
 
 Q. /sab. Nay, to my death; for too long have I liv'd, 
 Whenas my son thinks to abridge my days. 
 
 K. Edw. Third. Away with her ! her words enforce 
 these tears, 
 And I shall pity her, if she speak again. 
 
ACT V. SCENE VI. 1 13 
 
 Q. Isab. Shall I not mourn for my beloved lord ? 
 And with the rest accompany him to his grave ? 86 
 
 Sec. Lord. Thus, madam, 'tis the king's will you 
 shall hence. 
 
 Q. Isab. He hath forgotten me ; stay, I am his 
 mother. 
 
 Sec. Lord. That boots not ; therefore, gentle 
 madam, go. 
 
 Q. Isab. Then come, sweet death, and rid me of 
 this grief ! 90 
 
 [Exit with Second Lord and some of the 
 Attendants. 
 
 Re~e?iter First Lord, with the head of the younger 
 Mortimer. 
 
 First Lord. My lord, here is the head of Mortimer. 
 
 K. Edw. Third. Go fetch my father's hearse, where 
 it shall lie ; 
 And bring my funeral robes. [Exeunt Attendants. 
 
 Accursed head, 
 Could I have rul'd thee then as I do now, 
 Thou hadst not hatch'd this monstrous treachery ! — 
 Here comes the hearse : help me to mourn, my lords. 
 
 Re-enter Attendants, with the hearse and funeral robes. 
 
 Sweet father, here unto thy murder'd ghost 
 
 I offer up this wicked traitor's head ; 
 
 And let these tears, distilling from mine eyes, 
 
 Be witness of my grief and innocency. [Exeunt. 
 
SELECTIONS FROM 
 TAMBURLAINE AND THE POEMS. 
 
FROM "TAMBURLAINE THE 
 GREAT." 
 
 [Tamburlaine, a Scythian shepherd, having become the head of 
 a powerful force, has set out to conquer the world. He has just 
 captured Zenocrate, daughter of the Soldan of Egypt, and is 
 wooing her.] 
 
 (Part I. Act I. Sc. 2.) 
 
 Zenocrate, lovelier than the love of Jove, 
 Brighter than is the silver Rhodope, 
 Fairer than whitest snow on Scythian hills, — 
 Thy person is more worth to Tamburlaine, 
 Than the possession of the Persian crown, 5 
 
 Which gracious stars have promised at my birth. 
 A hundred Tartars shall attend on thee, 
 Mounted on steeds swifter than Pegasus ; 
 Thy garments shall be made of Median silk, 
 Enchased with precious jewels of mine own, 10 
 
 More rich and valurous than Zenocrate's. 
 With milk-white harts upon an ivory sled 
 Thou shalt be drawn amidst the frozen pools, 
 And scale the icy mountains' lofty tops, 
 Which with thy beauty will be soon resolved. 15 
 
 My martial prizes with five hundred men, 
 Won on the fifty-headed Volga's waves, 
 Shall we all offer to Zenocrate, — 
 And then myself to fair Zenocrate. 
 117 
 
Ii8 SELECTIONS FROM TAMBURLAINE. 
 
 Techelles. What now ! — in love ? 20 
 
 Tamburlaine. Techelles, women must be flattered : 
 But this is she with whom I am in love. 
 
 [Tamburlaine addresses Theridamas, who commands the Persian 
 force sent against the " Tartarian rout."] 
 
 Forsake thy king, and do but join with me, 
 
 And we will triumph over all the world ; 
 
 I hold the Fates bound fast in iron chains, 25 
 
 And with my hand turn Fortune's wheel about : 
 
 And sooner shall the sun fall from his sphere, 
 
 Than Tamburlaine be slain or overcome. 
 
 Draw forth thy sword, thou mighty man-at-arms, 
 
 Intending but to raze my charmed skin, 30 
 
 And Jove himself will stretch his hand from Heaven 
 
 To ward the blow and shield me safe from harm. 
 
 See how he rains down heaps of gold in showers, 
 
 As if he meant to give my soldiers pay ! 
 
 And as a sure and grounded argument, 35 
 
 That I shall be the monarch of the East, 
 
 He sends his Soldan's daughter rich and brave, 
 
 To be my Queen and portly Emperess. 
 
 If thou wilt stay with me, renowned man, 
 
 And lead thy thousand horse with my conduct, 40 
 
 Besides thy share of this Egyptian prize, 
 
 Those thousand horse shall sweat with martial spoil 
 
 Of conquered kingdoms and of cities sacked ; 
 
 Both we will walk upon the lofty cliffs, 
 
 And Christian merchants that with Russian stems 45 
 
 Plough up huge furrows in the Caspian sea, 
 
 Shall vail to us, as lords of all the lake. 
 
 Both we will reign as consuls of the earth, 
 
PART I. ACT II. SCENE I. 119 
 
 And mighty kings shall be our senators. 
 
 Jove sometime masked in a shepherd's weed, 50 
 
 And by those steps that he hath scaled the Heavens 
 
 May we become immortal like the gods. 
 
 Join with me now in this my mean estate, 
 
 (I call it mean because, being yet obscure, 
 
 The nations far removed admire me not,) 55 
 
 And when my name and honour shall be spread 
 
 As far as Boreas claps his brazen wings, 
 
 Or fair Bootes sends his cheerful light, 
 
 Then shalt thou be competitor with me, 
 
 And sit with Tamburlaine in all his majesty. 60 
 
 [Cosroe is on his way to seek the aid of Tamburlaine, in his 
 rebellion against his brother Mycetes, the witless King of Persia] 
 
 (Part I. Act II. Sc. i.) 
 
 Cosroe. Thus far are we towards Theridamas, 
 And valiant Tamburlaine, the man of fame, 
 The man that in the forehead of his fortune 
 Bears figures of renown and miracle. 
 But tell me, that hast seen him, Menaphon, 5 
 
 What stature wields he, and what personage ? 
 
 Menaphon. Of stature tall, and straightly fashioned, 
 Like his desire lift upward and divine ; 
 So large of limbs, his joints so strongly knit, 
 Such breadth of shoulders as might mainly bear 10 
 Old Atlas' burthen ; — 'twixt his manly pitch, 
 A pearl, more worth than all the world, is placed, 
 Wherein by curious sovereignty of art 
 Are fixed his piercing instruments of sight, 
 Whose fiery circles bear encompassed 15 
 
120 SELECTIONS FROM TAMBURLAINE. 
 
 A heaven of heavenly bodies in their spheres, 
 
 That guides his steps and actions to the throne 
 
 Where honour sits invested royally : 
 
 Pale of complexion, wrought in him with passion, 
 
 Thirsting with sovereignty and love of arms ; 20 
 
 His lofty brows in folds do figure death, 
 
 And in their smoothness amity and life ; 
 
 About them hangs a knot of amber hair, 
 
 Wrapped in curls, as fierce Achilles' was, 
 
 On which the breath of Heaven delights to play, 25 
 
 Making it dance with wanton majesty. — 
 
 His arms and fingers, long, and sinewy, 
 
 Betokening valour and excess of strength ; — 
 
 In every part proportioned like the man 
 
 Should make the world subdued to Tamburlaine. 30 
 
 [Tamburlaine has just heard Cosroe assured that through the 
 defeat of Mycetes he now shall have his wish — and ride in triumph 
 through Persepolis.] 
 
 (.Part I. Act II. Sc. 5.) 
 
 Tamburlaine. " And ride in triumph through Per- 
 sepolis " ! 
 Is it not brave to be a king, Techelles? 
 Usumcasane and Theridamas, 
 Is it not passing brave to be a king, 
 " And ride in triumph through Persepolis " ? 35 
 
 Techelles. O, my lord, 'tis sweet and full of pomp. 
 
 Usu?ncasane. To be a king is half to be a god. 
 
 Theridamas. A god is not so glorious as a king. 
 I think the pleasure they enjoy in Heaven, 
 Cannot compare with kingly joys in earth. — 40 
 
PART I. ACT II. SCENE V. 121 
 
 To wear a crown enchased with pearl and gold, 
 Whose virtues carry with it life and death ; 
 To ask and have, command and be obeyed ; 
 When looks breed love, with looks to gain the prize, 
 Such power attractive shines in princes' eyes ! 45 
 
 Tamburlaine. Why say, Theridamas, wilt thou be 
 
 a king ? 
 Theridamas. Nay, though I praise it, I can live 
 
 without it. 
 Tamburlaine. What say my other friends ? Will you 
 
 be kings ? 
 Techelles. I, if I could, with all my heart, my lord, 
 Tamburlaine. Why, that's well said, Techelles ; so 
 would I, 50 
 
 And so would you, my masters, would you not ? 
 Usumcasane. What then, my lord ? 
 Tamburlaine. Why then, Casane, shall we wish for 
 aught 
 The world affords in greatest novelty, 
 And rests attemptless, faint and destitute ? 55 
 
 Methinks we should not : I am strongly moved, 
 That if I should desire the Persian crown, 
 I could attain it with a wondrous ease. 
 And would not all our soldiers soon consent, 
 If we should aim at such a dignity ? 60 
 
 Theridamas. I know they would with our persua- 
 sions. 
 
 Tamburlaine. Why then, Theridamas, I'll first assay 
 To get the Persian kingdom to myself ; 
 Then thou for Parthia ; they for Scythia and Media ; 
 
122 SELECTIONS FROM TAMBURLAINE. 
 
 And, if I prosper, all shall be as sure 65 
 
 As if the Turk, the Pope, Afric and Greece, 
 Came creeping to us with their crowns apace. 
 
 [Tamburlaine has won his victory over Cosroe.] 
 
 {Part I. Act II. Sc. 7-) 
 
 Tamburlaine. The thirst of reign and sweetness of a 
 crown, 
 That caused the eldest son of heavenly Ops 
 To thrust his doting father from his chair, 70 
 
 And place himself in the empyreal Heaven, 
 Moved me to manage arms against thy state. 
 What better precedent than mighty Jove? 
 Nature that framed us of four elements, 
 Warring within our breasts for regiment, 75 
 
 Doth teach us all to have aspiring minds : 
 Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend 
 The wondrous architecture of the world, 
 And measure every wandering planet's course, 
 Still climbing after knowledge infinite, 80 
 
 And always moving as the restless spheres, 
 Will us to wear ourselves, and never rest, 
 Until we reach the ripest fruit of all, 
 That perfect bliss and sole felicity, 
 The sweet fruition of an earthly crown. 85 
 
 [Agydas, a Median lord in whose care Zenocrate had been before 
 her capture, is urging her to be loyal to the Prince of Arabia, 
 not perceiving that Tamburlaine is within hearing.] 
 
 (Parti. Act III. Sc. 2.) 
 
 Agydas. How can you fancy one that looks so 
 fierce, 
 
PART I. ACT III. SCENE II. 1 23 
 
 Only disposed to martial stratagems ? 
 
 Who, when he shall embrace you in his arms, 
 
 Will tell how many thousand men he slew ; 
 
 And when you look for amorous discourse, 5 
 
 Will rattle forth his facts of war and blood, 
 
 Too harsh a subject for your dainty ears. 
 
 Zenocrate. As looks the Sun through Nilus' flowing 
 stream, 
 Or when the Morning holds him in her arms, 
 So looks my lordly love, fair Tamburlaine ; 10 
 
 His talk more sweeter than the Muses' song 
 They sung for honour 'gainst Pierides ; 
 Or when Minerva did with Neptune strive : 
 And higher would I rear my estimate 
 Than Juno, sister to the highest god, 15 
 
 If I were matched with mighty Tamburlaine. 
 
 Agydas. Yet be not so inconstant in your love ; 
 But let the young Arabian live in hope 
 After your rescue to enjoy his choice. 
 You see though first the King of Persia, 20 
 
 Being a shepherd, seemed to love you much, 
 Now in his majesty he leaves those looks, 
 Those words of favour, and those comfortings, 
 And gives no more than common courtesies. 
 
 Zenocrate. Thence rise the tears that so distain my 
 cheeks, 25 
 
 Fearing his love through my unworthiness. — 
 
 [Tamburlaine goes to her and takes her away lovingly by the 
 hand, looking wrathfully on Agydas. Exeunt all but Agydas.] 
 
 Agydas. Betrayed by fortune and suspicious love, 
 Threatened with frowning wrath and jealousy, 
 
124 SELECTIONS FROM TAMBURLAINE. 
 
 Surprised with fear of hideous revenge, 
 
 I stand aghast ; but most astonied 30 
 
 To see his choler shut in secret thoughts, 
 
 And wrapt in silence of his angry soul. 
 
 Upon his brows was pourtrayed ugly death ; 
 
 And in his eyes the furies of his heart 
 
 That shone as comets, menacing revenge, 35 
 
 And cast a pale complexion on his cheeks. 
 
 As when the seaman sees the Hyades 
 
 Gather an army of Cimmerian clouds, 
 
 (Auster and Aquilon with winged steeds, 
 
 All sweating, tilt about the watery Heavens, 40 
 
 With shivering spears enforcing thunder claps, 
 
 And from their shields strike flames of lightning,) 
 
 All-fearful folds his sails and sounds the main, 
 
 Lifting his prayers to the Heavens for aid 
 
 Against the terror of the winds and waves, 45 
 
 So fares Agydas for the late-felt frowns, 
 
 That sent a tempest to my daunted thoughts, 
 
 And make my soul divine her overthrow. 
 
 [A messenger explains to the Soldan of Egypt the practice of 
 Tamburlaine toward his enemies.] 
 
 (Part I. Act IV. Sc. i.) 
 
 Pleaseth your mightiness to understand, 
 
 His resolution far exeedeth all. 
 
 The first day when he pitcheth down his tents, 
 
 White is their hue, and on his silver crest 
 
 A snowy feather spangled white he bears, 5 
 
 To signify the mildness of his mind, 
 
 That, satiate with spoil, refuseth blood. 
 
 But when Aurora mounts the second time 
 
PART I. ACT. V. SCENE I. 1 25 
 
 As red as scarlet is his furniture ; 
 
 Then must his kindled wrath be quenched with blood, 
 
 Not sparing any that can manage. arms ; 11 
 
 But if these threats move not submission, 
 
 Black are his colours, black pavilion ; 
 
 His spear, his shield, his horse, his armour, plumes, 
 
 And jetty feathers, menace death and hell ! 15 
 
 Without respect of sex, degree, or age, 
 
 He razeth all his foes with fire and sword. 
 
 [Immediately after an unusually merciless exhibition of the con- 
 queror's stern character, in the murder of suppliant virgins who 
 had come to plead for Damascus (the city having refused to sur- 
 render until the third day), Tamburlaine speaks this soliloquy.] 
 
 (Part I. Act V. Sc. 1.) 
 
 Ah, fair Zenocrate ! — divine Zenocrate ! — 
 
 Fair is too foul an epithet for thee, 
 
 That in thy passion for thy country's love, 
 
 And fear to see thy kingly father's harm, 
 
 With hair dishevelled wip'st thy watery cheeks, 5 
 
 And, like to Flora in her morning pride 
 
 Shaking her silver tresses in the air, 
 
 Rain'st on the earth resolved pearl in showers, 
 
 And sprinklest sapphires on thy shining face, 
 
 Where Beauty, mother to the Muses, sits 10 
 
 And comments volumes with her ivory pen, 
 
 Taking instructions from thy flowing eyes ; 
 
 Eyes that, when Ebena steps to Heaven, 
 
 In silence of thy solemn evening's walk, 
 
 Make, in the mantle of the richest night, 15 
 
 The moon, the planets, and the meteors, light ; 
 
 There angels in their crystal armours fight 
 
126 SELECTIONS FROM TAMBURLAINE. 
 
 A doubtful battle with my tempted thoughts 
 
 For Egypt's freedom, and the Soldan's life ; 
 
 His life that so consumes Zenocrate, 20 
 
 Whose sorrows lay more siege unto my soul, 
 
 Than all my army to Damascus' walls : 
 
 And neither Persia's sovereign, nor the Turk 
 
 Troubled my senses with conceit of foil 
 
 So much by much as doth Zenocrate. 25 
 
 What is beauty, saith my sufferings, then ? 
 
 If all the pens that ever poets held 
 
 Had fed the feeling of their masters' thoughts, 
 
 And every sweetness that inspired their hearts, 
 
 Their minds, and muses on admired themes ; 30 
 
 If all the heavenly quintessence they still 
 
 From their immortal flowers of poesy, 
 
 Wherein, as in a mirror, we perceive 
 
 The highest reaches of a human wit ; 
 
 If these had made one poem's period, 35 
 
 And all combined in beauty's worthiness, 
 
 Yet should there hover in their restless heads 
 
 One thought, one grace, one wonder, at the least, 
 
 Which into words no virtue can digest. 
 
 But how unseemly is it for my sex, 40 
 
 My discipline of arms and chivalry, 
 
 My nature, and the terror of my name, 
 
 To harbour thoughts effeminate and faint ! 
 
 Save only that in beauty's just applause, 
 
 With whose instinct the soul of man is touched, — 45 
 
 And every warrior that is rapt with love 
 
 Of fame, of valour, and of victory, 
 
 Must needs have beauty beat on his conceits, — 
 
 I thus conceiving and subduing both 
 
PART II. ACT II. SCENE IV. 127 
 
 That which hath stooped the chiefest of the gods, 50 
 
 Even from the fiery-spangled veil of Heaven, 
 
 To feel the lovely warmth of shepherds' flames, 
 
 And mask in cottages of strowed reeds, 
 
 Shall give the world to note, for all my birth, 
 
 That virtue solely is the sum of glory, 55 
 
 And fashions men with trwe nobility. 
 
 [Zenocrate is dying, with Tamburlaine sitting by her. About her 
 bed are three Physicians tempering potions. Around are Ther- 
 imadas, Techelles, Usumcasane, and her three Sons]. 
 
 {Part II. Act II. SC.4O 
 
 Tamb. Black is the beauty of the brightest day ; 
 The golden ball of Heaven's eternal fire, 
 That danced with glory on the silver waves, 
 Now wants the fuel that inflamed his beams ; 
 And all with faintness, and for foul disgrace, 5 
 
 He binds his temples with a frowning cloud, 
 Ready to darken earth with endless night. 
 Zenocrate, that gave him light and life, 
 Whose eyes shot fire from their ivory bowers 
 And tempered every soul with lively heat, 10 
 
 Now by the malice of the angry skies, 
 Whose jealousy admits no second mate, 
 Draws in the comfort of her latest breath, 
 All dazzled with the hellish mists of death. 
 Now walk the angels on the walls of Heaven, 15 
 
 As sentinels to warn the immortal souls 
 To entertain divine Zenocrate. 
 Apollo, Cynthia, and the ceaseless lamps 
 That gently looked upon this loathsome earth, 
 Shine downward now no more, but deck the Heavens, 
 
128 SELECTIONS FROM TAMBURLAINE. 
 
 To entertain divine Zenocrate. 21 
 
 The crystal springs, whose taste illuminates 
 
 Refined eyes with an eternal sight, 
 
 Like tried silver, run through Paradise, 
 
 To entertain divine Zenocrate. 25 
 
 The cherubins and holy seraphins, 
 
 That sing and play before the King of kings, 
 
 Use all their voices and their instruments 
 
 To entertain divine Zenocrate. 
 
 And in this sweet and curious harmony, 30 
 
 The God that tunes this music to our souls, 
 
 Holds out his hand in highest majesty 
 
 To entertain divine Zenocrate. 
 
 Then let some holy trance convey my thoughts 
 
 Up to the palace of th' empyreal Heaven, 35 
 
 That this my life may be as short to me 
 
 As are the days of sweet Zenocrate. 
 
 Physicians, will no physic do her good ? 
 
 Phys. My lord, your majesty shall soon perceive : 
 And if she pass this fit, the worst is past. 40 
 
 Tamb. Tell me, how fares my fair Zenocrate ? 
 
 Zeno. I fare, my lord, as other empresses, 
 That, when this frail and transitory flesh 
 Hath sucked the measure of that vital air 
 That feeds the body with his dated health, 45 
 
 Wade with enforced and necessary change. 
 
 Tamb. May never such a change transform my love, 
 In whose sweet being I repose my life, 
 Whose heavenly presence, beautified with health, 
 Gives light to Phoebus and the fixed stars ! 50 
 
 Whose absence makes the sun and moon as dark 
 
PART II. ACT II. SCENE IV. 129 
 
 As when, opposed in one diameter, 
 
 Their spheres are mounted on the serpent's head, 
 
 Or else descended to his winding train. 
 
 Live still, my love, and so conserve my life, 55 
 
 Or, dying, be the author of my death ! 
 
 Zeno. Live still, my lord ! O, let my sovereign live ! 
 And sooner let the fiery element 
 Dissolve and make your kingdom in the sky, 
 Than this base earth should shroud your majesty : 60 
 For should I but suspect your death by mine, 
 The comfort of my future happiness, 
 And hope to meet your highness in the Heavens, 
 Turned to despair, would break my wretched breast, 
 And fury would confound my present rest. 65 
 
 But let me die, my love ; yet let me die ; 
 With love and patience let your true love die ! 
 Your grief and fury hurts my second life. — 
 Yet let me kiss my lord before I die, 
 And let me die with kissing of my lord. 7° 
 
 But since my life is lengthened yet a while, 
 Let me take leave of these my loving sons, 
 And of my lords, whose true nobility 
 Have merited my latest memory. 
 
 Sweet sons, farewell ! In death resemble me, 75 
 
 And in your lives your father's excellence. 
 Some music, and my fit will cease, my lord. 
 
 \They call for music. 
 
 Tamb. Proud fury, and intolerable fit, 
 That dares torment the body of my love, 
 And scourge the scourge of the immortal God : 80 
 Now are those spheres, where Cupid used to sit, 
 Wounding the world with wonder and with love, 
 
13° SELECTIONS FROM TAMBURLAINE. 
 
 Sadly supplied with pale and ghastly death, 
 Whose darts do pierce the centre of my soul. 
 Her sacred beauty hath enchanted Heaven ; 85 
 
 And had she lived before the siege of Troy, 
 Helen (whose beauty summoned Greece to arms, 
 And drew a thousand ships to Tenedos) 
 Had not been named in Homer's Iliads ; 
 Her name had been in every line he wrote. 90 
 
 Or had those wanton poets, for whose birth 
 Old Rome was proud, but gazed a while on her, 
 Nor Lesbia nor Corinna had been named ; 
 Zenocrate had been the argument 
 Of every epigram or elegy. 95 
 
 [T/ie music sounds. — Zenocrate dies. 
 What ! is she dead ? Techelles, draw thy sword 
 And wound the earth, that it may cleave in twain, 
 And we descend into the infernal vaults, 
 To hale the Fatal Sisters by the hair, 
 And throw them in the triple moat of hell, 100 
 
 For taking hence my fair Zenocrate. 
 Casane and Theridamas, to arms ! 
 Raise cavalieros higher than the clouds, 
 And with the cannon break the frame of Heaven ; 
 Batter the shining palace of the sun, 105 
 
 And shiver all the starry firmament, 
 For amorous Jove hath snatched my love from hence. 
 Meaning to make her stately queen of Heaven. 
 What God soever holds thee in his arms, 
 Giving thee nectar and ambrosia, no 
 
 Behold me here, divine Zenocrate, 
 Raving, impatient, desperate, and mad, 
 Breaking my steeled lance, with which I burst 
 
PART II ACT II. SCENE IV. 131 
 
 The rusty beams of Janus' temple-doors, 
 Letting out Death and tyrannising War, 115 
 
 To march with me under this bloody flag ! 
 And if thou pitiest Tamburlaine the Great, 
 Come down from Heaven, and live with me again ! 
 Ther. Ah, good my lord, be patient ; she is dead, 
 And all this raging cannot make her live. 120 
 
 If words might serve, our voice hath rent the air ; 
 If tears, our eyes have watered all the earth ; 
 If grief, our murdered hearts have strained forth 
 
 blood ; 
 Nothing prevails, for she is dead, my lord. 
 
 Tamb. For she is dead ! Thy words do pierce my 
 
 soul! 125 
 
 Ah, sweet Theridamas ! say so no more ; 
 Though she be dead, yet let me think she lives, 
 And feed my mind that dies for want of her. 
 Where'er her soul be, thou \_To the body] shalt stay 
 
 with me, 
 Embalmed with cassia, ambergris, and myrrh, 130 
 
 Not lapt in lead, but in a sheet of gold, 
 And till 1 die thou shalt not be interred. 
 Then in as rich a tomb as Mausolus' 
 We both will rest and have one epitaph 
 Writ in as many several languages 135 
 
 As I have conquered kingdoms with my sword. 
 This cursed town will I consume with fire, 
 Because this place bereft me of my love : 
 The houses, burnt, will look as if they mourned ; 
 And here will I set up her statua, 140 
 
 And march about it with my mourning camp 
 Drooping and pining for Zenocrate. 
 
I3 2 SELECTIONS FROM TAMBURLAINE. 
 
 [Theridamas addresses Olympia, who, after stabbing her son, to 
 save him from captivity, has attempted to kill herself.] 
 
 {Part II. Act III. Sc. 4.) 
 
 But, lady, go with us to Tamburlaine, 
 
 And thou shalt see a man greater than Mahomet, 
 
 In whose. high looks is much more majesty 
 
 Than from the concave superficies 
 
 Of Jove's vast palace, the empyreal orb, 5 
 
 Unto the shining bower where Cynthia sits, 
 
 Like lovely Thetis, in a crystal robe ; 
 
 That treadeth Fortune underneath his feet, 
 
 And makes the mighty god of arms his slave ; 
 
 On whom Death and the Fatal Sisters wait 10 
 
 With naked swords and scarlet liveries : 
 
 Before whom, mounted on a lion's back, 
 
 Rhamnusia bears a helmet full of blood, 
 
 And strews the way with brains of slaughtered men ; 
 
 By whose proud side the ugly Furies run, 15 
 
 Hearkening when he shall bid them plague the world ; 
 
 Over whose zenith, clothed in windy air, 
 
 And eagle's wings joined to her feathered breast, 
 
 Fame hovereth, sounding of her golden trump, 
 
 That to the adverse poles of that straight line, 20 
 
 Which measureth the glorious frame of Heaven, 
 
 The name of mighty Tamburlaine is spread, 
 
 And him, fair lady, shall thy eyes behold. 
 
 [Theridamas is mourning for Olympia, whom he loved.] 
 {Part II. Act IV. Sc. 2.) 
 
 Now hell is fairer than Elysium ; 
 
 A greater lamp than that bright eye of Heaven, 
 
PART II. ACT IV. SCENE III. 133 
 
 From whence the stars do borrow all their light, 
 
 Wanders about the black circumference ; 
 
 And now the damned souls are free from pain, 5 
 
 For every Fury gazeth on her looks ; 
 
 Infernal Dis is courting of my love, 
 
 Inventing masks and stately shows for her, 
 
 Opening the doors of his rich treasury 
 
 To entertain this queen of chastity ; 10 
 
 Whose body shall be tombed with all the pomp 
 
 The treasure of my kingdom may afford. 
 
 [Tamburlaine enters, drawn in his chariot by the Kings of 
 Trebizond and Soria, with bits in their mouths : in his right hand 
 he has a whip with which he scourgeth them, while his left 
 hand holds the reins ; then come Techelles, Theridamas, Usum- 
 casane, Amyras, and Celebinus with the Kings of Natolia and 
 Jerusalem, led by five or six common Soldiers. 
 
 {Part II. Act IV. Sc. 3.) 
 
 Tamb. Holla, ye pampered jades of Asia ! 
 What ! can ye draw but twenty miles a day, 
 And have so proud a chariot at your heels, 15 
 
 And such a coachman as great Tamburlaine, 
 But from Asphaltis, where I conquered you, 
 To Byron here, where thus I honour you ! 
 The horse that guide the golden eye of Heaven, 
 And blow the morning from their nosterils, 20 
 
 Making their fiery gait above the clouds, 
 Are not so honoured in their governor, 
 As you, ye slaves, in mighty Tamburlaine. 
 The headstrong jades of Thrace Alcides tamed, 
 That King Egeus fed with human flesh, 25 
 
 And made so wanton that they knew their strengths, 
 
134 SELECTIONS FROM TAMBURLAINE. 
 
 Were not subdued with valour more divine 
 
 Than you by this unconquered arm of mine. 
 
 To make you fierce, and fit my appetite, 
 
 You shall be fed with flesh as raw as blood, 30 
 
 And drink in pails the strongest muscadel ; 
 
 If you can live with it, then live, and draw 
 
 My chariot swifter than the racking clouds ; 
 
 If not, then die like beasts, and fit for naught 
 
 But perches for the black and fatal ravens. 35 
 
 Thus am I right the scourge of highest Jove ; 
 
 And see the figure of my dignity, 
 
 By which I hold my name and majesty ! 
 
 Amyras. Let me have coach, my lord, that I may 
 ride, 
 And thus be drawn by these two idle kings. 40 
 
 Tamb. Thy youth forbids such ease, my kingly 
 
 boy; 
 They shall to-morrow draw my chariot, 
 While these their fellow-kings may be refreshed. 
 King of Natolia. O thou that sway'st the region 
 
 under earth, 
 And art a king as absolute as Jove, 45 
 
 Come as thou didst in fruitful Sicily, 
 Surveying all the glories of the land, 
 And as thou took'st the fair Proserpina, 
 Joying the fruit of Ceres' garden-plot, 
 For love, for honour, and to make her queen, 50 
 
 So for just hate, for shame, and to subdue 
 This proud contemner of thy dreadful power, 
 Come once in fury and survey his pride, 
 Haling him headlong to the lowest hell. 
 
PART II. ACT V. SCENE III. 135 
 
 [Tamburlaine, stricken by disease, is drawn in upon his chariot 
 by the captive kings, and feels the approach of death.] 
 
 {Part II. Act V. Sc. 3.) 
 
 Tamb. What daring god torments my body thus, 
 And seeks to conquer mighty Tamburlaine ? 
 Shall sickness prove me now to be a man, 
 That have been termed the terror of the world ? 
 Techelles and the rest, come, take your swords, 5 
 
 And threaten him whose hand afflicts my soul. 
 Come, let us march against the powers of Heaven, 
 And set black streamers in the firmament, 
 To signify the slaughter of the gods. 
 
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS 
 LOVE. 
 
 Come live with me, and be my love ; 
 And we will all the pleasures prove 
 That hills and valleys, dales and fields, 
 Woods or steepy mountain yields. 
 
 And we will sit upon the rocks, 5 
 
 Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks 
 By shallow rivers, to whose falls 
 Melodious birds sing madrigals. 
 
 And I will make thee beds of roses, 
 
 And a thousand fragrant posies : 10 
 
 A cap of flowers, and a kirtle 
 
 Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle. 
 
 A gown made of the finest wool 
 
 Which from our pretty lambs we pull, 
 
 Fair-lined slippers for the cold, 15 
 
 With buckles of the purest gold ; 
 
 A belt of straw and ivy-buds, 
 
 With coral clasps and amber studs ; 
 
 And if these pleasures may thee move, 
 
 Come live with me, and be my love. 20 
 
 The shepherd- swains shall dance and sing 
 For thy delight each May morning : 
 If these delights thy mind may move, 
 Then live with me, and be my love. 
 
 136 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 1 37 
 
 From the first Sesiiad of 
 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 On Hellespont, guilty of true love's blood, 
 
 In view and opposite two cities stood, 
 
 Sea-borderers, disjoin'd by Neptune's might ; 
 
 The one Abydos, the other Sestos hight. 
 
 At Sestos Hero dwelt ; Hero the fair, 5 
 
 Whom young Apollo courted for her hair, 
 
 And offer'd as a dower his burning throne, 
 
 Where she should sit, for men to gaze upon. 
 
 The outside of her garments were of lawn, 
 
 The lining purple silk, with gilt stars drawn ; 10 
 
 Her wide sleeves green, and bordered with a grove, 
 
 Where Venus in her naked glory strove 
 
 To please the careless and disdainful eyes 
 
 Of proud Adonis, that before her lies ; 
 
 Her kirtle blue, whereon was many a stain, 15 
 
 Made with the blood of wretched lovers slain. 
 
 Upon her head she wore a myrtle wreath, 
 
 From whence her veil reach'd to the ground beneath ; 
 
 Her veil was artificial flowers and leaves, 
 
 Whose workmanship both man and beast deceives. 20 
 
 Amorous Leander, beautiful and young, 
 
 (Whose tragedy divine Musaesus sung,) 
 
 Dwelt at Abydos ; since him dwelt there none 
 
 For whom succeeding times make greater moan. 
 
 His dangling tresses, that were never shorn, 25 
 
 Had they been cut, and unto Colchos borne, 
 
I3 8 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 Would have allur'd the venturous youth of Greece 
 
 To hazard more than for the golden fleece. 
 
 Fair Cynthia wished his arms might be her sphere ; 
 
 Grief makes her pale, because she moves not there. 30 
 
 His body was as straight as Circe's wand ; 
 
 Jove might have sipt out nectar from his hand. 
 
 Even as delicious meat is to the tast, 
 
 So was his neck in touching, and surpast 
 
 The white of Pelops' shoulder : I could tell ye, 35 
 
 How smooth his breast was, and how white his belly; 
 
 And whose immortal fingers did imprint 
 
 That heavenly path with many a curious dint 
 
 That runs along his back ; but my rude pen 
 
 Can hardly blazon forth the loves of men, 40 
 
 Much less of powerful gods : let it suffice 
 
 That my slack Muse sings of Leander's eyes ; 
 
 Those orient cheeks and lips, exceeding his 
 
 That leapt into the water for a kiss 
 
 Of his own shadow, and despising many, 45 
 
 Died ere he could enjoy the love of any. 
 
 Had wild Hippolytus Leander seen, 
 
 Enamour'd of his beauty had he been : 
 
 His presence made the rudest peasant melt, 
 
 That in the vast uplandish country dwelt ; 50 
 
 The barbarous Thracian soldier, mov'd with nought, 
 
 Was mov'd with him, and for his favor sought, 
 
 The men of wealthy Sestos every year, 
 
 For his sake whom their goddess held so dear, 
 
 Rose-cheek'd Adonis, kept a solemn feast : 55 
 
 Thither resorted many a wandering guest 
 
 To meet their loves : such as had none at all, 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 139 
 
 Came lovers home from this great festival. 
 
 On this feast-day — O cursed day and hour ! 
 
 Went Hero thorough Sestos, from her tower 60 
 
 To Venus' temple, where unhappily, 
 
 As after chanc'd, they did each other spy. 
 
 So fair a church as this had Venus none : 
 
 The walls were of discolour'd jasper-stone, 
 
 Wherein was Proteus carv'd ; and over-head 65 
 
 A lively vine of green sea-agate spread, 
 
 Where by one hand light-headed Bacchus hung, 
 
 And with the other wine from grapes out-wrung. 
 
 Of crystal shining fair the pavement was ; 
 
 The town of Sestos call'd it Venus' glass : 70 
 
 And in the midst a silver altar stood : 
 
 There Hero, sacrificing turtles' blood, 
 
 Vail'd to the ground, veiling her eyelids close ; 
 
 And modestly they opened as she rose : 
 
 Thence flew Love's arrow with the golden head ; 75 
 
 And thus Leander was enamoured. 
 
 Stone-still he stood, and evermore he gaz'd, 
 
 Till with the fire, that from his countenance blaz'd, 
 
 Relenting Hero's gentle heart was strook : 
 
 Such force and virtue hath an amorous look. 80 
 
 It lies not in our power to love or hate, 
 For will in us is over-rul'd by fate. 
 When two are stript, long ere the course begin, 
 We wish that one should lose, the other win ; 
 And one especially do we affect 85 
 
 Of two gold ingots, like in each respect : 
 
HO HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 The reason no man knows ; let it suffice, 
 
 What we behold is censur'd by our eyes. 
 
 Where both deliberate, the love is slight ; 
 
 Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight ? 90 
 
 He kneel'd ; but unto her devoutly pray'd : 
 Chaste Hero to herself thus softly said, 
 " Were I the saint he worships, I would hear him " ; 
 And, as she spake those words, came somewhat near 
 
 him. 
 He started up ; she blush'd as one asham'd ; 95 
 
 Wherewith Leander much more was inflam'd. 
 He touch'd her hand ; in touching it she trembled : 
 Love deeply grounded, hardly is dissembled. 
 These lovers parled by the touch of hands : 
 True love is mute, and oft amazed stands. 100 
 
 Thus while dumb signs their yielding hearts en- 
 tangled, 
 The air with sparks of living fire was spangled ; 
 And night, deep-drench'd in misty Acheron, 
 Heaved up her head, and half the world upon 
 Breath'd darkness forth. 105 
 
 (Hero speaks) : 
 "Upon a rock, and underneath a hill, 
 Far from the town, (where all is whist and still, 
 Save that the sea, playing on yellow sand, 
 Sends forth a rattling murmur to the land, 
 Whose sound allures the golden Morpheus no 
 
 In silence of the night to visit us,) 
 My turret stands ; and there God knows, I play 
 With Venus' swans and sparrows all the day. 
 A dwarfish beldam bears me company, 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 141 
 
 That hops about the chamber where I lie, 1 15 
 
 And spends the night, that might be better spent, 
 In vain discourse and apish merriment : — 
 Come thither." As she spake this, her tongue tripped, 
 For unawares, " Come thither," from her slipp'd. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 The heavy figures refer to the pages of the text ; the lighter figures to 
 the lines. 
 
 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 I. This play was entered for publication a few weeks after 
 Marlowe's death, and was composed perhaps three years earlier. 
 In reading it, we feel that Marlowe was schooling himself ; he 
 seems to have taken the pledge against his earlier verbal intoxica- 
 tions. He carefully works out an excellent plot, with an elabo- 
 rate variety of characters, and, as a dramatic whole, the result is 
 superior to Faustus or The Jew of Malta. Yet there is a labored 
 air to the play, and many passages are crude. The brilliancy of 
 his earlier writings is for the most part lost. However, the work 
 is of interest and value in itself, and still more as a dramatic land- 
 mark : moreover, its elaborate and sustained treatment both by 
 guidance and inspiration rendered very important service to the 
 drama of the wonderful closing decade of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury. The worthiest tribute has been paid it by Shakespeare's 
 study — something manifest from the comparison between Mar- 
 lowe's play and Richard IT. appended to this note. 
 
 Dramatisations of English history had been known before this 
 first successful effort. Marlowe went to the usual sources (which 
 continued to be used by his successors), and drew on Holinshed, 
 Stow, and Fabyan, for historical facts. Since the course of the 
 narrative extends over more than twenty years, he condenses and 
 combines important events with considerable skill. 
 
 Students who desire to make the play a means of linguistic and 
 historical information, may be referred to an edition by Mr. O. 
 W. Tancock, published in the Clarendon Press series. 
 
 143 
 
144 NOTES. 
 
 Some Resemblances between " Edward II." and "Richard II." 
 
 In each play we have a weak king regardless of his people's 
 interests, reckless about the responsibilities of state, alienated 
 from his nobles through the fascinations of upstart favourites ; at 
 first securely arrogant, then forced to the defensive, finally de- 
 throned. This resemblance lay in the bare history, and Shake- 
 speare's selection of Richard II. 's reign as a dramatic theme need 
 not be called an imitation ; for this first play of his so-called 
 chronicle trilogy contains passages that indicate an intention to fol- 
 low it with the histories of Henry IV. and Henry V. In general 
 treatment, however, there was an opportunity for the earliest work 
 to exert an influence, while familiarity with it would be likely to 
 show itself by incidental touches in figures or phrases. Several 
 suggestive parallels, both in construction and in details, justify us 
 in concluding that Hero and Leander was not the only work of 
 Marlowe which Shakespeare admired. 
 
 We may pass by the indebtedness in the matter of versification, 
 only noting that in Richard II. the witchery of Marlowe's rhym- 
 ing couplet is quite as traceable as his " mighty line." For Shake- 
 speare at thirty had not acquired that firmness in discarding the 
 couplet in passages of more lyrical mood that Marlowe had shown 
 years before. Nor is it necessary to do more than suggest the 
 analogy in the main disposition of the "dramatis personae." 
 Though the enunciation of the characters of the two kings is dis- 
 similar, their faults of conduct are almost identical. Mortimer 
 and Bolingbroke are indeed unlike, yet they play correspondent 
 roles as leaders of the insurrection, and as the dethroned kings' 
 successors. Kent and York, again, have a function akin to that 
 of the classical chorus, in judiciously yet sympathetically following 
 the course of events, changing their sides as the merits of the 
 situation change. 
 
 In the earlier play the king's favourites are foreground figures ; 
 in the latter they are kept in the background : yet Gaveston, the 
 Spensers, and Baldock find parallels essential to Shakespeare's plot 
 in Bushy, Bagot, and Green. Then again, Lancaster, Pembroke, 
 the elder Mortimer, Warwick, and the other barons who revolt 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. T 45 
 
 from Edward, are matched by Northumberland, Percy, Ross, 
 Willoughby, and the other barons who combine against Richard. 
 Once more, a fictitious Isabella appears in Shakespeare (for the 
 historical queen of Richard was a child), though unlike in char- 
 acter as well as in their relations to their husbands, none the less 
 the two queens are parallels in the dramatic economy. 
 
 But more suggestive resemblances are to be traced in individual 
 passages. 
 
 When the Bishop of Coventry is arrested, Edward says, " Con- 
 vey this priest to the Tower," to which the bishop replies, " True, 
 true ! " (with, of course, a play on the slang meaning of convey— 
 taking something to which the taker had no right). 
 
 So Bolingbroke says of Richard, 
 
 " Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower, 
 
 to which Richard responds, 
 
 " Oh, good : convey! " 
 Edward's favourite Gaveston is compared by Mortimer to a 
 canker worm creeping up into the highest bough of the "lofty 
 cedar tree " of the English state : in Richard II. the king's 
 favourites are twice spoken of under the same figure, "the cater- 
 pillars of the commonwealth." 
 
 • It is Gaveston to whom is attributed that alienation of Edward 
 from his queen that forms so prominent a part in the action of the 
 earlier drama ; when Bolingbroke condemns Bushy and Green 
 to death, he states the following reason for his severity : 
 " You have in manner with your sinful hours 
 Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him ; 
 Broke the possession of a royal bed, 
 And stained the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks 
 With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs." 
 
 The words " in manner" must refer to the unwilling separation 
 between Richard and Isabel, which is one of the consequences of 
 his misconduct ; since there is no allusion in the play to any dis- 
 sension between the two ; indeed, their love is an attractive ele- 
 ment in Richard's story. But Shakespeare's introduction of a pas- 
 sage so entirely uncalled for— the thought is touched upon in 
 these lines only— indicates that he recollected Edward II. 
 
I4 6 NOTES. 
 
 There is a similarity, too, between the ends of the favourites in 
 both plays: on each side, they redeem their faults by plucky deaths. 
 
 Again Edward, after his fall, is addressed by the Bishop of 
 Winchester as " My lord," and replies : 
 
 " Call me not lord ; away, out of my sight ! " 
 
 Northumberland begins to speak to Richard, in the same situa- 
 tion, with " My lord," and is in like manner interrupted by ; 
 
 " No lord of thine, thou haught-insulting man, 
 Nor no man's lord : I have no name, no title." 
 
 Both kings, each in prison, waiting for death, express regret 
 for their mistaken courses. Edward, with that love for the prince 
 which forms a tender trait of his character, sends him a message 
 to " rule better than I ; " Richard moralizes on his sensitiveness to 
 discordant music, while he had not had 
 
 " An ear to hear my true time broke ; 
 
 I wasted time and now doth time waste me." 
 
 Both struggle in highly wrought emotion over the formal sur- 
 render of the crown after its significance of power has been lost ; 
 in a paroxysm, one destroys his papers, the other his mirror. 
 
 When Edward is placed in his first imprisonment, the merciful 
 Leicester tries to encourage him : 
 
 " Be patient, good my lord, cease to lament; 
 Imagine Killingworth Castle were your court, 
 And that you lay for pleasure here a space, 
 Not of compulsion or necessity." 
 
 Shakespeare's fine development of the suggestion, in Gaunt's 
 parting words to Bolingbroke, is one of the most familiar pass- 
 ages in his early drama : 
 
 " All places that the eye of heaven visits 
 Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. 
 Teach thy necessity to reason thus ; 
 There is no virtue like necessity. 
 Think not the king did banish thee, 
 But thou the king. Woe doth the heavier sit, 
 Where it perceives it is but faintly borne. 
 Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour, 
 And not the king exiled thee ; or suppose 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 1 47 
 
 Devouring pestilence hangs in our air, 
 
 And thou art flying to a fresher clime. 
 
 Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it 
 
 To lie that way thou goest, not whence thou comest : 
 
 Suppose the singing birds musicians, 
 
 The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence streiv'd, 
 
 The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more 
 
 Than a delightful measure or a dance : 
 
 For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite 
 
 The man that mocks at it and sets it light." 
 
 Edward in his flight seeks concealment in a monastery, and 
 thinks it would be a privilege in the silence and peace of that 
 retreat to pass the rest of his days : 
 
 " Father, this life contemplative is Heaven, 
 O, that I might this life in quiet lead ! " 
 
 So, when, confronted with the rebel army, Richard is plunging 
 into despair, he fancies he will become a religious recluse : 
 
 " I'll give my jewels for a set of beads. 
 My gorgeous palace for a hermitage." 
 
 Edward, whose royalty of nature appears best after exterior 
 royalty is lost, compares himself in a kingly simile with the lion ; 
 like the deer's, the wounds of private men, he argues, may find 
 commonplace remedies : 
 
 " But when the imperial lion's flesh is gored, 
 He rends and tears it with his wrathful paw, 
 And highly scorning that the lowly earth 
 Should drink his blood, mounts up to the air. 
 And so it fares with me." 
 
 In the same situation in Shakespeare's play the queen tries to 
 rouse the nerveless Richard to a more royal bearing : 
 " The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw. 
 And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage 
 To be o'erpower'd : and wilt thou, pupil-like, 
 Take thy correction mildly, kiss the rod, 
 And fawn on rage with base humility, 
 Which art a lion and a king of beasts ? " 
 
 Each of the kings, once more in his harsh imprisonment, sighs 
 at the change that has come over his former appearance. Nothing 
 in Marlowe is more exquisitely imagined than the passage where 
 
1 48 NOTES. 
 
 Edward, as he is describing to Lightborn the horrors of his 
 dungeon, sends a dying message to the woman whom in prosperity 
 he had slighted : 
 
 " Tell Isabel, the queen, I look'd not thus, 
 When for her sake I ran at tilt in France." 
 
 The same spirit moves Richard to mourn the ravages of afflic- 
 tion upon his personal beauty : 
 
 " Was this the face 
 That like the sun did make beholders wink ? " 
 
 There are perhaps other resemblances, as in the bitter rewards 
 of the murderers of the two kings. A reminiscence of the open- 
 ing scene in Dr. Faustus may also be noted. Faustus is per- 
 suading himself, through the contradictions of the Bible itself, 
 that divinity is worthless. " Stipendium peccati mors est," he 
 says. "That's hard. Si pecasse negamus fallimur et nulla est 
 in nobis Veritas. Why then belike we must sin, and so conse- 
 quently die." Richard, too, in the great soliloquy just before his 
 death, sets " the word itself against the word : " 
 
 " As thus, ' Come, little ones ; ' and then again, 
 It is as hard to come as for a camel 
 To thread the postern of a small needle's eye." 
 
 Some of Marlowe's admirers have declared his play superior to 
 Shakespeare. Such a judgment seems unaccountable. The most 
 that we can say is that the closing tragedy of Edward is more com- 
 pressed and intense than any single scene in the chronicle of 
 Richard, and that Shakespeare was slightly influenced, and no 
 doubt stimulated, in the simple modesty of his more slowly 
 developing genius, by this most conspicuous English play before 
 his own. 
 
 2 : 23. Observe the good reasons for introducing the following 
 dialogue. 
 
 2 : 24. The play opens naturally with Gaveston, as he is the 
 chief complicator of the plot. His character is first shown ; then 
 the relation between Edward and the barons is developed. The 
 interview between the king and his favourite, just after the barons' 
 threats, illustrates the former's reckless independence. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 149 
 
 Gaveston likes Edward instead of despising him for his feeble 
 dependence. This personal fondness (rather than love) partly 
 dignifies the role ; yet, even in its figures, his speech manifests self- 
 ish eagerness for favour. 
 
 "Tanti" is a contemptuous expression for "of no value." 
 Observe the elocutionary intention in the metre of the line. 
 
 3 : 56. The speech presents Gaveston's sense of Edward's 
 weakness, and his plans for controlling him. These masques 
 and pageantries, with their music, poetry, and rich costumes were 
 sixteenth century imitations from Italy, and as applied to the 
 early fourteenth century are bold anachronisms. Such indiffer- 
 ence to historic accuracy is common to the Elizabethan dramatists. 
 Ruskin, in Modern Painters, vol. iii. (iv. 7 : 19-20), thus ex- 
 pounds the broad principle involved. 
 
 " It is a constant law, as far as I can observe, that the greatest 
 men, whether poets or historians, live entirely in their own age, 
 and that the greatest fruits of their work are gathered out of their 
 own age. Dante paints Italy in the thirteenth century ; Chaucer, 
 England in the fourteenth ; Masaccio, Florence in the fifteenth ; 
 Tintoret, Venice in the sixteenth ; all of them utterly regardless 
 of anachronism and minor error of every kind, but getting always 
 vital truth out of the vital present. 
 
 ' ' If it be said that Shakespeare wrote perfect historical plays on 
 subjects belonging to the preceding centuries, I answer that they 
 are perfect plays just because there is no care about centuries in 
 them, but a life which all men recognize for the human life of all 
 time ; and this it is, not because Shakespeare sought to give uni- 
 versal truth, but because, painting honestly and completely from 
 the men about him, he painted that human nature which is, 
 indeed, constant enough — a rogue in the fifteenth century being 
 at heart what a rogue is in the nineteenth and was in the twelfth ; 
 and an honest or a knightly man being in like manner very simi- 
 lar to other such at any other time. And the work of these great 
 idealists is, therefore, always universal ; not because it is not por- 
 trait, but because it is complete portrait down to the heart, which 
 is the same in all ages ; and the work of the mean idealists is not uni- 
 versal, not because it is portrait, but because it is half portrait — 
 of the outside, the manners and the dress, not of the heart. Thus 
 
150 NOTES. 
 
 Tintoret and Shakespeare paint, both of them, simply Venetian and 
 English nature as they saw it in their time, down to the root ; and 
 it does for all time ; but as for any care to cast themselves into 
 the particular ways and tones of thought or custom, of past time 
 in their historical work, you will find it in neither of them, nor 
 in any other perfectly great man that I know of." 
 
 There is no reason for the view that the reference to " Italian 
 masks" is to cast discredit on Gaveston, on account of the Eng- 
 lish dislike of things Italian. 
 
 4 : 62. Actresses were not employed on the English stage before 
 the Restoration. The classical character of the presentations 
 mentioned in the context furnishes still further illustration of 
 the Renaissance spirit among the cultivated people of the day. 
 
 4 : 73. These two sentences are probably a prose addition to 
 the speech, added for dramatic purposes, by another hand. 
 
 6:128. Love. Dyce conjectured leave, and Lancaster in the 
 next line for Gaveston. 
 
 7 : 159. Kent (historically a child of six at the opening of the 
 action), whose preceding speech in opposition to the arrogance of 
 the barons showed loyalty to his brother, here begins his moderat- 
 ing role, by this disapproval of such partiality to the favourite. 
 
 7 : 165. Regiment = rule. By the king's aggressive patronage of 
 Gaveston, his part is made stronger, and the play gains accord- 
 ingly, compared with a treatment by which the king might have 
 been won by solicitations. 
 
 8 : 188. Channel = gutter. 
 
 9 : 200.= 1. e., They have no right to take me there. Convey 
 was used for steal from its sense of carrying secretly. 
 
 9 : 6. Timeless = untimely. 
 
 10 : 19. Removing the hat in respect. In the next line, and at 
 the beginning of Warwick's speech, the composition in reference 
 to stage-action is interesting. 
 
 10 : 26. Stomach = feel anger. 
 
 11 : 47. Isabella's first appearance is connected with Mortimer, 
 no doubt designedly. Here, and at the close of the scene, she 
 addresses him with affection. She professes to be withdrawing 
 from the court to live in the forest, rather than longer to witness 
 the king's estrangement from her. Some time has intervened 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 15 1 
 
 since Scene I. Her tones are those of a loving woman, willing 
 to continue suffering, if she can thus save Edward from civil war. 
 
 12 : 72. Frustrate : to be pronounced in three syllables. 
 
 13 : 5. This scene of five lines, both awkward and unnecessary, 
 is an example of the play's occasionally clumsy construction. 
 
 14 : 13. Hardly to be thought a reminiscence of Ovid (as Dyce), 
 but only one of the Latin pedantries of the time ; in place of 
 " How ill they match." The Senecan tragedy is suggested by 
 the short speeches and formal phrasing of this dialogue, which 
 shows considerable dramatic animation. 
 
 15 : 30. Gaveston was the son of a Gascon knight, and had 
 been the king's close companion from boyhood. 
 
 16:49. Fleet = float. Compare this speech with Edward's 
 petulant tone just before. 
 
 18:106. The generally whispered news of the banishment, 
 immediately upon the act, is an attempt at dramatic naturalness 
 at the cost of a reasonable time treatment. 
 
 19 : 127. The custom of wearing miniatures is illustrated by 
 Hamlet's reference to Claudius' " pictures in little." 
 
 19 : 136. So the old editions. Dyce reads love for lord. Others 
 put a comma after lord, still referring the tear to Gaveston. But 
 it is the king who is most affected ; the following line expresses 
 the favourite's pain, rising afresh at his lord's sorrow. Cf. Antony 
 in Julius Ccesar (III. i. 282). 
 
 " Passion, I see, is catching : for mine eyes, 
 Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine, 
 Begin to water." 
 
 Just below, pass = care. 
 
 20 : 147. The addresses to Isabel of both Edward and Gaves- 
 ton treat her later complication with Mortimer as a scandal 
 already understood, even though Gaveston immediately retracts the 
 charge. It is possible that Marlowe fancied the queen's weak- 
 nature still loyal (as her lines on the following page assert, after 
 Edward and Gaveston withdraw), while she has already been im- 
 prudent by too open exhibitions of an inclination toward Morti- 
 mer that is as yet innocent. The question will come up again 
 presently. 
 
15 2 NOTES. 
 
 21 : 167. This harsh irony, with the rough stage action im- 
 plied, is designed to enhance our pity for the queen, and to aggra- 
 vate our sense of the wrong course of Edward. It will be 
 observed that the dramatic policy is to excite sympathy for the 
 queen, and aversion toward the king and his favourites, through 
 the earlier development of the action, and then reverse the effect, 
 after the crisis has re-arranged the situation. 
 
 21 : 186. With the heavy effort and the weak literary imitations 
 of the soliloquy, we find specific touches, as of " When I left 
 sweet France," the success in the reiterations of " Gaveston," 
 and the excellent tone of the last line. 
 
 23:223. Torpedo, a kind of eel, that gives a numbing shock. 
 The evolution of the metaphor is euphuistic. 
 
 23 : 229. The blurred treatment of the relations between these 
 two characters is continued by having this interview conducted in 
 private, instead of openly. 
 
 24 : 248. Respect = consideration. 
 
 25 : 279. These four arguments of Mortimer's are obviously 
 inconsistent and insincere, in direct opposition to his uncle's advice 
 not to ' ' play the sophister. " His character is unscrupulously selfish, 
 and his course throughout is that of an insurgent, aiming only at 
 personal power. Future advantages to come from an alliance with 
 "the sister of the King of France," induce him to consent to a 
 temporary recall of Gaveston, although his speech at the end of 
 the scene shows that he has no thought of reconciliation. 
 
 27:311. Another of Marlowe's striking single lines redeemed 
 from a hard Elizabethan conceit by his force, yet not made better 
 by what follows. 
 
 27 : 329. This pretty speech is unusually dramatic in its sugges- 
 tion of the stage action. 
 
 29 : 369. The instantaneous execution of the order is a crude- 
 ness similar to that under note 18. 
 
 29 : 378. Cousin = niece, as frequently. 
 
 30 : 400. This conciliatory speech, with its five classical parallels, 
 that come so inappropriately from the old baron with whose 
 " nature war doth best agree," serves to throw more stress on the 
 younger Mortimer's renewed resolution to crush Gaveston. 
 
 30 : 408. Cullions = base fellows. Just before, jets =r struts. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 153 
 
 31:417. Such a speech as this, with all its suggestiveness of 
 the evils of the royal favouritism, and with its animated description, 
 marks Marlowe's development from the style in Tamburlaine. 
 
 31 : 422. Although, as this conclusion shows, the lull in the hos- 
 tilities is only of short duration, its introduction has an artistic 
 effect. Regarding the First Act as a whole, we must credit 
 Marlowe with a clear exposition of the central thought of the play, 
 viz., Edward and his favourites vs. a strong combination of power- 
 ful nobles. Isabel and Kent, at present on the king's side, are 
 set in motion toward a transfer of regard. The king's character 
 is delineated as selfish (except to his favourites), disregardful of 
 the realm, peevish, passionate, obstinate, and childishly mer- 
 curial. 
 
 The construction of Scene iv. is poor. Gaveston's exile is 
 demanded, resisted, obtained ; he leaves England ; Isabel en- 
 treats, and finally secures, his recall ; he is summoned ; and, after 
 a general pacification of king and barons, a new resistance is 
 threatened — all in the single scene. 
 
 31:11. The Spensers and Baldock were not prominent as 
 Edward's favourites until some ten years after the death of Gaves- 
 ton. The deviation from historical fact is justifiable dramatically, 
 since their introduction before he passes off the stage establishes 
 continuity in the favouritism, and thus tends toward the unity that 
 at best can only be partially secured in such a chronicle play. It 
 also acquaints us with the successors of Gaveston before they are 
 required for the action — an artistic device frequently illustrated in 
 Shakespeare. Marlowe degrades these characters' social station (in 
 reality the Spensers stood high) for stronger effect, just as with 
 the base-born upstart in Gaveston. The linking of this new 
 scene with the previous act, through the fiction of these two for- 
 tune hunters as dependents on the father of Gaveston's betrothed, 
 and the necessity of their securing another patron owing to the 
 Earl of Gloucester's death, also manifest some tact in construction. 
 
 32 : 36. Napkin = handkerchief. 
 
 32 : 38. To make a leg was an old phrase for " to bow." 
 
 32 : 43. This little study of the obsequious scholar-lackey is, 
 of course, introduced to characterize Baldock as a hypocrite, who 
 has been adapting himself to the severe old earl. The lines 
 
154 NOTES. 
 
 accomplish their end very well, but in the following speech the 
 speaker discredits himself too baldly. 
 
 33 '55- This jesting illustrates Marlowe's deficiency in humor. 
 Baldock probably means to say that he is a lively fellow, instead 
 of being a stiff scholar, who must alway talk with pedantic 
 accuracy {proterea quod = because.) Spenser's qicandoquidem (= 
 since) may have been the beginning of some student Latin phrase 
 of compliance with an invitation or opinion ; that is, " You fall in 
 with your company's suggestions in a free, genial way." The 
 " gift to form a verb," seems to mean that he can make himself 
 a good companion by his clever tricks of new phrases, which the 
 fine Elizabethan society affected. 
 
 33 : 58. It is characteristic of Marlowe that he makes scarcely 
 anything out of this opportunity for a romantic under-plot. 
 
 34 : 3. Passionate = sorrowful. 
 
 35 : 20. Such devices were familiar at the old triumphs or tour- 
 naments. The motto ( = at length, justly), like Lancaster's 
 ( = death on all sides) announces the renewal of the barons' hos- 
 tility to Gaveston, before he returns. The euphuistic illustration 
 from " unnatural natural history " is of the 'same order as Morti- 
 mer's " torpedo " in I, 4. 
 
 36:58. The same expression in reference to the same event, 
 that was used by Gaveston's betrothed, in the preceding scene. 
 
 40 : 138. This incident is another example of the dramatist's 
 invention of a dramatic effect. By the king's recklessness regard- 
 ing the ills of his lords, and his indifference to draining the 
 resources of the people, sympathy is still further withdrawn from 
 the side of the plot that forms the resistance-element during the 
 earlier action, and is transferred to the side that forms the rising 
 and aggressive movement. 
 
 40 : 144. Observe the trisyllabic " throughout." 
 
 41 : 149. Another cue to the player's action. Observe the 
 unusual compression and vigour of the entire passage — one of Mar- 
 lowe's best exhibitions of dramatic power, as the two barons 
 press before the king with defiant gestures, and volley their 
 charges of the popular distress, national perils, and proofs of his 
 unkingly character, and without allowing him to respond even by 
 an exclamation. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 155 
 
 41 : 160. Kerns = inferior foot-soldiers. 
 
 41 : 167. Sort = a small company, a " lot." 
 
 42:183. Tancock quotes the hint for these picturesque lines, 
 from Holinshed : " King Edward, with a mighty army bravely 
 furnished, and gorgeously appareled, more seemly for a triumph 
 than meet to encounter with the cruel enemy in the field, entered 
 Scotland." 
 
 42 : 191. The song is adapted from Fabyan. Lemans = lovers. 
 Rombelow is a refrain word in old songs. The battle referred to 
 was fought two years after Gaveston's death. Wigmore in the 
 following line was Mortimer's property. 
 
 43:207. In this crisis, Kent comes out distinctly on the 
 barons' side, the upbuilding of their cause in the sympathy of the 
 audience being furthered through his previously conservative 
 course. Kent's moderation is well conceived, but there is no 
 skilful shading in the transition, and Edward's violent and fool- 
 ish temper is couched almost childishly. 
 
 43 : 220. Observe the renewed ambiguity respecting the queen. 
 
 44 : 227. This Senecan single-line dialogue once more illus- 
 trates Marlowe's general tendency to begin his speeches at the 
 opening of a verse, instead of increasing the naturalness and 
 variety of tone by breaking the line with the close and opening of 
 two speeches, as the later Elizabethan drama learned to do. 
 
 45 : 247. Thus the two Favourite-threads are knit, and Edward 
 aggravates his previous behaviour by the luxurious delay with which 
 he trifles with his political situation. The scene is crowded 
 again : Gaveston returns, Edward and the barons quarrel, Kent 
 is dismissed, and it is reported that the earls are already up in 
 arms. 
 
 46 : 8. Cast — conjecture. 
 
 46 : 16. There was no reason for his returning secretly, and no 
 suggestion in the preceding scene that he did so. 
 
 46 : 22. The old, but inaccurate, assumption that the name 
 Mortimer was derived from crusading service in the region of the 
 Dead Sea. 
 
 49 : 59. These lines, and the speeches of Isabel on the two 
 pages preceding, seem intended as transitional. Just before Lan- 
 caster and the others enter, her soliloquy indicates that she is 
 
I5 6 NOTES. 
 
 absorbed in love for her husband. But when she meets Mortimer, 
 she complains to him that she is insulted and cast off, and that 
 discredit is thrown on her relations with him, by the king. As 
 Mortimer leaves her, he seems to refer to some earlier entreaty for 
 her love, although his line is ambiguous. When she is alone 
 again, she sums up the situation as hopeless, yet she resolves to 
 importune the king once more before taking such a step as leav- 
 ing England. 
 
 Considerations that may better be noted later, render her real 
 character during these opening scenes uncertain. So far, how- 
 ever, as the first half of the play goes, we might state the case 
 thus : Mortimer's earlier and present help and gentleness appeal 
 to her. Her only desire is for some one to whom her affection 
 may cling. She here asserts to the others once more, and to her- 
 self, that Gaveston is the only cause of her alienation, just as she 
 confesses a yearning toward Mortimer. As soon as this point of 
 inclination is reached, Marlowe is characterizing her according to 
 his own ideas of sentiment, by representing her as whirling sud- 
 denly : 
 
 " Where both deliberate, the love is slight." 
 
 Such abruptness is not necessarily untrue to nature. Assume that 
 this woman for years had endured neglect and insult, while 
 remaining loving and patient. Like the action of cumulative 
 drugs, there comes a last injury that sums up the latent forces of 
 those that have preceded. She had depended on Mortimer, with 
 womanly trust, as an upholder of the cause by which she hoped to 
 secure a reconciliation with the king. Gradually, this trust led 
 to dependence, and she came into a weak woman's subjection to 
 the far-sighted and ambitious intriguer. Whether such a view is 
 correct, can be considered later. 
 
 51 : 29. It will be noticed that the hour for Gaveston's fall is 
 immediately after he has separated the king from nobles, Kent, 
 and Isabella. It is here that the redeeming traits in his character 
 are introduced, a steady nerve, under his easy lightness of tone, 
 and his love and constancy toward the king. For the purpose 
 of dignifying the approaching catastrophe, his relations with 
 Edward are thus assumed as genuinely devoted and a reaction of 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 157 
 
 compassion toward the fallen favourite is excited by the brutal lan- 
 guage of the barons, and the treachery by which Pembroke's con- 
 sideration is frustrated. Gaveston is certainly one of the poet's 
 cleverest and best sustained characters. 
 
 55:5. Centre apparently is used, as often, for the middle of 
 the earth, and therefore the lowest spot for falling. So 
 Wiclif (Murray, s. v.), " As the centre is the lowest of all things." 
 It is perhaps in keeping with the spirited tone of the speech to 
 accept the punctuation that puts an interrogation after " life," 
 and an exclamation after "bliss," making "centre of all my 
 bliss ! " his thought's apostrophe to the king. This is effective, 
 and is borne out by Edward's " centre of all misfortune," in 
 iv. 6, yet it seems unlike Marlowe. 
 
 55 : 14. Shadow = ghost. The response of Warwick that 
 follows shows again that Marlowe could write incisively ; the irony 
 of these two lines is made sterner by their reserve. 
 
 58:56. Spare is elongated in pronunciation, as " care " else- 
 where. 
 
 59 : 78. As a matter of fact, the prince was not born until some 
 five months after Gaveston's death. Dramatically, he is intro- 
 duced here to render his approaching part in the action more 
 natural. It is worth while to compare this subsequent study of a 
 child with Shakespeare's boys. 
 
 63:177. This scene aims to show the fruitlessness of the 
 barons' moderation, in laying no check upon Edward himself. 
 Immediately upon news of Gaveston's death, he allies himself 
 with new favourites, who are assumed as the earlier characters' 
 entire counterparts, even to low birth, and to these he transfers 
 Gaveston's honours. He puts himself into their control, and at 
 their ill advice manifests disregard of his kingdom and renewed 
 arrogance, and takes a passionate vow of vengeance for Gaveston. 
 Thus the personally loyal movement for reform has borne no 
 happy result, and the feeling of sympathy for the forthcoming 
 rebellion grows stronger. 
 
 64: 17. Trains = stratagems. 
 
 65:35- This concluding dialogue is an example of the old 
 defiances before stage battles, an example of which Shakespeare 
 retained in Julius Casar, Act V, 
 
158 NOTES. 
 
 67 : 86. Regiment = authority. Isabella has gone to France, 
 but not on the king's errand. The speech of Levune that follows 
 is equivalent to Gaveston's earlier innuendoes, and is to be sim- 
 ilarly interpreted, either as representing the queen as uniformly 
 insincere, or else as clumsy dramatic treatment, in assuming as 
 a fact what is to come true only by and by. 
 
 The largely similar roles of Gaveston and the younger Spenser 
 are separated as the latter becomes more of a political force. 
 
 68 : 3. i. e. y Let natural affection yield to patriotism. Observe 
 Kent's belief in Isabella's devotion and grief, even here, as well as 
 the poetic opening and close of the speech. 
 
 69 : 7. Here, when the queen has thrown off her fidelity, and 
 the plot is ready to open on Edward, as a victim, Marlowe intro- 
 duces what we may count the first stroke in his reverse action. 
 The sentimental fallacy of the king's real openness to kind man- 
 agement, which is strongly developed later, is touched in this 
 expression of his young son's instinct toward loyalty and trust. 
 
 70: 31. I have substituted a new punctuation for the editor's 
 obscure 
 
 " Ah, sweet Sir John ! even to the utmost verge 
 Of Europe, or the shores of Tanais, 
 Will we with thee to Hainault — so we will." 
 
 The passage refers to the invitation given just above by this 
 uncle of the young Edward's future wife. The thought is, with 
 such a friend we would go to the Don, or to the furthest boun- 
 dary of the Continent, much more, to Hainault. 
 
 70:45. This, spoken immediately upon Mortimer's arrival, 
 indicates an understanding between them before the queen left 
 England. The conclusion of the line appears to mean that she 
 wishes that treason to the king were the worst feature of their 
 situation. 
 
 71 : 57- Kent looks forward only to a loyal final arrangement. 
 In the preceding line, appointed means " in warlike equipment." 
 The speech that follows = Kent's aspiration for England's wel- 
 fare must be secured by the sword. 
 
 71 : 67. i. e., To challenge the king to try his strength with us ; 
 — the game called prison-base, familiar in Elizabethan times. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 159 
 
 74 :45. This line may have been in Shakespeare's ear when he 
 made Juliet say : 
 
 " Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, 
 Towards Phoebus' lodging." 
 
 With the following line, cf. the earliest passages in Tambur- 
 Iaine{¥l. I., v. 2). 
 
 " Let ugly darkness, with her rusty coach. 
 
 Engirt with tempests, wrapt in pitchy clouds," etc. 
 
 There is a shade of dramatic irony in this eagerness for what 
 is to prove his ruin. The point suggested in note 2, above, is 
 touched upon again, in the virtuous and paternal reference to the 
 prince that follows. 
 
 74 : 1. The scene represents the address of the insurgents, on 
 landing. Only the five leaders, however, are brought upon the 
 stage. The queen assumes the prominent position in antagonis- 
 ing Edward. 
 
 76 : 27. The judicious character of Kent again turns as the 
 situation changes. He had wished only to attack the Spensers and 
 redeem the king ; but as he sees the treason and amorous con- 
 federacy of Mortimer and Isabella, he relents toward his brother, 
 and with him our sympathy is again shifted. The " subtle queen " 
 is now made known to him as hypocritical. By the pity and 
 regret of Kent, the signs of villainy in Mortimer, and of corrup- 
 tion and insincerity in the queen, the elder Spenser's dying rebuke 
 at the close of the scene (with its standard of loyalty that the play 
 assumes as unquestionable), as well as the accumulating misfortunes 
 of the weak king (after all the most efficient appeal to the tenderer 
 judgment), Marlowe is preparing to render the tragical end pathetic 
 rather than judicial. Observe the increased interest and the 
 altered personal tone in the king's speeches hereafter. 
 
 77 • 54- I follow Dyce in giving this line to Mortimer instead 
 of Kent. Unless we make "Edward" a vocative, the line is 
 inconsistent with Edmund's position, 
 
 80 : 16. The elocutionary tone of the line is too good to 
 justify striking out the second " come " in the interest of uniform 
 accent. The address is suggested by the opening of Act II. 
 This transition from the reckless, pleasure-loving, youthful king, 
 
160 NOTES. 
 
 to the man bent by seriousness and the load of years, is of course 
 for the purpose of associating feelings of reverence and pity with his 
 fall (cf. parallels in Shakespeare.) Marlowe's diction and poetical 
 freedom are rising here. The king's last speech before the 
 captors enter is especially happy in its suggestion of his old nature, 
 overpowered by physical exhaustion. Observe, also, the almost 
 lyrical tone of the three lines at its close. 
 
 81:54. "Seneca, Thyestes, 613." — Dyce. 
 
 82:70. Yearns. Dyce reads " earns." 
 
 82: 81. i. e., Kenilworth. 
 
 82 : 90. This is the old reading, except for the dash ; Dyce 
 omits the last two words. The meaning may be — the monks and 
 his companions are his only friends, and the latter must die. With 
 a dash at the end of the line, however, we may understand the 
 reiterations as refering to Baldock and Spenser, alone, and as due 
 to his emotion at the idea of losing them. The recurrence of 
 " these," in Rice's response, is possibly a satirical echo of the 
 repetitions. 
 
 83 : 94. The same sentiment as in the opening soliloquy of 
 Faustus, " che sera, sera." 
 
 83 : 98. A fine conclusion to the parting. As was observed of 
 the affection between the king and Gaveston, such regard digni- 
 fies the characters above a relation of dupe and parasite ; as true 
 friends, in their fall they command interest and compassion. 
 
 83: in. Note the contrast between Spenser's conventional and 
 frigid exclamation and this speech of Baldock's. When ambition 
 is found vain, the former student returns to himself. The manner 
 accords with the mood, earnest and noble, until the fanciful and 
 weak turn of the last line. The concluding couplet (observe how 
 few Marlowe admits) might be explained, as are many of Shake- 
 speare's, by the aphoristic thought, but is more probably due to the 
 rhyming tradition, according to which the ear felt a firmer conclu- 
 sion to a final passage. This couplet would tend to confirm one's 
 impression that the prose appendix is not Marlowe's. He scarcely 
 ever introduces prose. The dying speech of Zabina in Tambur- 
 laine — a speech far from mere insane ranting — on grounds of 
 style one feels sure is not his, and the letter in the present Act of 
 this play is hardly in point, since it is extraneous to the dialogue. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 161 
 
 84 : 10. The herb is dittany. For a third time the poet plays 
 with euphuistic natural history illustrations. 
 
 Now that his crown is being torn away, Edward first appears 
 really to be wearing it. In these later scenes, the uninteresting char- 
 acter of the earlier play appears as at last a king. The evident 
 impression made on Shakespeare, by the opening lines of the Act, 
 has been pointed out under note 45. Save for a few passages, 
 the drama has moved heavily : for the poet has been studying to 
 be a playwright, and to substitute a well-ordered whole for the 
 irregular brilliancies of his previous work. As for poetic feeling 
 and expression, he has shown himself under constraint. But now, 
 as was observed in the preceding scene, the situation has been 
 developed, and the poet comes to the front again, in imaginative 
 speech and in the emotional interpretation of a character. Mar- 
 lowe's early love of imagery and power appears again, his verse 
 becomes freer and finer, and, while crudities constantly are crop- 
 ping out, we find excellent ideas, noble expression for individual 
 lines, and a general sensation of imaginative control. 
 
 84 : 23. Notice how this thought runs through the conclusion 
 of the play. 
 
 86 : 59. This great line, and the passage that ensues, express 
 in a matured form Marlowe's old sense of the preciousness of 
 power, as in Tamburlaine. Such clinging to the semblance as in 
 itself a reality, is, on its more trivial side, perfectly in keeping 
 with Edward's earlier nature, while by its stronger and pathetic 
 aspects we are won still further to consideration and pity for the 
 failing fortunes of a monarch. 
 
 86 : 68. The beginning of the wonderful final soliloquy of his 
 own Dr. Faustus is in the poet's mind : 
 
 " Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven, 
 That time may cease, and midnight never come ; 
 Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again, and make 
 Perpetual day ; or let this hour be but 
 A year, a month, a week, a natural day, 
 That Faustus may repent, and save his soul ! " 
 
 86 : 77. Pass not = do not regard. In the preceding line, 
 fondly = foolishly. 
 
 87:83. Lamb, after quoting this passage in his Specimens 
 
1 62 NOTES. 
 
 of English Dramatic Poets, remarks: "the reluctant pangs of 
 abdicating royalty in Edward furnished hints which Shakespeare 
 scarce improved in his Richard //." (The parallel scene in the 
 latter play should be closely compared with this, and various 
 inferences noted.) 
 
 88:105. The present pathos, and oblivion of the past rela- 
 tions of king and queen, in this hard but brilliant image, are effec- 
 tive, yet not in a Shakespearian way. Just above, observe 
 Edward's eager perception of the bystander's emotion. 
 
 88 : 123. Sophistication, indeed, but well contrived for the 
 effect that the poet desires. The struggle in reference to surren- 
 dering the symbol of kingship is determined at the end by Leices- 
 ter's appeal to the father. " If they go, the prince shall lose 
 his right." This unselfish ambition for the boy's royal future, the 
 repeated expressions of anxiety for the " lamb, encompassed by 
 wolves," these crowding emotions of pride, despair, and dignified 
 regret for the errors of his reign, his appeal to the tenderness of 
 the false queen, the occasional flash of arbitrary and wilful pas- 
 sion, render the scene genuinely powerful. There is also skill in 
 softening our feeling for the captive, through Leicester his jailer, 
 and through aggravating his sufferings by the plan to transfer him 
 to a sterner keeper. Two of the king's sententious exclamations, 
 near the end of scene i., suggest the poet's own temper. 
 
 90 : 20. Mortimer's suggestion to Isabella, that even in cap- 
 tivity the king is dangerous, draws from her an assent to any- 
 thing on which he may resolve, barring the safety of the prince. 
 If we regard the earlier delineation of the queen's nature as ac- 
 cording to the dramatic convention of the soliloquy we are bound 
 to regard it, viz., as affectionate, clinging to the king's love, and 
 tender even to weakness, this concluding treatment seems inde- 
 fensible. No doubt, Marlowe might have protrayed such a 
 development, but he certainly has not done so. There has been 
 no adequate transition from the introductory Isabel to this heart- 
 less wife, who not only assents to her paramour's suggestions but 
 even seems to lead in cruelty. All through the earlier scenes hints 
 were dropped of her duplicity and hypocritical cunning, from 
 which we have to acquit her, on the evidence of those scenes as a 
 whole. Yet here the former charges are substantiated : she is in the 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 163 
 
 relations with Mortimer of which she was suspected, and her in- 
 sincerity and deceit are unquestionable. Indeed, as for this latter 
 point, Marlowe has sacrificed artistic effect by the heavy lines with 
 which he has drawn her hypocrisy in the addresses to the mes- 
 senger and to Matrevis, and in her advice to Mortimer respecting 
 Kent. Whereas Mortimer, besides, plans to wear the king out, and 
 thus destroy him, while escaping the open danger of murder; she, 
 just before Gurney enters, suggests immediate violence, if only 
 she may avoid direct personal agency in it. In Marlowe's plan of 
 building up sympathy against the king until the tragedy was pre- 
 pared for, he wished to enlist the audience on the queen's side at 
 first, as a loving and injured wife, then after the reverse action 
 was under way, he aimed to intensify pity for the victim by every 
 device ; and what would create a stronger reaction in his favour than 
 the shamelessness of such a woman as this later Isabel ? So, with 
 this ultimate treatment in mind, and as if to give a clue to what is 
 coming, he tainted her early innocence by slanderous blemishes, 
 which her transformed nature afterward proceeded to verify. It 
 was reasonable that she should turn to Mortimer (as is explained 
 in note 105), but her moral reconstruction is unaccounted for. 
 Nor is her love for Mortimer treated with any interest ; it is an 
 assertion, not a delineation. Her one quality that pleases is fond- 
 ness for her son, yet her last address to him is a falsehood. Had 
 Marlowe omitted the earlier innuendoes, and her compromising 
 connection with Mortimer, in Act I.; and. after she forsakes the 
 king, could he have depicted her as a weak and gentle prey to 
 Mortimer's adroitness, standing against her husband in virtue of a 
 misguided sense of duty to the prince (as one of her last speeches 
 feigningly asserts), and exhibiting some womanly compassion and 
 yearning for what once had been her life's centre, now sunken and 
 dying, then the conclusion would have satisfied the exigencies of 
 the historical plot, while remaining consistent with the earlier 
 character. As the play stands, we are compelled to conclude that, 
 without natural evolution, a weak woman has passed from the 
 state of a loving to that of a " fiend-like queen." Yet, notwith- 
 standing those early soliloquies, the author perhaps thought of her 
 from the beginning as not only feebly sentimental, of a superficial 
 moral nature, but also as a dissembler. 
 
164 NOTES. 
 
 95 : 116. Aged Edward, for dramatic and emotional effect. 
 He died at the age of forty-three. It is not necessary to explain 
 this by saying that the Chronicles call him " the old king," by 
 contrast with his son. 
 
 96 : 14. A line of four feet. Dyce inserts only at the beginning. 
 
 97 : 36. Tancock quotes the dramatist's authority for the fact 
 in Stow's Chronicle. The question would remain, whether such 
 realism is desirable for the stage. The incident may be contrasted 
 with the king's own earlier treatment of the bishop in I. 1. 
 (note 53). 
 
 98 : 67. The attempted rescue serves to introduce the execution 
 of Kent, as a sacrifice to Edward's cause, as well as to provide 
 this animated little episode. It seems unfair to state Kent's char- 
 acter as " feeble and yet impulsive." The development is faint, 
 but the conception is excellently contrived to represent the reason- 
 able judgment that never alters, although it changes its position 
 as the conditions vary. For Kent's course is consistent through- 
 out ; his error was in judging Mortimer and Isabella as sincere 
 reformers. If the outline of his role had been filled in boldly, he 
 would have stood out as a striking exponent of the poet's view of 
 his plot — where an erring king becomes a martyr when his divine 
 right is assailed. The earl's atonement for his mistake by thus 
 sacrificing his life, although tamely handled, has dramatic merit. 
 
 99 : 12. The poet follows an old authority. 
 
 99:29. Lightborn is a great advance on Marlowe's earlier 
 villain in The Jew of Malta, who was also an adept in poison- 
 ing. From Italian influences, the Elizabethan drama has many 
 an instance of these arts, as in Webster, Tourneur, or Beaumont 
 and Fletcher. Browning's The Laboratory gives the spirit of 
 the practice, with the omission of those visible horrors from which 
 the older poets did not flinch. 
 
 IOI : 59. Imbecility = feeble health. The satirical humour of 
 Mortimer's account of his adroit methods, with the fling at six- 
 teenth century Puritans, suggests his easy sense of security. 
 
 IOI 165. Dyce substitutes rule for rules, which is the reading 
 of the edition of 1598. 
 
 IOI : 66. Our sympathy for Edward increases, as we see that 
 the revolution has left the radical situation unchanged. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 165 
 
 IOI : 68. Ovid, Met. vi. 195, Dyce. Marlowe uses his dramatic 
 irony heavily. 
 
 105:25. Lock is Bullen's emendation for " lake." For con- 
 venience, Edward is represented as on a level with the front of 
 the stage, Lightborn probably drawing a curtain (so Dyce sug- 
 gests), as if unlocking and opening the door to the " vault." The 
 king's use of " there " is to be noticed, in his reference to the 
 dungeon, presently, and the mention of his dripping robes, as if 
 he had climbed up and entered the apartment where the scene 
 opens. Yet cf. Gurney's last line. 
 
 105 141. Observe the unnerved terror in these hurried, broken 
 questions, and the king's instinctive sense of his peril, as he sees 
 the villain, whose attempts to be soothing and reassuring increase 
 his ugly look. In Lightborn's "To murder you," mark the 
 metrical protraction of " murder," and its effect. 
 
 106:51. Through his pathetic eagerness for sympathy, 
 Edward pours out his story even to the assassin in whose brows 
 he already sees his tragedy written. Nothing in this recital of his 
 wrongs equals the parenthetical " being a king." The very word 
 for royalty had majesty to Marlowe, as his lines in Tamburlaine 
 show. 
 
 106 : 69. A wonderful touch of contrast between this present 
 and that past of youth and chivalry and love, worthy to remind us 
 of Francesca's cry {Inferno, v.), 
 
 " That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things." 
 
 The fallacy in " For her sake " moves us as for a betrayed lover ; 
 we no longer remember the beginning of the play. 
 
 106 : 71. Dyce suggests that the bed was thrust upon the stage 
 from the wing, after Gurney and Matrevis withdrew. There 
 could be no more pathetic means of depicting the sufferings and 
 exhaustion that the king has undergone, than this enticement to 
 sleep, and the struggle between nature and the terror of murder, 
 the former prevailing. Compare, for artistic effect, with the 
 bald opening of the scene. 
 
 107: 82. The first " thought " has been suspected as corrupt, 
 but without reason. The passage is admirable : the touch of 
 impulsive courtesy, quite in keeping with Edward's naturally easy 
 
1 66 NOTES. 
 
 and generous disposition, that would heal with the gift of his last 
 jewel the injury done by his suspicion ; and confused with this, 
 the terrified undertone, that would propitiate this villain. 
 
 107 : 90. So the first edition. Later, " alive " was omitted. 
 Dyce, and others, read " still remain alive," for the verse ; but, as 
 Tancock remarks, the rhythm of the line is far more striking with 
 a pause after the first and second words. This return to his pas- 
 sion for the crown is finely imagined. 
 
 108:106. Lamb's sentence has been often quoted: "The 
 death-scene of Marlowe's king moves pity and terror beyond any 
 scene, ancient or modern, with which I am acquainted." That 
 was perhaps written just after Lamb laid down the play : it appears 
 extravagant. Yet we may well count this an extraordinary pas- 
 sage, an incontestable proof (as it is the only fully conclusive 
 evidence) that Marlowe possessed higher dramatic faculty, as well 
 as poetic. 
 
 In contrast with the sensational horrors of The Jew, we 
 should note the omission of atrocious details, such as " the red- 
 hot spit " previously mentioned. 
 
 109 : 5. Secret : to be pronounced with three syllables. 
 
 112: 64. These strong last lines of Mortimer once more save 
 a necessary death from degradation. He is redeemed from an 
 abject end by his dignity and calmness in fronting the future, as 
 well as by pride in success, even though at an end, and his con- 
 sideration for Isabella's sorrow. The first lines are of course a 
 reminder of his assertion (in V. 2.), that he " makes Fortune's 
 wheel turn as he please," and also of his application to himself of 
 Ovid's line in V. 4. and his vaunt, just before his arrest, that he 
 stands "as Jove's high tree," etc., examples of dramatic irony 
 handled not too skilfully. 
 
 113:100. Aside from the suitable infliction of justice on 
 Mortimer, observe the artistic effect of closing the confusions of 
 the drama with a firm power upon the throne ; a method, indeed, 
 familiar to Elizabethan, as well as to classical playwrights. 
 
TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 167 
 
 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 
 
 117. This drama is in two parts, of five Acts each, and recounts 
 the adventures of the famous conqueror. Its long lists of 
 "dramatis personse " are little more than names, for we observe 
 few attempts, even, at individual characterization. The play has 
 no plot, properly speaking, but consists of a string of incidents 
 based upon the account given in Fortescue's Forest, supplemented 
 by the work of Perondinas (cf. The Academy, 24, 265). It 
 was first printed in 1590, and is the earliest drama in blank verse 
 known to have been produced on the public stage. Except in 
 passages, Tamburlaine possesses no permanent interest ; the events 
 are extravagantly conceived, and the idealisation of might and 
 ambition in the protagonist (who is the only significant character), 
 is associated with few traits of pleasing truth to nature. Con- 
 sidered merely as poetry, there is a vast amount of ranting and 
 bombast. Yet even the hyperboles and distractions are touched 
 with genius, and more than one passage shows a passionate 
 strength that had never previously appeared in English verse. 
 Tamburlaine contains few ideas, but for the thrill that they 
 communicate by their great utterance, and their mastering sensa- 
 tions, its best fragments may claim high rank in English verse. Of 
 the selections that follow, two or three are introduced as illustra- 
 tions of Marlowe's early manner, apart from their poetical quality. 
 
 117:15. Resolved = dissolved. Observe the poetical associa- 
 tions of place throughout the extract, and the specific adjective 
 with " Volga." 
 
 118 138. Portly = stately. 
 
 118 145. Merchants = trading ships. Vail = lower their flags, 
 in surrender. 
 
 119:50. Weed = garment. The reference is to an obscure 
 myth that represented Jupiter as wooing Mnemosyne under the 
 disguise of a shepherd. Ovid gives only two words to the story 
 in Met. vi. 114. Marlowe apparently reverts to it later, and evi- 
 dently liked it : perhaps through its associating "the chiefest of 
 the gods" with the birth of the Muses. This is one of Marlowe's 
 single line poems, and shows, as do his best passages frequently, 
 the impression made upon him by the classics. Many of his fifty 
 
1 68 NOTES. 
 
 classical reminiscences in Part I. might well have been spared. 
 But throughout his work it is true of Marlowe, as of Shakespeare 
 himself, that he finds the Greek and Latin mythology and legend 
 poetically invaluable. It is worth while to reflect over the 
 influence of these ancient tales on modern literature, as imagina- 
 tive stimulants, or as aids to pictorial effect, to a vivid brevity, to 
 the poetic feeling through associations, etc. Our Christian 
 religion is held too gravely for poet's lightness, and the non- 
 classical inheritance of popular myth is relatively small, unat- 
 tractive, and unfamiliar. Poetry instinctively compares, illus- 
 trates, identifies, and suggests : it requires material for these 
 methods of its art that shall be generally understood, in itself be 
 beautiful, and, while touching the modern intelligence and feeling 
 by its universal truth, yet be remote from commonplace familiar- 
 ity. This is accomplished by those legends — all imagination, 
 sentiment, and grace — that lead the fancy into fields still fresh in 
 the world's early dreaming. What a loss poetry would have 
 suffered, had Dante, e. g., or Shakespeare, or Milton been denied 
 these resources ! Fine as Marlowe's treatment often is, he shows 
 little restraint, however, and often puts literary allusions in 
 speeches whose supposed authors could never have used them — 
 half Renaissance enthusiasm, half boyish pedantry. 
 
 119:59. Competitor ■= companion. 
 
 119:11. Pitch = height ; here used for shoulders. Marlowe 
 may have modeled this description on some account of Timur's 
 imposing appearance ; at any rate, this development shows youth- 
 ful exuberance. He quite omits any hint of his hero's lameness. 
 ( l^ambiirlaine = Timur the lame.) 
 
 120 : 31. Marlowe's ear for the musical effect of proper names 
 in poetry is illustrated by these lines, as elsewhere more fully. 
 From Homer to Victor Hugo, we find poets liking to use such 
 names, largely because of their very sound ; sometimes, too, 
 through an imaginative suggestiveness, as from associations of 
 travel, history, romance, etc. Cf. Milton's repeated illustrations 
 of this, as in 
 
 " Blind Thamyris and blind Mseonides, 
 And Tiresias and Phineus, prophets old," 
 
 or in the quotation given below, in note 124 : 37. 
 
TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 169 
 
 121 : 53. The magnificent outburst of passion for the illimit- 
 able world that was opening to the England of Marlowe is im- 
 paired, both here and in the greater lines of the following selec- 
 tion, by the specific application to Tamburlaine's ambition for 
 royalty. To some extent, no doubt, this feeling for material 
 power represents the poet himself. But in a truer sense, the ap- 
 plication is a weakness due to dramatic necessity. That is, 
 Marlowe starts to express his character's specific desire. The in- 
 spiration of the idea of mastery carries him beyond his theme, to 
 the "knowledge infinite" and the infinite chance of intellectual 
 conquest, which he himself, the scholar-poet of twenty-two, sees 
 opening to his as yet uncorrupted energy and ambition. Then he 
 turns the speeches back to the context, by his anticlimax of a 
 crown. No one has ever expressed so well a young man's 
 emotion at the new consciousness of what a world there is, all 
 before him. 
 
 122 : 72. The ultimate physical bases of the old science, earth, 
 air, fire, and water, to which the four humours, melancholy, blood, 
 choler, and phlegm, respectively corresponded. Marlowe has in 
 mind the Empedoclean theory that the elements are acted upon 
 by two forces, of unity and discord ; the latter builds up the sep- 
 arate organisms, which, in its complete efficiency, the former 
 would reduce to an ideal sphere. Thus, in a certain way, the 
 " warring within our breasts for regiment " (i. e., for rule) is the 
 condition of our physical life ; and even so, the faculties of mind 
 must always " wear themselves, and never rest." 
 
 123 : 6. Facts = deeds. 
 
 123:12. Marlowe applies the familiar name of the Muses, 
 " Pierides," to the nine daughters of Pierus, the Emathian king. 
 They assumed to be superior to the Mnemonides, and challenged 
 them to a contest of song. Ovid relates the story in Met. v. 294. 
 The song itself was Calliope's, and it is interesting to notice that 
 this type for Marlowe of sweetness in verse is the lovely narra- 
 tive of Proserpina, that is echoed by so many modern poets (as 
 by Dante, Purgatory, 28, 50 ; Shakespeare, Winter's Tale, iv. 4, 
 116; Milton, Paradise Lost, iv. 268). The reference in the fol- 
 lowing line is apparently to the famous contest for supremacy in 
 Attica between Athena and Poseidon, in which the greater deities 
 
170 NOTES. 
 
 sat as judges, though the familiar forms of the legend do not intro- 
 duce the music that the poet seems to have in mind. 
 
 124 : 37. Observe the elaborate epic structure of the simile, 
 with its parenthesis of independent description, and the heroic 
 tone throughout. Compare Milton's fine lines {Paradise Lost, ii. 
 636): 
 
 " As when far off at sea a fleet descried 
 Hangs in the clouds, by equinoctial winds 
 Close sailing from Bengala, or the isles 
 Of Ternate and Tidore, whence merchants bring 
 Their spicy drugs ; they on the trading flood, 
 Through the wide Ethiopian to the Cape, 
 Ply stemming nightly toward the pole ; so seemed 
 Far off the flying Fiend." 
 
 In tone and manner, the two alike show classical influence, 
 connected with diction, as well as imagination. In the last line 
 of Marlowe's parenthesis, "lightning" is a trisyllable. 
 
 125 : 1. The following is perhaps Marlowe's most splendid 
 passage ; at least it contains his finest single conception, and is 
 perhaps the longest sustained episode of pure poetry to be found 
 in his plays. Unlike his habitually simple and transparent thought 
 and imagery, the meaning here is partly involved. " His rap- 
 tures " hurry him from one figure to another, and suggest fancies 
 not always safe from the charge of extravagance (or once even of 
 the grotesque, if the conceit be rigidly developed). The eager- 
 ness of his " fine frenzy " to tell his main thought, and at the 
 same instant all the side sensations that seem to him one with it, 
 brings about such a curiously involved construction that, in fifty- 
 six lines, we meet only three or four full pauses in the sense, of 
 which one falls after a single independent line. No reader can 
 miss the contagion of the poet's mood, or frounce critically at an 
 image or two that only the warm glow of imagination can make 
 quite alive. By its converse the saying is suggested here that unless 
 the writer is impatient, the reader will be. Marlowe's splendidly 
 impatient enthusiasm carries the reader along with its own exhil- 
 aration, for the poet's mood is filled with the emotion of beauty. 
 Aside from its poetry, this passage is especially suggestive of 
 Marlowe himself. In respect to the versification, observe its 
 
TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 1J1 
 
 unusual freedom. It is less confined to the single line, or the 
 unrhymed couplet structure, and its rhythmical beauty bears no 
 sense of the absence of musical tone, such as we feel in the more 
 apprentice-like early blank verse. There are also instances (not 
 many, indeed) of the light-ending, or added eleventh syllable, 
 which Shakespeare and later masters of the metre have employed so 
 frequently to the increase of harmony and ease. In this opening 
 line Marlowe makes even twelve syllables with good effect. Two 
 illustrations may also be noticed of the nine syllable line (which 
 goes back to the fourteenth century, and of which Tennyson 
 affords a skilful study near the beginning of "The Vision of 
 Sin "), where the first of the five accentual elements of the verse is 
 a single syllable. A few illustrations will also be found of accent 
 shifted for the sake of that constantly varying tone by which later 
 poets have learned to relieve the natural monotony of our blank 
 verse, as well as by those so-called resolutions of which Marlowe 
 was always diffident. 
 
 125 ' 3. Passion = has the old sense of strong and tender 
 pain or sorrow. Zenocrate sympathizes in the distress of 
 Damascus : 
 
 " My lord, to see my father's town besieged, 
 The country wasted where myself was born, 
 How can it but afflict my very soul ? " 
 
 She is also apprehensive for her father, the Soldan, who is 
 marching to fight with this invincible Scythian. 
 
 125:8. Resolved = dissolved : i. <?., her tears fall like the 
 dew shaken in the morning from blooming sprays. Shakespeare 
 also uses dew and pearl as metaphors for tears. 
 
 125 : 9. i. <?., through her pallor and tears, the blue veining on 
 her face becomes more distinct. (This may be illustrated by the 
 line in Dr. Fanstus — " Arethusa's azured arms.") In the follow- 
 ing line observe Marlowe's deviation from mythology in making 
 Beauty, instead of Memory, the mother of the Muses, and the 
 unconscious suggestion of Marlowe's poetic dependence on sensa- 
 tion rather than on thought. 
 
 125:13. This is Cunningham's reading, for "when that," 
 and below "make, in," for "making." Dyce thought the sense 
 
172 NOTES. 
 
 hopelessly obscured. With these changes, the only difficulty is in 
 " Ebena," which is to be taken as a personification of " Even." 
 
 125 : 17. The lyrical feeling glances off into this triple rhyme. 
 The " angels in their crystal armours" represent the " rapt soul 
 sitting in thine eyes," guarded by tears. The preceding lover's 
 hyperbole, no new extravagance, is saved from its usual frigid 
 effect by the poet's intensity. 
 
 126 : 23. Mycetes and Bajazeth, whom Tamburlaine has already 
 overcome. Conceit of foil = anticipation of defeat. 
 
 126 : 26. What follows is Marlowe's most striking thought — 
 that the poet's conception of beauty is never spoken adequately. 
 The quintessence they still, etc. , = the subtlest distillation of the 
 flowers of poetry, in which the human mind (" wit ") appears at 
 its highest. The last line of the sentence, " no virtue can di- 
 gest " = no power can reduce or express. Should the development 
 of the thought appear obscure to any, it is as follows : 
 
 If every power of heart and mind, of all the poets who have 
 lived, and if all their purest inspirations of poetry, could be com- 
 bined into one single poem and employed in praise of beauty, yet 
 something of what they felt would remain, that could never be 
 expressed. There is a partial parallel to this cry from the poet 
 of emotion, in these lines of Browning, in Sordello, where the 
 idea appears in this more modern form, that what is inexpres- 
 sible is thought and character; not the poet's dream, but himself : 
 
 "... From true works (to wit, 
 Sordello's dream-performances, that will 
 Be never more than dreamed), escapes there still 
 Some proof, the singer's proper life was 'neath 
 The life his song exhibits, this a sheath 
 To that ; a passion and a knowledge far 
 Transcending these, majestic as they are, 
 Smouldered ; his lay was but an episode 
 In the bard's life . . ." 
 
 126:44. The construction of this long closing sentence is 
 difficult. The meaning is : I, Tamburlaine, the inflexible con- 
 queror, am allowing myself to be tempted by Zenocrate to con- 
 clude terms with her father. Such a hesitation would be un- 
 worthy, were it not in tribute to beauty, which touches every 
 
TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 173 
 
 high-minded hero, and also were not the enticement resisted, as 
 I will resist it, and thus prove myself more resolute than Jove 
 himself. In the line: " I thus conceiving and subduing both," the 
 last word is the adverbial correspondent to " and," placed in the 
 old usage after the words connected, instead of before : i. <?., I 
 feeling this, yet also subduing it. The text as it stands has 
 received emendations, chiefly by Dyce, and is still uncertain. 
 The allusion in " the chiefest of the gods," brought to a level with 
 shepherds, through love, may be a parallel to the earlier mention 
 of Jove (note 16). 
 
 128:40. " And if " is the old double form for " if . " Five lines 
 below, " his" is the old form for " its." 
 
 129:54. An affected way of saying "when there is an 
 eclipse." " The dragon's head " stands for the moon's ascending 
 node, and "his winding train" represents the dragon's tail, an 
 old phraseology for the intersection of the ecliptic from north to 
 south. 
 
 129: 77. An early illustration of the fondness for music in 
 the Elizabethan theatre. Songs were introduced freely, and 
 in pathetic passages such as this, slow, soft music was sometimes 
 played as an accompaniment. The same practice still prevails ; 
 stage customs are not easily broken. 
 
 130 : 87. In Dr. Faustus Marlowe was to write one of his most 
 splendid passages on this romantic theme, which Heine called 
 the " unwithering ideal of charm and beauty: Jenes ewig 
 bliihende Ideal von Anmuth und Schonheit, jene Helena von 
 Griechenland." 
 
 130 : 93. The loves of Catullus and Ovid. 
 
 130 : 103. Cavalieros = mounds for cannon. 
 
 131 : 139. The conceit makes a fit conclusion to this remark- 
 able passage, characterized as it is, notwithstanding all its force 
 and real feeling, by an under-current of extravagance. 
 
 132 : 7. From the innermost to the outermost of the heavenly 
 spheres. The moon was the first of the nine celestial circles, and 
 the empyrean lay without them all. "Jove" seems used here not 
 of the specific god, to whom the sixth sphere was assigned, but of 
 the highest divinity. The proper meaning of the entire passage 
 is in its poetic imagery. Below Rhamnusia stands for Nemesis, 
 
174 NOTES. 
 
 133 ' 13- Act IV. Sc. 3. This is the famous original of Pistol's 
 parody — (in 2 Henry IV., II. 4. 177): 
 
 " Shall pack-horses, * 
 
 And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia, 
 Which cannot go but thirty mile a-day, 
 Compare with Caesars, and with Cannibals, 
 And Trojan Greeks ? nay, rather damn them with 
 King Cerberus, and let the welkin roar." 
 
 Dyce gives a list of passages where the episode is ridiculed, to 
 which others might be added. Lamb says : " Till I saw this 
 passage with my own eyes, I never believed that it was anything 
 more than a pleasant burlesque of mine Ancient's." 
 
 134 : 44. What a contrast, to come upon such lines, after that 
 address to the royal captives with this little picture of Pluto and 
 Proserpina, classical in form as in feeling, cf. note 117 : 15, above. 
 
 135 : 9. There is an audacious brilliancy in this close, an end- 
 ing consistent with the poet's treatment of his hero hitherto. If 
 we are able to assume such a character, we can be impressed by 
 such a grandiose death-bed defiance. A comparison with the 
 dying lines of Dryden's hero, in Tyrannic Love, is in Marlowe's 
 favour. Maximin challenges the Gods thus : 
 
 " Your altars I with smoke of gums did crown, 
 For which you leaned your hungry nostrils down, 
 
 But by the Gods (by Maximin, I meant) 
 Henceforth I, and my world, 
 Hostility with you, and yours, declare. 
 Look to it, Gods ; for you the aggressors are. 
 Keep you your rain and sunshine in your skies, 
 And I'll keep back my flame and sacrifice. 
 Your trade of Heaven shall soon be at a stand, 
 And all your goods lie dead upon your hand. 
 
 Before I die— 
 Bring me Porphyrius and my empress dead ; — 
 I would brave Heaven, in my each hand a head." 
 
 and as he stabs Placidius, he dies exclaiming : 
 
 •' And shoving back this earth on which I sit, 
 I'll mount, and scatter all the Gods I hit." 
 
 It is well worth while to compare such a passage of the false-sub- 
 
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD. 175 
 
 lime written by a great poet at the age of thirty-eight, and in the 
 wake of a great dramatic era, with the hyperboles of Marlowe 
 when twenty-two, experimenting in our first effective English 
 play. The two poets are alike in lacking humour, but otherwise, 
 what an essential difference there is between the rodomontade of 
 Dryden, and those exaggerations of Marlowe that continually 
 impress us with the sense of a gift for greatness, if only in the use 
 of words. 
 
 Dryden lived to laugh at his own Maximin, and to write an 
 admirable play : so even those to whom Tamburlaine appears 
 mainly ranting, must recognize the promise of its energy. Yet 
 some there must be who will care for these first-fruits for their 
 own sake, as poetry that touches sensibility, even where the criti- 
 cal faculty is not persuaded. Even where we feel the ranting, we 
 feel, too, that there is the tone and touch of a hidden Apollo. But 
 there are times when meaning and manner alike are those of the 
 god revealed. 
 
 THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD. 
 
 136. The adjective of the title was a favourite Elizabethan word 
 for expressing sentimental emotion. The text is that given by 
 Dyce, who speaks of the poem as follows : "It was originally 
 printed, but wanting the fourth and sixth stanzas, in The Pas- 
 sionate Pilgrim, 1599. It was for the first time published 
 complete and subscribed with the real author's name, ' C. Mar- 
 lowe,' in England's Helicon, 1600. Few songs have been 
 more popular than this : we find both a Reply to and an Imita- 
 tion of it in England's Helicon ; snatches of it are sung by Sir 
 Hugh Evans in The Merry Wives of Windsor ; and Donne and 
 Herrick have each (unsuccessfully) attempted to rival it. In 1653, 
 when it was comparatively little known, Isaac Walton, by insert- 
 ing it in The Complete Angler, gave it fresh celebrity. Making 
 no appeal to the heart, nor having any force of sentiment, it 
 cannot be regarded as a love-song of the highest class : but it is 
 among the very best of those sweet and fanciful strains with which 
 genius has enriched the fabled Arcadia." 
 
I7 6 NOTES. 
 
 Here is Walton's way of introducing the poem in The Complete 
 Angler: "As I left this place, and entered into the next field, 
 a second pleasure entertained me ; 'twas a handsome milkmaid 
 that had cast away all care, and sung like a nightingale ; her voice 
 was good, and the ditty fitted for it ; 'twas that smooth song 
 which was made by Kit Marlowe, now at least fifty years ago ; 
 and the milkmaid's mother sung an answer to it, which was made 
 by Sir Walter Raleigh in his younger days. They were old- 
 fashioned poetry, but choicely good ; I think much better than 
 that now in fashion in this Critical age." Raleigh's verses run in 
 this wise : 
 
 " If all the world and love were young, 
 And truth in every shepherd's tongue, 
 These pretty pleasures might me move 
 To live with thee and be thy love. 
 
 " But time drives flocks from field to fold, 
 When rivers rage and rocks grow cold ; 
 And Philomel becometh dumb ; 
 The rest complains of cares to come. 
 
 " The flowers do fade, and wanton fields 
 To wayward winter reckoning yields : 
 A honey tongue, a heart of gall, 
 Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. 
 
 " Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, 
 Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, 
 Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten, 
 In folly ripe, in reason rotten. 
 
 " Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, 
 Thy coral clasps and amber studs, 
 All these in me no means can move 
 To come to thee and be thy love. 
 
 " But could youth last, and love still breed ; 
 Had joys no date, nor age no need ; 
 Then these delights my mind might move 
 To live with thee and be thy love.'' 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 177 
 
 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 137. The legend of Leander's swimming from Abydos to 
 Sestos by night to visit Hero, and his death while attempting to 
 cross during a winter storm, is perhaps " an old Milesian story," 
 but its early literary history is mainly Roman. Probably the 
 earliest extant mention of it is as late as Vergil, who {Georgics, iii. 
 258-263) alludes to it as a well-known tale. He might have 
 heard it from Parthenius, his supposed teacher in Greek, whose 
 taste for such romantic stories is shown by the collection that he 
 prepared for Gallus ; but it was probably generally familiar before 
 his day. It occurs in a graceful little Greek epitaph {An- 
 thology, vii. 666) by Antipater of Thessalonia, who lived in the 
 Augustan era ; where the lamp that Hero was accustomed to show 
 from her tower, and the tower itself, as well as the lovers' single 
 tomb, are mentioned for the first time. In another Greek frag- 
 ment no doubt later {Anthology, ix. 381), we find the story out- 
 lined in the artificial form of a "cento" of Homeric clauses, 
 which describes the heroine's anxious watch in her tower on a 
 promontory by the broad Hellespont, the lamp, and the deep 
 night and wild waves. The earliest important treatment of the 
 subject is by Ovid, whose Heroides, xvii. and xviii,, make up a 
 poem of over four hundred lines. The epistolary form prevented 
 his introducing the pathetic conclusion, save by premonition. 
 This manner of handling the theme is in his more studied early 
 style. The lover complains of the stormy sea which prevents him 
 from crossing — a situation in Dante's mind, when he mentions 
 Leander in one of his loveliest passages {Purgatory, 28, 71-75). 
 Hero is lovingly petulant at his failure to come, in spite of the 
 storm. Touches of feeling may be found, but there is an air of 
 rhetoric about them. The most pleasing passage is the descrip- 
 tion of Hero talking with her old waiting-woman about Leander's 
 coming — one of Ovid's vivacious studies of feminine moods ; too 
 trivial, however, for the sentimental legend. The tower and 
 lamp are only incidentally mentioned, greatly as these contribute 
 to the picturesque beauty of the story, as was felt by Statius, who 
 introduced them in his unimportant sketch of the legend ( Thebais, 
 vi. 520), by Shakespeare, in " another Hero's tower," and indeed, 
 
17^ NOTES. 
 
 by almost every poet who refers to these early lovers, whose 
 "names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse." 
 But it was left for Musseus, whose date appears to be late in the 
 fifth century, and of whose life we learn only that he was a scholar 
 by profession, to compose the great memorial of them. His 
 poem consists of but 341 lines, yet its dignified construction 
 justifies its designation as a "little epic." It appeared when 
 poetry had for a long time fallen into decay ; yet though 
 various marks of the late Hellenistic taste may be discerned, 
 it still remains a worthy and lovely example of Greek poetry. 
 The author writes of the lover's emotion without losing 
 artistic moderation ; his sense of beauty is contented with calm 
 and compressed statement; he introduces delicate minor effects 
 that at first we may pass unobserved ; to his eye the tower, the 
 lamp, the lovers' figures, the storm, are pictures. It is an ex- 
 perience to come upon this poem of an era from which we expect 
 little, and to find finished verse, a firm and elegant narrative, 
 such happy pleadings of the love mastered by love without warn- 
 ing, such delicate yielding hesitation as this maiden's, a story of 
 love's bright consummation so happily recounted. After a brief 
 three hundred lines, we reach the wintry night, through whose 
 waves Leander struggled until his strength failed, and the wind at 
 one moment extinguished the torch upon the tower and Leander's 
 life and love. But Hero, gazing through the darkness, saw with 
 the dawn her lover's body torn by the rocks at the foot of the 
 tower, and "threw herself down and lay dead over her dead 
 spouse," 
 
 " And each won other in the worst of death." 
 
 It is the old fashion of writing, where the poet does not press 
 his reader with details, or play schoolmaster to his imagination. 
 The poem has found several modern translators, including such dis- 
 tinguished poets as Clement Marot (whose version, dated 1541, fol- 
 lows close to the text, but quite misses the serious dignity of the 
 Greek style) and George Chapman. The latter, who in his preface 
 (1616) calls his original "the incomparable love-poem of the 
 world," also makes a faithful transcript, barring occasional Chap- 
 man caprices, but his style and verse are too forcible to represent 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 179 
 
 the elegance of Musaeus. It was the privilege of Marlowe to 
 compose a new Hero and Leander, a romance in couplets splen- 
 didly rhyming, even overcharged with sensation, poetic buoyancy, 
 and imagination. Notwithstanding its nine hundred lines, it is 
 but a fragment ; the narrative breaks off when it has first reached 
 the lovers' union. The words "translation" and "paraphrase" 
 that have been applied to it, in relation to Musseus, are equally 
 incorrect. Marlowe, in a manner, follows the Greek poet's treat- 
 ment, as he also echoes Ovid, but his thoughts, images, arid 
 romantic inspirations are independent. After his death, Chapman 
 divided the uncompleted poem into two " Sestiads," and added 
 four of his own ; this work was published some years before his 
 translation appeared. In reading tbese extracts, attention should 
 be paid to Marlowe's remarkable management of the rhyming 
 couplet. 
 
 137 : 1. A reference to the myth of the drowning of Helle. 
 
 137:22. The author of this " tragedy" was supposed, by 
 Renaissance students, to be the legendary poet of ancient Greece, 
 nearly contemporary with Orpheus. So thought even Julius 
 Scaliger, and more than twenty years after Marlowe's death 
 Chapman quoted, without discrediting it, the familiar identifica- 
 tion of the author with Vergil's famous reference to " Musaeum 
 ante omnes." 
 
 138:45. Narcissus. 
 
 139 : 64. Discolour d = of various colors. 
 J 39 : 73- Vaitd = bent. 
 
 I 39*75- The arrow that caused love, instead of the leaden 
 one. (Ovid, Met. 1. 470.) 
 *39 * 83. Course = race. 
 
 140 : 90. Quoted by Shakespeare in Phoebe's speech. (As You 
 Like It, III., 5, 82.) 
 
 " Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might, 
 Who ever loved that loved not at first sight ? " 
 
 Where the " Dead shepherd" at last seems to suggest feeling 
 for Marlowe's memory, beneath the formal address of the pastoral. 
 140 : 103. i. e., in the darkness of the lower world. 
 
EitGlisb IReabings for Students, 
 
 This collection is planned to supply English master- 
 pieces in editions at once competently edited and inex- 
 pensive. The aim will be to fill vacancies now existing 
 because of subject, treatment, or price. The volumes 
 will be of convenient size and serviceably bound. 
 
 Coleridge : Prose Extracts. 
 
 Selections chosen and edited with introduction and notes by Henry 
 A. Beers, Professor in Yale College, xxix + 148 pp. i6mo. 
 Boards. Teachers' price, 30 cents ; postage 4 cents additional. 
 
 The selections, varying in length from a paragraph to 
 ten or twenty pages, will be mainly from Table Talk and 
 Biographia Literaria, but also in part from The Frie?id, 
 Notes on Shakspeare, and other writings. They have 
 been chosen, so far as may be, to illustrate the range and 
 variety of Coleridge's thought, and, to emphasize this 
 purpose, have been grouped by subjects. The introduc- 
 tion briefly summarizes the author's intellectual position 
 and influence. 
 
 De Quincey : Joan of Arc and The English Mail 
 Coach. 
 
 Edited with an introduction and notes by James Morgan Hart, 
 Professor in Cornell University, xxvi + 138 pp. i6mo. Boards. 
 Teachers' price, 30 cents ; postage 4 cents additional. 
 
 These essays have been chosen as fairly representative 
 of the two most notable phases of the author's work, and 
 as at the same time attractive to the novice in literary 
 study. The introduction sketches the leading facts of 
 De Quincey's life, and indicates some of the prominent 
 
 1 
 
English fadings for Students. 
 
 features of his style. Allusions and other points of un- 
 usual difficulty are explained in the notes. This volume 
 and the one containing the Essays on BosweWs Johnson 
 (see below) are used at Cornell University as foundation 
 for elementary rhetorical study. 
 
 Dryden : Select Plays. 
 
 Edited with a brief introduction and notes by James W. Bright, 
 Assistant Professor in the Johns Hopkins University. About ioo 
 pp. i2mo. [In preparation .] 
 
 Aside from their representing the principal literary ac- 
 tivity, in point of quantity, of one of the foremost English 
 writers, Dryden's plays have a peculiar interest in having 
 been among the first to be played upon the reopening of 
 the theatres under Charles II. 
 
 Goldsmith : Present State of Polite Learning. 
 
 Edited with introduction and notes by J. M. Hart, Professor in 
 Cornell University. About ioo pp. i6mo. [In preparation.'] 
 
 There are many reasons, some of them obvious, for 
 giving this essay a place in the English Readings series. 
 One that may be mentioned is the remarkably clear 
 insight it affords into the entire eighteenth-century way 
 of criticising. The introduction and notes will direct 
 the student's attention along this line of observation. 
 
 Lyly : Endimion. 
 
 With introduction and notes by George P. Baker, Instructor in 
 Harvard College. About ioo pp. i6mo. [Ready soon.] 
 
 Lyly's plays really show him to a better advantage than 
 does the Euphues, by which he is chiefly remembered, 
 and his place in English dramatic history makes it de- 
 sirable that one at least should be easily accessible. 
 
English fadings for Students. 
 
 Macaulay and Carlyle : Croker's Boswell's John- 
 son. 
 
 The complete essays, with brief notes and an introduction by James 
 Morgan Hart, Professor in Cornell University. A preliminary 
 edition, without notes, is now supplied. 93 pp. 121110. Boards. 
 Teachers' price, 30 cents ; postage 4 cents additional. 
 
 These parallel treatments of Croker's editing, and of 
 the characters of Boswell and Dr. Johnson, afford an 
 unusual opportunity for comparative study. The two 
 essays present a constant contrast in intellectual and 
 moral methods of criticism which cannot fail to turn the 
 attention of students to important principles of biographi- 
 cal writing, while equally important principles of diction 
 are impressively illustrated in the two strongly marked 
 styles. The essays also offer an excellent introduction 
 to the study of the literary history of Johnson's times. 
 
 Marlowe : Edward II. With the best passages from 
 Tamburlaine the Great, and from his Poems. 
 
 With brief notes and an introductory essay by Edward T. Mc- 
 Laughlin, Professor in Yale College. 
 
 Aside from the intrinsic value of Edward II, as Mar- 
 lowe's most important work, the play is of great interest 
 in connection with Shakespere. The earlier chronicle 
 drama was in Shakespere's memory as he was writing 
 Richard II, as various passages prove, and a comparison 
 of the two plays (sketched in the introduction) affords 
 basis for a study in the development of the Elizabethan 
 drama. Since Tamburlaine has really no plot and 
 character-development, extracts that illustrate its poeti- 
 cal quality lose nothing for lack of a context. The 
 unobjectionable beginning of Hero and Leander is per- 
 haps the finest narrative verse of the sixteenth century. 
 
English Tradings for Students. 
 
 Specimens of Argumentation. I. Classic. 
 
 Chosen and edited by George P. Baker, Instructor in English 
 in Harvard College, and Non-resident Lecturer on Argumentative 
 Composition in Wellesley College. \In preparation.] 
 
 Specimens of Argumentation. II. Modern. 
 
 Chosen and edited by George P. Baker. i6mo. 186 pp. 
 Boards. [In press.] 
 
 This compilation includes Lord Chatham's speech on 
 the withdrawal of troops from Boston, Lord Mansfield's 
 argument in the Evans case, the first letter of Junius, 
 the first of Huxley's American addresses on evolution, 
 Erskine's defence of Lord George Gordon, and an ad- 
 dress of Beecher's in Liverpool during the cotton riots. 
 The choice and editing has been controlled by the needs 
 of the courses in " Forensics" in Harvard College. The 
 earlier selections offer excellent material for practice in 
 drawing briefs, a type of such a brief being given in the 
 volume. The notes aim to point out the conditions 
 under which each argument was made, the difficulties to 
 be overcome, and wherein the power of the argument 
 lies. It is thought that the collection, as a whole, will 
 be found to contain available illustrations of all the main 
 principles of argumentation, including the handling of 
 evidence, persuasion, and scientific exposition. 
 
 HENRY HOLT & CO., Publishers, New York. 
 
 88 
 
 
•:?:»;« ,* 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 *£»■ -^ «*^vv Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
 
 Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
 Treatment Date: Feb. 2009 
 
 PreservationTechnologies x 
 
 A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 
 
 111 Thomson Park Drive 
 Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
 (724)779-2111 
 
 r 
 
. *°o J** 'life. % 0° -^S^. °^ ./ . 
 
 
 i1 
 
 
 
 
 
 •^o« 
 
 ***** * J 
 
 
 W 
 
 
 
 * v . 
 
 1 1 BOOKBINDING 
 HI] Crantv.lle. Pa 
 Jan Feb 1989 
 
 W« re Quj/rH Bound 
 
 
 "W 
 
 r oV