THE DRAMATIC WORKS 
 
 Chpj.stopher - Marlowe.v t^' 
 
 f? 
 (SELECTED.) 
 
 
 By PERCY E. PINKERTON. ' | 
 
 
 JAME$ POTT <§: qO,, 
 14 ^ x6 AsTOR Place, 
 
 1885. 
 
.T5 
 
 o 5 5 5 
 
 4^ « 
 
 JUL 1 7 1942 
 
PRE FA TOR V NO TICE. 
 
 It is worthy of remark that "Dido" is Marlowe's 
 
 only play which depends for its interest upon love. 
 
 In all his other dramas he has never cared to give 
 
 love any prominence. Nor did he try to create 
 
 any interesting female figure. He has no heroines. 
 
 I'Xenocrate, Zabina, Bellamira, Isabel, are all 
 
 ijshadowy, intangible beings, without individuality, 
 
 'without charm. If "Dido" interests us, it is because 
 
 •sVirgil has drawn her ; Marlowe merely reproduces 
 
 ■-jhe picture, with no perceptible sympathy for his 
 
 •^'subject. He seems to take most delight when he 
 
 ' !na> indulge his passion for rich and coloured 
 
 •, /lescription ; when he may paint ships with golden 
 
 ^Sordage, crystal anchors, and ivory oars ; when he 
 
 . nay speak of Dido's "silver arms" and "tears of 
 
 ',' oearl," or imagine "common soldiers" in "rich 
 
 'Embroidered coats," with 
 
 1,^' "Silver whistles to control the winds." 
 
 ^•'ind this exuberant passion for describing and 
 ,, contemplating the beautiful, this delight in all out- 
 'flvard and visible loveliness, strong as it is in all 
 jfais dramas, seems strongest in that magnificent 
 
 iV. 
 
xxviii PRE FA TOR Y NO TICE. 
 
 fragment of narrative verse, " Hero and Leander; 
 For its splendour of imagery, lustre of epithet, ant 
 melody of phrase, this takes the first place amon^ 
 all similar work of the golden Elizabethan age^ 
 Shakespeare's "Venus and Adonis" comes far belov 
 it ; indeed, that poem is both an imitation and l 
 failure. Marlowe handled the long rhyming coupl^' 
 as no one else could handle it, giving to it tl'' 
 three supreme qualities of simplicity, sensuousnes 
 and passion. As we read his " goulden lynes," h ^ 
 "sweet-according rimes," I think they touch ofe 
 imagination, they satisfy our sense of form aif 
 melody in a far deeper degree than any dexteroul t' 
 polished passage that we can choose from Pop 
 professedly a master in the making of that difficu 
 kind of verse. 
 
 To produce a match for " Hero and Leander," 
 find an English poem really similar to it in feeli' 
 and in form, we must pass down the centuries ur 
 we come to that other " Elizabethan, born out / 
 due time," until we come to Keats and to lV| 
 " Endymion." That breathes the same frank,^ 
 suous love for the beautiful — that has the san? 
 
THE JEW OF MALTA, 
 
 BARABAS BROODS UPON HIS WEALTH. 
 
 Act I., Scene 1. I 
 
 Bara. So that of thus much that return was made ; ■ 
 And of the third part of the Persian ships 
 There was the venture summ'dand satisfied. 
 As for those Saninites, and the men of Uz, \ 
 
 That bouglit my Spanish oils and wines of Greece, | 
 
 Here have I purs'd tlieir paltry silverlings. \ 
 
 Fie, what a trouble 'tis to count tliis trash ! j 
 
 Well fare the Arabians, who so richly pay 
 The things they traffic for with wedge of gold, 
 Whereof a man may easily in a day 
 Tell that which may maintain him all his life. 
 The needy groom, that never finger'd groat, 
 Would make a miracle of thus much coin ; 
 But he whose steel-barr'd coffers are cramm'd full, 
 And all his life-time hath been tired. 
 Wearying his fingers' ends with telling it, 
 Would in his age be loath to labour so. 
 And for a pound to sweat himself to death. 
 
36 THE JEW OF MALTA. 
 
 Give me the merchants of the Indian mines, 
 
 That trade in metal of the purest mould ; 
 
 The wealthy Moor, that in the eastern rocks 
 
 Without control can pick his riches up, 
 
 And in his house heap pearl like pebble-stones, 
 
 Receive them free, and sell them by the weight ; 
 
 Bags of fiery opals, sapphires, amethysts, 
 
 Jacinths, hard topaz, grass-green emeralds, 
 
 Beauteous rubies, sparkling diamonds, 
 
 And seld-seen costly stones of so great price, 
 
 As one of them, indifferently rated. 
 
 And of a carat of this quantity, 
 
 May serve, in peril of calamity, 
 
 To ransom great kings from captivity. 
 
 This is the ware wherein consists my wealth ; 
 
 And thus methinks should men of judgment frame 
 
 Their means of traffic from the vulgar trade, 
 
 And, as their wealth increaseth, so inclose 
 
 Infinite riches in a little room. 
 
 But now how stands the wind ? 
 
 Into what corner peers my halcyon's bill ? 
 
 Ha ! to the east ? yes. See how stand the vanes — 
 
 East and by south : why, then, I hope my ships 
 
 I sent for Egypt and the bordering isles 
 
 Are gotten up by Nilus' winding banks ; 
 
 Mine argosy from Alexandria, 
 
 Loaden with spice and silks, now under sail. 
 
 Are smoothly gliding down by Candy-shore 
 
 To Malta, through our Mediterranean sea. 
 
THE JE W OF MALTA. 37 
 
 THE JEW AND HIS DAUGHTER. | 
 
 Act II,, Scene 1. \ 
 
 \ 
 
 Bara. Thus, like the sad-presaging raven, that tolls 
 The sk-k man's passport in her hollow beak, 
 And in the shadow of the silent ni^ht 
 
 Doth shake contagion from her sable wings, \ 
 
 Vex'd and tormented runs poor Barabas \ 
 
 With fatal curses towards these Christians, • 
 
 The incertain pleasures of swift-footed time ■ 
 
 Have ta'en their flight, and lelt me in despair ; 
 And of my former riches rests no more 
 But bare remembrance ; like a soldier's scar, 
 That has no further comfort for his maim. — | 
 
 0, Thou, that with a tiery pillar ledd'st '- 
 
 The sons of Israel through the dismal shades, 
 Light Abraham's offspring ; and direct the hand 
 Of Abigail this night ! or let the day 
 Turn to eternal darkness alter this ! — 
 No sleep can fasten on my watchful eyes, 
 Nor quiet enter my distemper'd thoughts, 
 Till I have answer from my Abigail. 
 
 [Enter Abigail above. 
 
 AUg. Now have I happily espied a time 
 To search the plank my father did appoint ; \ 
 
 And here, behold, unseen, where I have found ! 
 
 The gold, the peai'ls, and jewels, which he hid. 
 
 Bara. Now I remember those old women's words, 
 Who in my wealth would tell me winter's tales, 
 And speak of spirits and ghosts that glide by night 
 About the place were treasure hath been hid ; j 
 
 And now methinks that I am one of those : j 
 
38 THE JE VV OF MAL TA. 
 
 For, whilst I live, here lives ray soul's sole hope, 
 And, when I die, here shall my spirit walk. 
 
 Ahig. Now that my father's fortune were so 
 good 
 As bnt to be about this happy place ! 
 'Tis not so happy : yet, when we parted last, 
 He said he would attend me in the morn. 
 Then, gentle Sleep, where'er his body rests. 
 Give charge to Morpheus that he may dream 
 A golden dream, and of the sudden wake. 
 Come and receive the treasure I have found. 
 
 Bara. Bucno para todos mi (janado no era : 
 As good go on, as sit so sadly thus.— 
 But stay : wliat star shines yonder in the east 1 
 The loadstar of my life, if Abigail. — 
 Who's there ? 
 
 Ahig. Who's that ? 
 
 Bara. Peace, Abigail ! 'tis I. 
 
 Ahig. Then, father, here receive thy happiness, 
 
 Bara. Hast thou't ? 
 
 Ahig. Here, {throws down hags] Hast thou't? 
 There's more, and more, and more. 
 
 Bara. my girl, 
 My gold, my fortune, my felicity. 
 Strength to my soul, death to mine enemy ; 
 Welcome the first beginner of my bliss ! 
 Abigail, Abigail, that 1 had thee here too ! 
 Then my desires were fully satisfied : 
 But I will practise thy enlargement thence : 
 girl I gold ! beauty ! niy bliss ! 
 
 [Hugs the hags. 
 
 Ahig. Father, it draweth towards midnight now, 
 And 'bout this time the nuns begin to wake ; 
 To shun suspicion, therefore, let us part. 
 
THE JE VV OF MALTA. 39 
 
 Bara, Farewp]], my joy, and by my fingers take 
 A kiss from him that seods it from his sonl. 
 
 \Exit Abigail ahovc. 
 Now, Phoebus, ope the eyelids of the day, 
 And, for the raven, wake the morning lark, 
 That I may hover with her iu the air, 
 Singing o'er these, as she does o'er her young. 
 
 THE JEW'S LESSON IN CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 
 Act II., Scene 2. 
 
 Bara. Now let me know thy name, and thertnvitlial 
 Thy birth, condition, and prolession. 
 
 Itlxa, Faith, sir, my birth is but mean ; my name's 
 Ithamore ; my profession what you please. 
 
 Bara. Hast thou no trade ? then listen to my words. 
 And I will teach [thee] that shall stick by thee : 
 First, be thou void of these afiections. 
 Compassion, love, vain hope, and heartless fear ; 
 Be mov'd at nothing, see thou pity none. 
 But to thyself smile when the Christians moan. 
 
 Itha. 0, brave master ! I worship yournose for this. 
 
 Bara. As for myself, I walk abroad 0' nights, 
 And kill sick people groaning under walls : 
 Sometimes I go about and poison wells ; 
 And now and then, to cherish Christian thieves, 
 I am content to lose some of my crowns, 
 That I may, walking in my gallery, 
 See 'em go pinion'd along by my door. 
 Being young, I studied physic, and begin 
 To practise first upon the Italian ; 
 There I enrich'd the priests with burials 
 And always kept the sexton's arms in ure 
 
40 THE JE W OF MALTA. 
 
 With diggin.sf j^raves and rinp;in,or dead men's knells : 
 
 And, alter that, was I an engineer, 
 
 And in the wars 'twixt France and Germany, 
 
 Under pretence of heluing Charles the Filth, 
 
 Slew friend and enemy with my stratagems : 
 
 Then, after that, was I an usurer, 
 
 And with extorting, cozening, forfeiting, 
 
 And tricks belonging unto broker}', 
 
 I fill'd the gaols with bankrupts in a year, 
 
 And with young orjihans planted hospitals ; 
 
 And every moon made some or other mad, 
 
 And now and then one hang himself for grief, 
 
 Pinning upon his breast a long great scroll 
 
 How I with interest tormented him. 
 
 But mark how I am blest for plaguing them — 
 
 I have as much coin as will buy the town. 
 
 But tell me now, how hast thou spent thy time ? 
 
 Ilha. Faith, master, 
 In setting Christian villages on fire, 
 Chaining of eunuchs, binding galley-slaves. 
 One time I was an hostler in an inn. 
 And in the night-time secretly would I steal 
 To travellers' chambers, and there cut their throats: 
 Once at Jerusalem, where the pilgrims kneel'd, 
 I strewed yiowder on the marble stones, 
 And therewithal their knees would rankle so, 
 That I have laughed a-good to see the cripples 
 Go limping home to Christendom on stilts. 
 
 Bara. Why, this is something : make account of me 
 As of thy fellow; we are villains both ; 
 Both circumcised ; we hate Christians both ; 
 Be true and secret ; thou shall want no gold. 
 
THE JE W OF MA LTA. 41 
 
 THE MURDER OF THE FRIAR. 
 
 Act IV., ScpzNE 2. 
 
 Enter Barabas and Ithamorb. 
 
 Bara, Ithaniore, tell me, is the friar asleep? 
 
 Jtha. Yes ; and I know not what the reason is, 
 Do what I can, he will not strip himself, 
 Nor ^o to bed, but sleeps in his own clothes : 
 I fear me he mistrusts what we intend. 
 
 Bara. Ko ; 'tis an order which the friars use : 
 Yet if he knew our meanings, could he scape ? 
 
 Itha. No, none can hear him, cry he ne'er so loud. 
 
 Bara. Why, true ; therefore did I place him there : 
 The other chambers open towards the street. 
 
 Itha. You loiter, master ; wherefore stay we thus ? 
 0, how I long to see him shake his heels ! 
 
 Bara. Come on, sirrah : 
 Off with your girdle ; make a handsome noose. — 
 
 [Ithamore takes off his girdle, and ties a noose on it. 
 Friar, awake ! 
 
 [They put the noose round the Friar's neek. 
 
 Friar Barn. What, do you mean to strangle me ? 
 
 Itha. Yes, 'cause you use to confess. 
 
 Bara. Blame not us, but the proverb — Confess and 
 be hanged. — Pull hard. 
 
 Friar Barn. What, will you have my life ? 
 
 Bara. Pull hard, I say. — You would have had my 
 goods. 
 
 Itha. Ay, and our lives too — therefore pull amain. 
 [They sti^angle the Friar, 
 'Tis neatly done, sir ; here's no print at all. 
 
 Bara. Then is it as it should be. Take him up. 
 
42 THE JE W OF MAL TA. 
 
 1 
 
 Jtha. ITay, master, be ruled by me a little. [Takes 
 the body, sets it upright against the wall, and puts a 
 staff in its hajid.] So, let him lean upon his staff; 
 excellent ! he stands as if he were begging of bacon. 
 
 Bara. "Who would not think but that this friar 
 liv'd ? 
 What time o' night is't now, sweet Itharaore t 
 
 Itha. Towards one. 
 
 Bara. Then will not Jacomo be long from henco, 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 Enter Friar Jacomo. 
 
 Friar Jac. Tliis is the hour wherein I shall proceed ; 
 happy hour, wherein I shall convert 
 An iuhdel, and bring his gold into our treasury 1 
 But soft ! is not this Bariiardine ? it is ; 
 And, understanding I should come this waj', 
 Stands here o' purpose, meaning me some wrong, 
 And intercept my going to the Jew. — 
 Barnardine ! 
 
 Wilt thou not speak ? thou think'st I see thee not ; 
 Away, I'd wish thee, and let me go by : 
 No, wilt thou not ? nay, then, I'll force my way ; 
 And, see, a staff stands ready for the purpose. 
 As thou lik'st that, stop me another time ! 
 
 [ TaJces the staff, and strikes down the body. 
 
 Enter Barabas and Ithamore. 
 
 Bara, Why, how now Jacomo ! what hast thou 
 
 done ? 
 Friar Jac. Why, stricken him that would have 
 
 struck at me. 
 
THE JE W OF MAL TA. 43 
 
 Bara. Who is it ? Barnardine ! now, out, alas, ho 
 is slain ! 
 
 Itlia. Ay, master, he's slain ; look how his brains 
 drop out on's nose. 
 
 Friar Jac. Good sirs, I have done't : but nobody 
 knows it but you two ; I may escape. 
 
 Bara. So might my man and I hang with you for 
 conifiany. 
 
 Itha. No ; let us bear him to the magistrates. 
 
 Friar Jac. Good Barabas, let me go. 
 
 Bara, No, pardon me ; the law must have hi.s 
 course : 
 I must be forc'd to give in evidence, 
 That, being importun'd by this Barnardine 
 To be a Christian, I shut him out. 
 And there he sate : now I, to keep my word, 
 And give my goods and substance to your house, 
 Was up thus early, with intent to go 
 Unto your iriary, because you stay'd. 
 
 Itha. Fie upon 'em ! master, will you turn Christian, 
 when holy friars turn devils and murder one another ? 
 
 Bara. No ; for this exam])]e I'll remain a Jew : 
 Heaven bless me ! what, a friar a murderer ! 
 When shall you see a Jew commit the like ? 
 
 Itha. Why, a Turk could ha' done no more. 
 
 Bara. To-morrow is the sessions ; you shall to it. — 
 Come, Ithamore, let's help to take him hence. 
 
 Friar Jac. Villains, I am a sacred person ; touch 
 me not. 
 
 Bara. The law shall touch you ; we'll but lead you, 
 we : 
 'Las, I could weep at your calamity ! — 
 Take in the staff* too, for that must be shown : 
 Law wills that each particular be known. [Exeunt. 
 
44 THE JEW OF MALTA. 
 
 THE JEW, m DISGUISE, POISONS HIS TRUANT 
 SLAVE. 
 
 Act IV., Scene 5. 
 
 Bell. A French musician ! — Come, let's hear your 
 skill. 
 
 Bara. Must tuna my lute for sound, twang, twang, 
 first. 
 
 Itha. Wilt drink. Frenchman ? here's to thee with 
 a Pox on this drunken liiccup ! 
 
 Bara. Gramercy, monsieur. 
 
 Bell. Prithee, Pilia-Borza, bid the fiddler give me the 
 posy in his hat there. 
 
 Pilia. Sirrah, you must give my mistress your posy. 
 
 Bara. A voire commandement, madame. 
 
 [Giving nosegay. 
 
 Bell. How sweet, my Tthamore, the flowers smell ! 
 
 Itha. Like thy breath, sweetheart ; no violet like 'em. 
 
 Pilia. Foh ! methinks they stink like a hollyhock. 
 
 Bara. So, now I am reveng'd upon 'em all : 
 The scent thereof was death ; I poison'd it. [Aside. 
 
 Itha. Play, fiddler, or I'll cut your cat's guts into 
 chitterlings. 
 
 Bara. Pardonnez moi, be no in tune yet : so, now, 
 now all be in. 
 
 Itha. Give him a crown, and fill me out more wine. 
 
 Pilia. There's two crowns for thee : play. 
 
 [Giving money. 
 
 Bara. How liberally the villain gives me mine own 
 gold ! [Aside, and then plays. 
 
 Pilia. Methinks he fingers very well. 
 
 Bara. So did you when you stole my gold. [Aside. 
 
THE JE W OF MAL TA. 45 
 
 Pilia. How swift he runs ! 
 
 Bara. You ruu swifter when you threw my gold out 
 of my window. [Aside. 
 
 Bdl. Musician, hast been in Malta long ! 
 
 Bara. Two, three, four month, madam. 
 
 Itha. Dost not know a Jew, one Barabas ? 
 
 Bara. Very mush ; monsieur, you no be his man ? 
 
 Pilia. His man ! 
 
 Itha. I scorn the peasant ; tell him so. 
 
 Bara. He knows it already. [Aside. 
 
 Itha. 'Tis a strange tiling of that Jew, he lives upon 
 pickled grasshoppers and sauced mushrooms. 
 
 Bara. What a slave's this ! the governor feeds not as 
 I do. {Aside. 
 
 Itha. He never put on clean shirt since he was 
 circumcised. 
 
 Bara. Oh rascal ! I change myself twice a-day. [Aside. 
 
 Itha. The hat he wears, Judas left under the elder 
 when he hanged himself. 
 
 Bara. 'Twas sent me for a present from the Great 
 Cham. [Aside. 
 
 Pilia. A nasty slave he is. — "Whither now, fiddler ? 
 
 Bara. Pardonnez moi, monsieur ; me be no well. 
 
 Pilia. Farewell, fiddler. [^a;t'^ Barabas. ] One letter 
 more to the Jew. 
 
 Bell. Prithee, sweet love, one more, and write it sharp. 
 
 Itha. No, I'll send by word of mouth now. — Bid him 
 deliver thee a thousand crowns, by the same token that 
 the nuns loved rice, that Friar Baruardiue slept in liis 
 own clothes ; any of 'em will do it. 
 
 Pilia. Let me alone to urge it, now I know the meaning. 
 
 Itha. The meaning has a meaning. Come, let's in : 
 To undo a Jew is charity, and not sin. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Edward II. 
 
 Edward III. 
 
 Gaveston. 
 
 Old Spencer. 
 
 Younj; Spencer 
 
 Earl Mortimer. 
 
 Younic Mortimer. 
 
 Berkeley. 
 
 Lancaster. 
 
 Leicester. 
 
 Edmund, Earl of Kent. 
 
 Arundel. 
 
 Warwick. 
 
 Pembroke. 
 
 Archbishop 0/ Canterbury. 
 
 Bishop of Winchester. 
 
 Bishop of Coventry. 
 
 Beaumont 
 Trussel. 
 
 Sir John Hainault. 
 Levune. 
 Baldock. 
 Matrevis. 
 Gurney. 
 Rice ap HoweL 
 Linhtborn. 
 Abl.ot. 
 
 Lorda, Messengers, Monks, 
 James, etc., etc. 
 
 Queen Isabella. 
 Niece to Edward II 
 Ladies. 
 
 ACT THE FIRST. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 E^iter Gaveston, reading a letter fy^om the king. 
 Oav. My father is deceased / Come, Gaveston, 
 And share the kmgdom with thy dearest friend. 
 Ah I words that make me surfeit with delight 1 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 47 
 
 What greater bliss can hap to Gaveston, 
 
 Than live and be the favourite of a king ! 
 
 Sweet prince, I come ; these, these thy amorous lines 
 
 Might have enforced me to have swum from France, 
 
 Ami like Leander, gasped upon the sand, 
 
 So thou would'st smile, and take me in thine arms. 
 
 The sight of Loudon to my exiled eyes 
 
 Is as Elysium to a 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. | 
 
 What need the arctic people love starlight, 
 
 To whom the sun shines both by day and night ? 
 
 Farewell base stooping to the lordly peers ! 
 
 My knee shall bow to none bat to the king. \ 
 
 As for the multitude, tiiey are but sparks, \ 
 
 Raked u]) in embers of their poverty — \ 
 
 Tanti ; I'll fawn first on the wind \ 
 
 That glanceth at my lips, and flieth away \ 
 
 But how now, what are these ? 
 
 Enter three poor Men. ' 
 
 Men. Such as desire your worship's service. 
 
 Gav. What canst thou do ? ; 
 
 1 Man. I can ride. ; 
 Gav. But I have no horse. What art thou 1 
 
 2 Man. A traveller. 
 
 Gav. Let me see — thou would'st do well 
 To wait at my trencher, and tell me lies at dinner- 
 time ; 
 And as 1 like your discoursing, Fll have you. 
 And what art thou ? 
 
 8 Man. A soldier, that hath served against the Scot. 
 
48 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Gav. Why, there are hospitals for such as you ; 
 I have no war ; and therefore, sir, be gone. 
 
 3 Man. Farewell, and perish by a soldier's hand, 
 That would'st reward them with au hospital. 
 
 Gav. Aye, aye, these words of his move me as much 
 As if a goose would play the porcupine, 
 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 viewed my lord the king ; 
 If I speed well, I'll entertain you all. 
 
 Omnes. We thank your worship. 
 
 Gav. I have some business. Leave me to myself 
 
 Omnes. We will wait here about the court. [Exeunt. 
 
 Gav. Do ; these are not men for me ; 
 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 are his delight ; 
 Therefore I'll have Italian masks by night, 
 Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows ; 
 And in the day, when he shall walk abroad, 
 Like sylvan nym))hs my pages shall be clad ; 
 My men, like satyrs grazing on the lawns, 
 Shall with their goat-feet dance the antic hay ; 
 Sometimes a lovely boy in Diau'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, 
 To hide those parts which men delight to see, 
 Shall bathe him in a spring ; and there, hard by, 
 One like Actjeon, peeping through the grove, 
 Shall by the angry goddess be transform'd, 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 49 
 
 And running in the likeness of an hart, 
 By yelping hounds puH'd down, shall seem to die ; 
 Such things as these best please his majesty. 
 By'r lord ! here comes the king and the nobles 
 From the parliament, I'll stand aside. 
 
 Enter the King, LanoA8TEii, Mortii\ieh, senior. 
 MoRTiMEK, junior, Edmund Earl of Kent, Guy 
 Earl of Warwick, dc. 
 
 Edw. Lancaster ! 
 
 Lan. My lord. 
 
 Gav. That Earl of Lancaster do I abhor. {Aside. 
 
 Edw. Will you not grant me this ? \vl spite of them 
 I'll have my will ; and these two Mortimers, 
 That cross me thus, shall know I am disjjleased. 
 
 E. Mor. If you love us, my lord, hate Gaveston. 
 
 Gav. That villain Mortimer, I'll be his death ! 
 
 \_Aslde. 
 
 Y. Mor. Mine uncle here, this earl, and I myself, 
 Were sworn unto your father at his death, 
 That lie should ne'er return into the realm : 
 And know, my lord, ere I will break my oath. 
 This sword of mine, that should offend your foes, 
 Shall sleep within the scabbard at thy need, 
 And underneath thy banners march who will, 
 For Mortimer will hang his armour up. 
 
 Qav. Mort Dim ! {Aside. 
 
 Edw. Well, Mortimer, 111 make thee rue these 
 words. 
 Beseems it thee to contradict thy king ? 
 Frown'st thou thereat, aspiring Lancaster ? 
 The sword shall plane the farrows of thy brows. 
 And hew these knees that now arc grown so stiff. 
 
50 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 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 
 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 sliall stay within the realm ; 
 Therefore, if he be come, expel him straight. 
 
 Edw. 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 Piercy of the North, being highly moved, 
 Braved Moubery in presence of the king ; 
 For which, had not his highness loved him well, 
 He should liave lost his head ; but with his look 
 The undaunted spirit of Piercy was appeased, 
 And Moubery and he were reconciled. 
 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. Oh, our heads ! [grant. — 
 
 Edw. Aye, yours ; and therefore I would wish you 
 
 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 brainsick king, 
 And henceforth parley with our naked swords. 
 
 E. Mor. Wiltshire hath men enough to save our 
 heads. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 51 
 
 War. All Warwickshire will leave him for my sake. 
 
 Lan. And northward Lancaster hath many friends. 
 Adieu, my lord ; and either change your mind, 
 Or look to see tlie throne, wliere you should sit, 
 To float in blood ; and at thy wanton liead, 
 The glozing head of thy base minion thrown. 
 
 \^Exeunt Nobles. 
 
 Edw. I cannot brook these haughty menaces ; 
 Am I a king, and must be over-ruled ? 
 Brother, display my ensigns in the field ; 
 I'll bandy witli the barons and the earls, 
 And either die or live with Gaveston. 
 
 Gav. I can no longer keep me from my lord. 
 
 [Comes forward. 
 
 Edw. What, Gaveston ! welcome — Kiss not my 
 hand — 
 Embrace me, Gaveston, as I do thee. 
 Why should'st thou kneel ? know'st thou not who I 
 
 am? 
 Thy friend, thyself, another Gaveston ! 
 Not Hylas was more mourned of Hercules, 
 Than thou hast been of me since thy exile. 
 
 Gav. And since I went from hence, no soul in hell 
 Hath felt more torment than poor Gaveston. 
 
 Edw. I know it — Brother, welcome home my friend. 
 Now let the treacherous Mortimers conspire, 
 And that high-minded Earl of Lancaster ; 
 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, 
 Earl of Cornwall, King and Lord of Man. 
 
 Gav. My lord, these titles far exceed my worth. 
 
52 EDWARD THE SECOND, 
 
 Kent. Brother, the least of these may well suffice \ 
 
 For one of greater birth than Gaveston. 
 
 Edio. Cease, brother : for I cannot brook these words. 
 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 pleased with kingly regiment. 
 Fear'st thou thy person ? thou shalt have a guard. 
 Wantest thou gold ? go to my treasury. 
 Wouldst thou be loved and feared ? receive my seals : 
 Save or condemn, and in our name command 
 Whatso thy mind aftects, or fancy likes. 
 
 Gav. It shall suffice me to enjoy your love, 
 Which, whiles I have, I think myself as great 
 As Csesar riding in the Roman street, 
 With captive kings at his triumphant car. 
 
 Enter the Bishop of Coventuy. 
 
 Edw. Whither goes my lord of Coventry so fast ? 
 
 Bish. To celebrate your father's exequies. 
 But is that wicked Gaveston returned ? 
 
 Edw. Aye, priest, and lives to be revenged on thee, 
 That wert the only cause of his exile. 
 
 Gav. 'Tis true ; and but for reverence of these robes. 
 Thou should'st not plod one foot beyond this place. 
 
 Bish. I did no more than I was bound to do ; 
 And, Gaveston, unless thou be reclaimed, 
 As then I did incense the parliament. 
 So will I now, and thou shalt back to France. 
 
 Gav. Saving your reverence, you must pardon me. 
 
 Edw. Throw off his golden mitre, rend his stole, 
 And in the channel christen him anew. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Kent. All, brother, lay not violent hands on him, 
 For he'll complain unto the see of Rome. 
 
 Gav. Let him complain unto the see of hell, 
 I'll be revenged on him for my exile. 
 
 Eicd. 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 : 
 I give him thee — here, use him as thou wilt. 
 
 Gav. He shall to prison, and there die in bolts. 
 
 Edio. Aye, to the Tower, the Fleet, or where thou 
 wilt. 
 
 Bisli. For this offence, be thou accurst of God ! 
 
 Edw. Who's there ? Convey this priest to the 
 Tower. 
 
 Bish. True, true. 
 
 Edw. But in the meantime, 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. 
 
 Gav. What should a priest do with so fair a house ? 
 A prison may best beseem his holiness. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. 
 Enter both the, Mortimers, Warwick, and Lancaster. 
 War. 'Tis true, the bishop is in the Tower, 
 And goods and body given to Gaveston. 
 
 Lan. What ! will they tyrannise upon the church ? 
 Ah, wicked king ! accursed Gaveston ! 
 This ground, which is corrupted with their steps. 
 Shall be their timeless sepulchre or mine. 
 
 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 Lancaster ? 
 
54 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Y. Mor. Wherefore is Guy of "Warwick discontent ? 
 
 Lan. That villain Gaveston is made an earl, 
 
 E. Mor. An earl ! [realm, 
 
 War. A.JQ, and besides Lord Chamberlain of the 
 And Secretary too, and Lord of Man. 
 
 E. Afor. We may not, nor we will not suffer this. 
 
 Y. Mor. Why post we not from hence to levy men ? 
 
 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, artn-in-arm, the king and he doth march : 
 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 ? 
 
 Lan. All stomach him, but none dare speak a word. 
 
 Y. Mor. A.JQ, that bewrays their baseness, Lan- 
 caster. 
 Were all the earls and barons of my mind, 
 We'd hale him from the bosom of the king. 
 And at the court-gate hang the peasant up ; 
 Who, swoln with venom of ambitious pride, 
 Will be the ruin of the realm and us. 
 
 Enter the Archbishop of Canterbury, and a Messenger. 
 
 War. Here comes my Lord of Canterbury's grace. 
 Lan. His countenance bewrays he is displeased. 
 Archbish. First were his sacred garments rent and 
 torn. 
 Then laid they violent hands upon him ; next 
 Himself imprisoned, and his goods asseized : 
 This certify the pope — away, take horse. 
 
 [Exit Messenger. 
 
Edward the second. 55 
 
 Lan. My lord, will you take arms against the king ? 
 Archbish. What need I ? God himself is up in arms, 
 When violence is oflered to the church. 
 
 Y. Mor. Then will you join with us, that be his 
 peers, 
 To banish or behead that Gaveston ? 
 Archbish. AVhat else, my lords ? for it concerns me 
 near — 
 The bishoprick of Coventry is his. 
 
 Enter Queen Isabella. 
 
 Y. Mor. Madam, whither walks your majesty so 
 fast? 
 
 Queen. Unto the forest, gentle Mortimer, 
 To live in grief and baleful discontent ; 
 For now, my lord, the king regards me not, 
 But doats upon the love o[' Gaveston. 
 He claps his cheek, and hangs about his neck, 
 Smiles in his face, and whispers in his ears ; 
 And when I come he frowns, as who should say, 
 " Go whither thou wilt, seeing I have Gaveston." 
 
 E. Mor. Is it not strange, that he is thus bewitched ? 
 
 Y, Mor. Madam, return unto the court again : 
 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 revenged at full. [king. 
 
 Archbish. But yet lift not your swords against the 
 
 Lan. No ; but we will lift Gaveston from hence. 
 
 War, And war must be the means, or he'll stay still. 
 
 Queen. Thau let him stay ; for rather than my lord 
 Shall be oppressed with civil mutinies, 
 I will endure a melancholy life. 
 And let him frolic with his minion. 
 
56 EDWARD THE SECOND, 
 
 Archhish, My lords, to ease all this, but hear me 
 speak : — 
 We and the rest, that are his counsellors. 
 Will meet, and witli a general consent 
 Confirm his banishment with our hands and seals. 
 
 Lan. What we confirm the king will frustrate, 
 
 Y. Mo7\ Then may we lawfully revolt from him. 
 
 War. But say, my h)rd, where shall this meeting be ? 
 
 Archhish. At the New Temple. 
 
 Y. Mor. Content. 
 
 Archhish. And, in the meantime, I'll entreat you all 
 To cross to Lambeth, and there stay with me. 
 
 Lan. Come then, let's away. 
 
 Y. Mor. Madam, farewell ! 
 
 Queen. Farewell, sAveet Mortimer ; and, for my sake, 
 Forbear to levy arras against the king. 
 
 Y. Mor. Aye, if words will serve, if not, I. must. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene III. 
 
 Enter Gaveston and the Earl of 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 London — there let them remain. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Scene IV. 
 
 Enter Nobles, and the Archblshop of Canterbury. 
 
 Lan. Here is the form of Gaveston's exile : 
 May it please your lordship to subscribe your name. 
 Archhish., Give me the paper. 
 
 [He subscribes, as the others do after him. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 57 
 
 Lan. Quick, quick, my lord ; I long to write my 
 
 name. 
 War. But I long more to see him banislied hence. 
 Y. Mor. The name of Mortimer shall fright the 
 king, 
 Unless he be declined from that base peasant. 
 
 Enter the King, Gaveston, and Kent. 
 
 Eclw. AVhat, are you moved that Gaveston sits here ? 
 It is our pleasure, and we will have it so, 
 
 Lan. Your grace doth well to place him by your 
 side, 
 For nowhere else the new earl is so safe. 
 
 E. Mor. What man of noble birth can brook this 
 sight? 
 Qiiam male convcnhmt! 
 See what a scornful look the peasant casts ! 
 
 Pern. Can kingly lions fawn on creeping ants ? 
 
 War. Ignoble vassal, that like Phfeton 
 Aspir'st unto the guidance of the sun. 
 
 Y. Mor. Their downfall is at hand, their forces 
 down : 
 We will not thus be faced and over-peered. 
 
 Edio. Lay hands on that traitor Mortimer ! 
 
 Y. 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. 
 
 Edw. Whither will you bear him ? Stay, or ye 
 shall die. 
 
 E. Mor. We are no traitors ; therefore threaten not. 
 
 Gav. No, threaten not, my lord, but pay them 
 home ! 
 Were I a kiug 
 
58 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Y. Mor. Thou villain, wherefore talk'st thou of a 
 king, 
 That hardly art a gentleman by birth ? 
 
 Edw. Were he a peasant, being my minion, 
 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. Mor. And with the Earl of Kent that favours liim. 
 [Attendants remove Kent and Gaveston. 
 
 Edw. Nay, then, lay violent hands upon your king. 
 Here, Mort.imer, sit thou in Edward's throne : 
 Warwick and Lancaster, wear you my crown : 
 Was ever king thus over-ruled as I ? 
 
 Lan. Learn then to rule us better, and the realm. 
 
 Y. Mor. What we have done, our heart blood shall 
 maintain. 
 
 War. Think you that we can brook this upstart 
 pride ? 
 
 Edio. Anger and wrathful fury stops my speech. 
 
 Archhish. Why are you moved ? be patient, my lord, 
 And see what we your counsellors have done. 
 
 Y, Mor. My lords, now let us all be resolute, 
 And either have our wills or lose our lives. 
 
 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. 
 
 Archhish. You know that I am legate to the pope ; 
 On your allegiance to the see of Rome, 
 Subsciibe, as we have done, to his exile. 
 
 Y. Mor. Curse him, if he refuse ; and then may we 
 Depose him and elect another king. 
 
 Edw. Aye, there it goes — but yet I will not yield. 
 Curse me, depose me, do the worst you can. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 59 
 
 Lan. Tlien linger not, my lord, but do it straight. 
 
 ArchUsh. Remember how the bishop was abused ! 
 Either banish him that was the cause thereof, 
 Or I will presently discharge these lords 
 Of duty and allegiance due to thee, 
 
 Edw. It boots me not to threat — I must speak fair : 
 
 [Aside. 
 The legate of the pope will be obeyed. 
 My lord, you shall be Chancellor of the realm ; 
 Thou, Lancaster, High Admiral of the 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, 
 And share it equally amongst you all, 
 So I may have some nook or corner left, 
 To frolic with my dearest Gaveston. 
 
 Archhish. Nothing shall alter us — we are resolved. 
 
 Lan. Come, come, subscribe. 
 
 Y. Mor. Why should you love him whom the 
 world hates so ? 
 
 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 are noble-born should pity him. 
 
 War. You that are princely-born should shake 
 him off: 
 For shame, subscribe, and let the lown depart. 
 
 E. Mor. Urge him, ray lord. 
 
 Archbish. Are you content to banish him the 
 realm ? 
 
 Edw. I see I must, and therefore am content : 
 Instead of ink, I'll write it with my tears. [Subscribee. 
 
 Y. Mor. The king is love-sick for his minion. 
 
6o EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Edw. 'Tis done : and now, accursed hand, fall 
 off! 
 
 Lan, Give it me : I'll have it published in the 
 streets. 
 
 Y. Mor. I'll see him presently despatched away. 
 
 Archhish. Now is my heart at ease. 
 
 War. And so is mine. 
 
 Pern. This will be good news to the common sort. 
 
 K Mor. Be it or no, he shall not linger here. 
 
 [Exeunt all except King Edward. 
 
 Edio. How fast they run to banish him I love ! 
 They would not stir, were it to do me good. 
 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 
 The papal towers to kiss tlie lowly ground ! 
 With slaughtered priests make Tiber's channel swell, 
 And banks rise higher with their sepulchres ! 
 As for the peers, that back the clergy thus, 
 If I be king, not one of them shall live. 
 
 Re-enter Gaveston. 
 
 Gav. My lord, I hear it whispered every where 
 That I am banished, and must fly the land. 
 
 Edw. 'Tis true, sweet Gaveston : Oh, were it false 
 The legate of the Pope will have it so. 
 And thou must hence, or I shall be deposed, 
 But I will reign to be revenged 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. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 6i 
 
 Gav. Is all my hope turned to this hell of gi icf ? 
 
 Ediv. Rend not my heart with thy too-piercing 
 words : 
 Thou from this land, I from myself am banished. 
 
 Gav. To go from hence grieves not poor Gaveston ; 
 But to forsake you, in whose gracious looks 
 The blessedness of Gaveston remains ; 
 For nowhere else seeks he felicity. 
 
 Ediv. And only this torments my wretched soul, 
 That, whether I will or no, thou must depart. 
 Be governor of Ireland in my stead. 
 And there abide till fortune call thee home. 
 Here, take my picture, and let me wear thine : 
 
 \_Thcy excliangr. incturcs. 
 
 0, 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. 
 
 Ediv. Thou shalt not hence — I'll hide thee, 
 Gaveston. 
 
 Gav. I shall be found, and then 'twill grieve me 
 more. 
 
 Edio. Kind words, and mutual talk makes our grief 
 greater ; 
 Therefore, with dumb embracement, let us part — 
 Stay, Gaveston, I cannot leave thee thus. 
 
 Gav. For every look, my love drops down a tear : 
 Seeing I must go, do not renew my sorrow. 
 
 Edio. The time is little that thou hast to stay. 
 And, therefore, give me leave to look my fill ; 
 But come, sweet friend, I'll bear thee on thy way. 
 
 Gav. The peers will frown. 
 
 Edw. I pass not for their anger — Come, let's go ; 
 that we might as well return as go. 
 
62 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Enter Kent and Queen Isabel. 
 
 Queen. Whither goes my lord ? 
 
 Edw. Fawn not on me, French strumpet ! get thee 
 gone. 
 
 Queen. On whom but on my husband should I 
 fawn ? 
 
 Gav. On Mortimer ! with whom, uncjentle queen — 
 I say no more — ^judge you the rest, my lord. 
 
 Queen. In saying this, thou wrong'st me, Gavestou ; 
 Is't not enougli that thou corrupt'st my lord, 
 And art a bawd to Ids affections, 
 But thou must call mine honour thus in question ? 
 
 Gav. I mean not so ; your grace must pardon me. 
 
 Edw. Thou art too familiar with that Mortimer, 
 And b}'' thy means is Gaveston exiled ; 
 But I would wish thee reconcile the lords, 
 Or thou shalt ne'er be reconciled to me. 
 
 Queen. Your highness knows it lies not in my power. 
 
 Edw. Away, then ! touch me not — Come, Gaveston. 
 
 Queen. Villain ! 'tis thou that robb'st me of my 
 lord. 
 
 GaA\ Madam, 'tis you that rob me of my lord. 
 
 Edw. Speak not unto her ; let her droop and pine. 
 
 Queen. Wherein, my lord, have I deserved these 
 words ? 
 Witness the tears that Isabella sheds. 
 Witness this heart, that, sigliing for thee, breaks, 
 How dear my lord is to poor Isabel, 
 
 Edw. And witness heaven how dear thou art to me ! 
 There weep ; for till my Gaveston be repealed, 
 Assure thyself thou com'st not in my sight. 
 
 [Ei-eunt Edward and Gaveston. 
 
 Queen. miserable and distressed queen ! 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 63 
 
 Would, when I left sweet France and was embarked, 
 
 That charming Circe, walking on the waves, 
 
 Had changed my shape, or that the marriage-day 
 
 The cup of Hymen had been full of poison. 
 
 Or witli those arms that twined about my neck 
 
 I had been stifled, and not lived to see 
 
 The king my lord thus to abandon me ! 
 
 Like frantic Juno will I lill the earth 
 
 With ghastly murmur of my sighs and cries ; 
 
 For never doated Jove on Ganymede 
 
 So much as he on cui'sed 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 doat on Gaveston : 
 
 And so am I for ever miserable. 
 
 Enter the Nobles. 
 
 Lan. Look where the sister of the king of Franco 
 Sits wringing of her hands and beats her breast ! 
 
 War. The king, I fear, liath ill-entreated her. 
 
 Pern. Hard is the heart that injures such a saint. 
 
 Y. Mor. I know 'tis 'long of Gaveston she weeps. 
 
 E. Mor. Why, he is gone. 
 
 Y. Mor, Madam, how fares your grace ? 
 
 Queen. 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. 
 
 Queen. No, rather will I die a thousand deaths ; 
 And yet I love in vain — he'll ne'er love me. 
 
 La7i. Fear ye not, madam ; now liis minion's gone 
 His wanton humour will be quickly left. 
 
64 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Queen. Oh, never, Lancaster ! I am enjoined 
 To sue upon you all for his repeal ; 
 This wills my lord, and this must I perform, 
 Or else be banished from his highness' presence. 
 
 Lan. For his repeal, madam ! he comes not back, 
 Unless the sea cast up his shipwrecked body. 
 
 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 liiin 
 home ? 
 
 Queen. Aye, Mortimer, for till he be restored, 
 The angry king hath banished me the court ; 
 And, therefore, as thou lov'st and tender'st me, 
 He thou ray advocate upon the peers, 
 
 Y. Mor. What ! would you have me plead for 
 Gaveston ? 
 
 E. Mor. Plead for him that will, I am resolved. 
 
 Lan. And so am I, my lord ! dissuade the queen. 
 
 Queen. Lancaster ! let him dissuade the king. 
 For 'tis against my will he should return. 
 
 War. Then speak not for him, let the peasant go. 
 
 Queen. 'Tis for myself I speak, and not for him. 
 
 Pern. No speaking will prevail, and therefore cease. 
 
 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 Lish seas. 
 
 Queen. Sweet Mortimer, sit down by me awhile. 
 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. 
 
 Queen. Then thus, but none shall hear it but our- 
 selves. 
 
 [Talks to Y. Moil, apart. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 65 
 
 Lan. My lords, albeit the queen win Mortimer, 
 Will you be resolute, and liold with me ? 
 
 E. Mor. Not I, against my nephew. 
 
 Pern. Fear not, the queen's words cannot alter him. 
 
 War. No, do but mark how earnestly she pleads. 
 
 Lan. And see how coldly his looks make denial. 
 
 War. She smiles, now for my life his mind is 
 changed. 
 
 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, 
 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 ? 
 And is this true, to call him home again ? 
 Such reasons made white black, and dark night day. 
 
 Y. Mor. My lord of Lancaster, mark the respect. 
 
 Lan. In no respect can contraries be true. 
 
 Queen. Yet, good my lord, hear wliat he can allege. 
 
 War. All that he speaks is nothing, we are resolved. 
 
 Y. Mor. Do you not wish that Gaveston were dead ? 
 
 Pern. I would he were. [.speak. 
 
 Y. Mor. Why then, my lord, give me but leave to 
 
 E. Mor. But, nephew, do not play the sophister. 
 
 Y. Mor. This which I urge is of a burning zeal 
 To mend the king, and do our country good. 
 Know you not Gaveston hath store of gold, 
 Wliich may in Ireland purchase him such friends, 
 As he will front the mightiest of us all ? 
 And whereas he shall live and be beloved, 
 'Tis hard for us to work his overthrow. 
 
 (E) 
 
66 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 War. Mark you but that, my lord of Lancaster. 
 
 Y. Mor. But were he here, detested as he is, 
 How eas'ly might some base slave be suborned 
 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 ? 
 
 Pern. He saith true. 
 
 Lan. Aye, 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, 
 'Twill make him vail the top-flag of his pride, 
 And fear to offend tlie 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, 
 'Tis treason to be up against the king ; 
 So we shall liave the people of our side, 
 Which for his father's sake lean to the king, 
 But cannot brook a night-grown mushroom, 
 Such a one as my lord of Cornwall is, 
 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. 
 Think me as base a groom as Gaveston. 
 
 Lan. On that condition, Lancaster will grant. 
 
 War. And so will Pembroke and L 
 
 E. Mor. And I, 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 67 
 
 Y. Mor. In this I count me highly gratified, 
 And Mortimer will rest at your commaud. 
 
 Queen. And when tliis favour Isabel forgets, 
 Then let her live abandoned 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 
 Then he can Gaveston ; would he loved me 
 But half so much, then were I treble-blessed ! 
 
 Enter King Edward, mourning. 
 
 Edw, He's gone, and for his absence thus I mourn. 
 Did never sorrow go so near my heart, 
 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 gained, having bought so dear a friend. 
 
 Queen. Hark ! how he harps upon his minion. 
 
 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, 
 And with my kingly sceptre struck me dead, 
 "When I was forced to leave my Gaveston ! 
 
 Lan. Diablo ! wliat passions call you these ? 
 
 Queen. My gracious lord, I come to bring you new? 
 
 Edio. That you have parled with your Mortimer ? 
 
 Queen. That Gaveston, my lord, shall be repealed. 
 
 Edw. Repealed ! the news is too sweet to be true ! 
 
 Queen. But will you love me, if you find it so ? 
 
 Edw. If it be so, what will not Edward do ? 
 
 Queen. For Gaveston, but not for Isabel. 
 
68 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Edw. For thee, fair queen, if thou lov'st Gaveston, 
 I'll hang a golden tongue about thy neck, 
 Seeing thou hast pleaded with so good success. 
 
 Queen. 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 — 
 
 how a kiss revives poor Isabel ! 
 
 Edw. Once more receive my hand ; and let this be 
 A second marriage 'twixt thyself and me. 
 
 Queen. And may it prove more happy than the 
 first ! 
 My gentle lord, bespeak these nobles fair, 
 That wait attendance for a gracious look, 
 And on their knees salute your majesty. 
 
 Edw. Courageous Lancaster, embrace thy king ; 
 And, as gross vapours perish by the sun. 
 Even so let hatred with thy sovereign's smile. 
 Live thou with me as my companion. 
 
 Lan. This salutation overjoys my heart. 
 
 Edw. Warwick shall be my chiefest counsellor : 
 These silver hairs will more adorn my court 
 Than gaudy silks, or rich embroidery. 
 Chide me, sweet Warwick, if I go astray. 
 
 War. Slay me, my lord, when I offend your grace. 
 
 Edw. In solemn triumphs, and in public shows, 
 Pembroke shall bear the sword before tlie king. 
 
 Pern. And with this sword Pembroke will fight for 
 you. 
 
 Edw. But wherefore walks young Mortimer aside ? 
 Be thou commander of our royal fleet ; 
 Or if that lofty office like thee not, 
 
 1 make thee here Lord Marslial of the realm. 
 
 Y. Mor. My lord, I'll marshal so your enemies, 
 As England shall be quiet, and you safe. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 69 
 
 Edw. And as for you, Lord Mortimer of Chirke, 
 Whose great achievements in our foreign war 
 Deserve no common place, nor mean reward ; 
 Be you the general of the levied troops, 
 That now are ready to assail the Scots. [me, 
 
 E. Mor. In this your grace hath highly honoured 
 For with my nature war doth best agree. 
 
 Queen. Now is the king of England rich and strong. 
 Having the love of his renownM peers. 
 
 Edw. Aye, 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. 
 
 Bea. It shall be done, my gracious lord. 
 
 Edto. Lord Mortimer, we leave you to your charge. 
 Kow let us in, and feast it royally. 
 Against our friend the Earl of Cornwall comes 
 We'll have a general tilt and tournament ; 
 And then his marriage shall be solemnised. 
 For wot you not that I have made him sure 
 Unto our cousin, the Earl of Gloucester's heir ? 
 
 Lan. Such news we hear, my lord. 
 
 Edw. That day, if not for him, yet for my sake, 
 Who in the triumph will be challenger. 
 Spare for no cost ; we will requite your love. 
 
 War. In this, or aught your highness shall command 
 us. 
 
 Edw. Thanks, gentle Warwick : come, let's in and 
 revel. [Exeunt. Manent the Mortimers. 
 
 E. Mor. Nephew, I must to Scotland ; thou stayest 
 here. 
 Leave now t' oppose thyself against the king : 
 Thou seest by nature he is mild and calm ; 
 
70 EDWARV THE SECOND. 
 
 And, seeing his mind so dotes on Gaveston, 
 Let liim without controlment have his will. 
 The mightiest kings have had their minions : 
 Great Alexander loved Hepheestion, 
 The conquering Hercules for his Hylas wept, 
 And for Patroclus stern Achilles drooped : 
 And not kings only, but the wisest men ; 
 The Roman Tully lov'd Octavius, 
 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, 
 
 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, 
 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, appeared. 
 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, 
 From out a window, laugli at such as we. 
 And flout our train, and jest at our attire. 
 Uncle, 'tis this makes me impatient. 
 E. Mor. But, nephew, now you see the king is 
 
 changed. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 71 
 
 Y. Mor. Then so am I, and live to do him service : 
 But whilst I have a sword, a hand, a heart, 
 I will not yield to any such upstart. 
 You know my mind ; come, uncle, let's away. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 ACT THE SECOND 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 Enter Young SrENCER and Baldock. 
 
 Bald. Spencer, 
 Seeing that our lord the Earl of Gloucester'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, 
 l^aldock, learn this of m-e, 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 
 On whose good fortune Spencer's hope depends." 
 
 Bald. What, mean you then to be his ioUower? 
 
 Y. Spen. No, his companion ; for he loves me 
 well, 
 And would have once preferred me to tlie king. 
 
 Bald. But he is banished ; there's small hope of 
 him. 
 
 Y. Spen. Aye, for a while ; but Baldock, mark the 
 end. 
 A friend of mine told me in seciecy 
 That he's repealed, and sent for back again ; 
 And even now a post came from the court 
 With letters to our lady from the king ; 
 
72 EDWARD THE SECOND, 
 
 And as she read she smiled, which makes me think 
 It is about her lover Gaveston. 
 
 Bald. 'Tis like enough ; for since he was exiled 
 She neither walks abroad, nor comes in sight. 
 But I had thought the match had been broke off, 
 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 preferred. 
 Having read unto her since she was a child. [olf, 
 
 Y. iSpen. Then, Baldock, you must cast the scholar 
 And learn to court it like a gentleman. 
 'Tis not a black coat and a little band, 
 A velvet caped cloak, faced before with serge, 
 And smelling to a nosegay all the day, 
 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, " Trul}', an't may please your honour," 
 Can get you any favour with great men : 
 You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute, 
 And now and then stab, as occasion serves. 
 
 Bald. Spencer, thou know'st I hate such formal 
 toys. 
 And use them but of mere hypocrisy. 
 Mine old lord while he lived 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, 
 And apt for any kind of villainy, 
 I am none of these common pedants, I, 
 That cannot speak without propterea quod. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. Jz 
 
 Y. Spen. But one of those that saith, quandoquidem, 
 And hath a special gift to form a verb. 
 
 Bald. Leave off this jesting, here my lady conies. 
 
 Enter the Lady. 
 
 Lady. 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 ueed'st thou, love, thus to excuse thyself? 
 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 : 
 
 [Beads. 
 Hut stay thee here where Gaveston shall sleep. 
 'Now to tlie letter of my lord the king. — 
 He wills me to repair unto the court, 
 And meet my Gaveston ? why do I staj^, 
 Seeing that he talks thus of my marriage-day ? 
 Who's there ? Baldock ! 
 See that my coacli be ready, I must hence. 
 
 Bald. It shall be done, madam. [Exit. 
 
 Lady. And meet me at the park-pale presently. 
 Spencer, stay you and bear me company, 
 For I have joyful news to tell thee of ; 
 My lord of Cornwall is a coming over, 
 And will be at the court as soon as we. 
 
 ^2?en. I knew the king would have him homo again. 
 
 Lady. If all things sort out, as I hope they will, 
 Thy service, Spencer, shall be thought upon. 
 
 Speii. I luimbly tliank your ladyship. 
 
 Lady. Come, lead the way ; I long till I am th re. 
 
 [Excuni. 
 
74 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Enter Edward, tka Queen, Lancaster, Young 
 Mortimer, Warwick, Pembroke, Kent, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 Edw. The wind is good, I wonder why he stays ; 
 I fear me he is wrecked upon the sea. 
 
 Queen. Look, Lancaster, how passionate he is, 
 And still his mind runs on his minion ! 
 
 Lan. My lord. 
 
 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. 
 
 Edw. A trifle ! we'll expel him when we please. 
 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. 
 
 Edw. Pray thee let me know it. 
 
 Y. Mor. But, seeing you are so desirous, thus it is ; 
 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, JSque tandem. 
 
 Edw. And what is yours, my lord of Lancaster ? 
 
 Lan. My lord, mine's more obscure than Mortimer's. 
 Pliny reports there is a flying fish 
 Which all the other fishes deadly hate, 
 And therefore, being pursued, it takes the air ; 
 No sooner is it up, but there's a fowl 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 75 
 
 Tliat seizeth it : this fish, my lord, I bear, 
 Tiie motto this : Undique mors est. 
 
 Kent. Proud Mortimer ! ungentle Lancaster ! 
 Is tliis the love you bear your sovereign ? 
 Is this the fruit your reconcilement bears ? 
 Can you in words make show of amity. 
 And in your shields display your rancorous minds ? 
 "VVliat call you this but private libelling 
 Against the Earl of Cornwall and my brother ? 
 
 Queen. Sweet husband, be content, they all love 
 you. 
 
 Edw. They love me not that hate my Gaveston. 
 I am that cedar, shake me not too much ; j 
 
 And you the eagles ; soar ye ne'er so high, \ 
 
 I have the jesses that will pull ye down ; 1 
 
 And JEque tandem shall that canker cry ■ 
 
 Unto the proudest peer of Britainy. - 
 
 Thougli thou compar'st him to a flying fish, 
 And threatenest death whether he rise or fall, 
 'Tis not the hugest monster of the sea, '■, 
 
 Nor foulest harpy that shall swallow him. ' 
 
 Y. Mor. If in liis absence thus he favours him, 
 What will he do whenas he shall be present ? 
 
 Layi. That shall we see ; look where his lordship 
 comes, 
 
 Enter Gaveston. 
 
 Edw. My Gaveston ! welcome to Tynemouth ! wel- . 
 come to thy friend ! 
 Thy absence made me droop and pine away ; 
 For, as the lovers of fair Danae, 
 When she was locked up in a brazen tower, 
 Desired her more, and waxed outrageous, 
 So did it fare with me ; and now thy sight 
 
76 . EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 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 : 
 The shepherd nipt with biting winter's rage 
 Frolics not more to see the painted spring, 
 Than I do to behold your majesty. 
 
 Edw. Will none of you salute my Gaveston ? 
 
 Lan. Salute him ? yes ; welcome Lord Chamberlain ! 
 
 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 ? 
 
 Edw. Still will these earls and barons use me thus. 
 
 Gav. My lord, I cannot brook these injuries. 
 
 Queen. Ah me ! poor soul, when these begin to jar. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 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; 
 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. 
 
 Edw. Treason ! treason ! where's the traitor ? 
 
 Pern. Here ! here ! king : 
 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 mine aim. 
 
 [Offers to stab him. 
 
 Queen. Ah ! furious Mortimer, what hast tliou done ? 
 
 Y. Mor. No more than I would answer, were he 
 slain. [Exit Gaveston, ivUh Attendants. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 77 
 
 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 barred the court for Gaveston. 
 
 Lan. We'll hale him by the ears unto the block. 
 
 Edw. Look to your heads ; his is sure enough. 
 
 War. Look to your own crown, if you back him thus. 
 
 Kent. Warwick, these words do ill beseem thy yeai s, 
 
 Edw. Nay, all of them conspire to cross me thus ; 
 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 the King, Queen, and Kent. 
 
 War. Let's to our castles, for the king is moved. 
 
 Y. Mor. Moved may he be, and perish in his wrath ! 
 
 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. 
 
 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 PemlDroke takes. 
 
 Lan. And so doth Lancaster. 
 NoAv send our heralds to defy the king ; 
 And make the people swear to put him down. 
 
 E7iter Messenger. 
 
 Y. Mor. Letters ! from whence ? 
 il/ess. From Scotland, my lord. 
 
 [Giving letters to Mortimee. 
 Lan. Why, how now, cousin, how fare all our friends? 
 
78 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Y. Mor. My uncle's taken prisoner by the Scots. 
 
 Lan. We'll have him ransomed, man ; be of good 
 cheer. [pound. 
 
 Y. Mor. They rate his ransom at five thousand 
 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. 
 
 F. Mor. About it then, and we will follow you. 
 
 Lan. Be resolute and full of secrecy. 
 
 War. I warrant you. {Exit with Pembrokr. 
 
 Y. Mor. Cousin, and if he will not ransom him, 
 I'll thunder sucli a peal into his ears, 
 As never subject did unto his king. 
 
 Lan. Content, I'll bear my part — Holloa ! who's 
 there ? [Guard appears. 
 
 Enter Guard. 
 
 Y. Mor. Aye, marry, such a guard as this doth well. 
 
 Lan. Lead on the way. 
 
 Guard. Whitiier will your lordsliips ? 
 
 Y. Mor. AVhither else but to the king. 
 
 Guard. His highness is disposed 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 Edward and Kent. 
 
 Edw. How now ! 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. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 79 
 
 Edw. Then ransom him. 
 
 Lan. 'Twas in your wars ; you should ransom him. 
 
 Y. Mor. And you shall ransom him, or else 
 
 Kent. What ! Mortimer, you will not threaten him ? 
 
 Edio. Quiet yourself, you shall have the broad seal, 
 To gather for him thoroughout the realm. 
 
 Lan. Your minion Gaveston hath taught you this. S 
 
 Y. Mot. My lord, the family of the Mortimers \ 
 
 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. \ 
 
 Edw. Shall I still be haunted thus ! I 
 
 Y. 3tor. Nay, now you're here alone, I'll speak | 
 my mind. | 
 
 Lan. And so will I ; and then, my lord, farewell. \ 
 
 Y. Mor. The idle triumphs, masks, lascivious shows, ; 
 And prodigal gifts bestow'd on Gaveston, \ 
 
 Have drawn thy treasury dry, and made thee weak ; 
 The murmuring commons, overstretched, break. \ 
 
 Lan. Look for rebellion, look to be deposed : [ 
 
 Thy garrisons are beaten out of France, | 
 
 And, lame and poor, lie groaning at the gates ; [ 
 
 The wild Oneyl, with swarms of Irish kerns, | 
 
 Lives uncontrolled within the English pale ; 
 Unto the walls of York the Scots make road, 
 And, unresisted, diive away rich spoils. [seas, 
 
 Y. Mor. The haughty iJane commands the narrow 
 While in the harbour ride thy ships unrigged. 
 
 Lan. What foreign i^rince 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 alt forlorn. 
 
 Y. Mor. Thy court is naked, being bereft of those 
 That make a king seem glorious to the world — 
 
8o EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 I mean the peers, whom thou shouldst dearly love ; 
 Libels are cast against thee in the street ; 
 Ballads and rhymes made of thy overthrow. 
 
 Lan. The northern borderers, seeing their houses 
 burnt, 
 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, 
 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— 
 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 ? — 
 With a romhelow ! 
 
 Y. Mor. Wigmore shall fly, to set my uncle free. 
 
 Lan. And, when 'tis done, our swords shall purchase 
 more. 
 If you be mov'd, revenge it if you can : 
 Look next to see us with our ensigns spread. 
 
 [Exeunt Nobles. 
 
 Edw. My swelling heart for very anger breaks : 
 How oft have I been baited by these peers. 
 And dare not be revenged, for their power is great ! 
 Yet, shall the crowing of these cockerels 
 Affright a lion ? Edward, unfold thy paws, 
 And let their lives' blood slake thy fury's hunger. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 8i 
 
 If I be cruel and grow tyrannous, 
 
 Now let them thank themselves, and rue too late. 
 
 Kent. ]\Iy lord, I see your love for Gavestou 
 Will be the ruin of the realm and you, 
 For now the wrathful nobles threaten wars, 
 And therefore, brother, banish him for ever. 
 
 Edw. Art thou an enemy to my Gaveston ? 
 
 Kent. Aye, and it grieves me that I favoured him. 
 
 Edw. Traitor, begone ! whine thou with Mortimer. 
 
 Kent. So will I, rather than with Gaveston. 
 
 Edio. Out of my sight, and trouble me no more ! 
 
 Kent ISTo marvel though thou scorn thy noble poors, 
 When I, thy brother, am rejected thus. \_Ej:U. 
 
 Edw. Away ! 
 Poor Gaveston, that has no friend but me. 
 Do what they can, we'll live in Tynemouth here, 
 And, so I walk with him about the walls. 
 
 What care I though the Earls begirt us round 
 
 Here cometh she that's cause of all these jars. 
 
 Enter the Queen, with King's Niece, two Ladies, 
 Gaveston, Baldock, and Young Spencer. 
 
 Queen. My lord, 'tis thought the Earls are u[> in 
 
 arms. 
 Edw. Aye, and 'tis likewise thought you favour 
 
 them. 
 Queen. Tlius do you still suspect me without cause ? 
 Lady. Sweet uncle ! speak more kindly to the 
 
 queen. 
 Gav. My lord, dissemble with her, speak her fair. 
 Edw. Pardon me, sweet, I had forgot myself. 
 Queen. Your pardon is (quickly got of Isabel. 
 Edin. The younger Mortimer is grown so brave, 
 That to my face he threatens civil wars. 
 
82 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Gav. Why do you not commit him to the Tower ? 
 
 Edw. I dare not, for the people love him well. 
 
 Oav. Why, then, we'll have him privily made away. 
 
 Edw. Would Lancaster and he had both caroused 
 A bowl of poison to each other's health ! 
 But let them go, and tell me what are these ? 
 
 Lady. Two of my father's servants whilst he liv'd^ 
 May't please your grace to entertain them now ? 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 Edw. Knowest thou liim, Gaveston ? [allied ; 
 
 Gav. Aye, my lord ; his name is Spencer, he is well 
 For my sake, let him wait upon yonr grace ; 
 Scarce shall you find a man of more desert. 
 
 Edw. Then, Spencer, wait upon me ; for his sake 
 I'll grace thee with a higher style ere long. 
 
 Y. Spen. No greater titles happen unto me, 
 Than to be favoured of your majesty. 
 
 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 Gloucester late deceased. 
 
 Gav. I know, my lord, many will stomach me, 
 But I respect neither their love nor hate. 
 
 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, 
 Have at the rebels, and their 'complices ! 
 
 {ExeurU omnes. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND, 83 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 Enter Lancastee, Young Mortimer, Warwick, 
 Pembroke, and Kent. 
 
 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 belioof 
 Will be the first that shall adventure life. 
 
 Lan. I fear me you are sent of policy, 
 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. 
 
 Y. Mor. Stay, Edmund ; never was Plantagenet 
 False of his word, and therefore trust we thee. 
 
 Pern. But what's the reason you should leave him 
 now ? 
 
 Kent. I have informed the Earl of Lancaster. 
 
 Lan. And it sufficeth. Now, my lords, know tliis. 
 That Gaveston is secretly arrived, 
 And here in Tynemouth frolics with the king. 
 Let us with tliese our followers scale the walls, 
 And suddenly surprise them unawares. 
 
 Y. Mor. I'll give the onset. 
 
 War. And I'll follow thee. 
 
 Y. Mor. This tottered ensign of my ancestors, 
 Which swept the desert shore of that dead sea, 
 Whereof Ave got the name of Mortimer, 
 Will I advance upon this castle's walls. 
 Drums, strike alarum, raise them from their sport, 
 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. 
 
84 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 Enter the King and Spenoer, to them Gaveston, etc. 
 
 Edio. tell me, Spencer, where is Gaveston ? 
 Spell. I fear me, he is slain, my gracious lord. 
 Edw. No, here he comes ; now let them spoil ami 
 kill. 
 
 Enter Queen, King's Niece, Gaveston, and 
 Nobles. 
 
 Fly, fly, my lords, the earls have got the hold, 
 Take shipping and away to Scarborough, 
 Spencer and I will post away by land. 
 
 Gav. stay, my lord, they will not injure you. 
 
 Ediv. I will not trust them ; Gaveston, away ! 
 
 Gav. Farewell, my lord. 
 
 Edw. Lady, farewell. 
 
 Lady. Farewell, sweet uncle, till we meet again. 
 
 Edio. Farewell, sweet Gaveston ; and farewell, 
 niece. 
 
 Queen. No farewell to poor Isabel thy queen ? 
 
 Edw. Yes, yes, for Mortimer, your lover's sake. 
 
 [Exeunt all hut Isabel. 
 
 Queen. Heaven can witness I love none but you : 
 From my embracements thus he breaks away. 
 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, 
 Had power to mollify his stony heart, 
 That when I had him we might never part. 
 
 Enter the Barons. A larwins. 
 
 Lan. I wonder how he 'scaped ! 
 Y. Mor. Who's this, the queen ? 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 85 
 
 Queen. Aye, Mortimer, the miserable queen, 
 Whose pining heart her inward sighs have blasted, 
 And body with continual mourning wasted : 
 These hands are tired with haling of my lord 
 From Gaveston, from wicked Gaveston, 
 And all in vain ; for, when I speak liim fair, 
 He turns away, and smiles upon his minion. 
 
 Y. Mor. Cease to lament, and tell us where's the 
 king? 
 
 Queen. AVhat would you with the king ? is't him 
 you seek 1 
 
 Lan. No, madam, but that cursed Gaveston. 
 Far be it from the thought of Lancaster, 
 To olfer violence to his sovereign. 
 We would but rid the realm of Gaveston : 
 Tell us where he remains, and he shall die. 
 
 Queen. 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. 
 
 V. Mor. How comes it that the king and he is 
 parted ? 
 
 Queen. That thus your army, going several ways, 
 ]\Iight be of lesser force : and with the power 
 That he intendeth presently to raise. 
 Be easily suppressed ; therefore be gone. 
 
 Y. Mor. Here in the river rides a Flemish hoy ; 
 Let's all aboard, and follow him amain. 
 
 Lan. The wind that bears him hence will till our 
 sails : 
 Come, come aboard, 'tis but an hour's sailing. 
 
 Y. Mor. Madan), stay you witliin this castle here. 
 
 Queen. No, Mortimer, I'll to my lord the king. 
 
 Y. Mor. Nay, rather sail with us to Scarborough. 
 
86 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Queen. You know the king is so suspicious, 
 As if he hear I have but talked with you, 
 Mine honour will be called in question ; 
 And therefore, gentle Mortimer, be gone. 
 
 Y. Mor. I cannot stay to answer you, 
 But think of Mortimer as he deserves. 
 
 [Exeunt Barons. 
 
 Queen. So well hast thou deserved, sweet Mortimer, 
 As Isabel could live with thee for ever. 
 In vain I look for love at Edward's hand. 
 Whose eyes are fixed 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, 
 How Gaveston hath robbed me of his love : 
 But yet I hope my sorrows will have end, 
 And Gaveston this blessed day be slain. {Exit. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 Enter Gaveston, pursued. 
 
 Gav. Yet, lusty lords, I have escaped your hands, 
 Your threats, your 'larums, and your hot pursuits ; 
 And though divorced from King Edvv'ard's eyes, 
 Yet liveth Pierce of Gaveston unsurprised, 
 Breathing, in hope (malgrado all your beards, 
 That muster rebels thus against your king) 
 To see his royal sovereign once again. 
 
 Enter the Nobles. 
 
 TFar. Upon him, soldiers, take away his weapons. 
 Y. Mor. Thou proud disturber of thy country's 
 peace. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 87 
 
 Corrupter of thy king, cause of these broils, 
 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 th}'^ gore. 
 
 Lan. Monster of men ! 
 That, like the Greekish strumpet, trained to arms 
 And bloody wars so many valiant kniglits ; 
 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 
 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 lords ! 
 
 War. Soldiers, have him away ; 
 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 Earl of Arundel. 
 
 Lan. How now, my lord of Arundel ? 
 
 Arun. My lords, King Edward greets you all by me; 
 War. Arundel, say your message. 
 
 Arun. His majesty, hearing you had taken Gaveston, 
 Intreateth you by me, but that he may 
 See him before he dies ; for why, he says, 
 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. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 War. How now ? 
 
 Gav. Renown ki Edward, how tliy name 
 Revives poor Gaveston ! 
 
 Jl^ar. No, it needetli not ; 
 Arundel, Ave will gratify tlie king 
 In otlier matters ; lie 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, 
 Yet grant King Edward this. 
 
 Y. Mor, Sliall thou ajipoint 
 AVhat we shall grant ? Soldiers, away with him : 
 Thus we will gratify the king, 
 We'll send his head by thee ; let him bestow 
 His tears on that, for that is all he gets 
 or Gaveston, or else his senseless trunk. 
 
 Lan. Not so, my lords, lest ho bestow more cost 
 In burying him, than he hath ever earned. 
 
 Arun. My lords, it is his majesty's request. 
 And on the honour of a king he swears. 
 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 re-alm remits, 
 And drives his nobles to these exigents 
 For Gaveston, will, if he sees him once, 
 Violate any promise to possess him. 
 
 Arun. Then if you will not trust his graae in 
 keep. 
 My lords, I will be pledge for his return. 
 
 F. Mor. 'Tis honourable in thee to offer this ; 
 But for we know thou art a noble gentleman, 
 AVe will not wi'ong thcc so, to make away 
 A true man for a thief. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Gav. How mean'st thou, ]\Iortimer ? this is over- 
 base. 
 Y. Mor. Awa}'', base groom, robber of king's 
 renown, 
 Question with thy companions and mates, 
 
 Pcm. ;My Lord Mortimer, and you, my lords, each 
 one, 
 To gratify the king's request therein, 
 Toucliing the sending of this Gaveston, 
 ])ccause his majesty so earnestly 
 Desires to see the man before his death, 
 I will upon mine honour undertake 
 To carry him, and bring him back again ; 
 Trovided tliis, tliat you my lord of Arundel 
 AVill join with me. 
 
 War. Pembroke, what wilt thou do ? 
 Cause yet more bloodslied ? Is it not enough 
 That we liave taken him, but must we now 
 Leave him on " had I wist," and let him go ? 
 
 Pern. ]\Iy 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. 
 
 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. 
 Pcm. Then give him me. 
 Gav. Sweet sovereign, yet I come 
 To see th«e ere I die. 
 
 War. Not yet, perhaps. 
 If Warwick's wit and policy prevail. Aside. 
 
90 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Y. Mor. My lord of Pembroke, we deliver him to 
 you; 
 Return him on your honour. Sound, awa}'. 
 
 \_Exeunt all hut Pembroke, Arundel, 
 Gaveston, and Pembroke's men. 
 Pern. My lord [of Arundel], you shall go with me. 
 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 baulk their lips. 
 
 Arun. 'Tis very kindly spoke, my lord of Pembroke ; 
 Your honour hath an adamant of power 
 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 ! 
 Gav. Unhappy Gaveston, whither goest thou now ! 
 
 [Exittvith Pembroke's men. 
 Horse-boy. My lord, we'll quickly be at Cobham. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT THE THIRD. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 Enter Gaveston, mourning, and the Earl of 
 Pembroke's men. 
 
 Gav. 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, 
 Speed to the king. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 91 
 
 Enter "Warwick and his company. 
 
 War. My lord of Pembroke's men, 
 Strive you no more — I will have that Gaveston. 
 
 James. Your lordship doth dishonour to yourself, 
 And wron<;j our lord, your honourable friend. 
 
 War. Ko, James, it is my country's cause I follow. 
 Go, take the villain ; soldiers, come a^vay, 
 "We'll make quick work. Commend me to your 
 
 master, 
 My friend, and tell him that I watched it well. 
 Come, let thy shadow parley with King Edward. 
 
 Gav. Treacherous earl, shall I not see the kinc^ ? 
 
 War. Tlie king of heaven, perhaps, no other king. 
 Away ! [Exeunt "Warwick and his Men 
 
 with Gaveston. 
 James. Come, fellows, it booted not for us to strive, 
 "We will in haste go certify our lord. [^Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Enter King Edward and Young Spencer, Baldock, 
 and Nobles of the king's side, with drums and fifes. 
 
 Edw. I long to hear an answer from the barons, 
 Touching my friend, my dearest Gaveston. 
 Ah ! Spencer, not the riches of my realm 
 Can ransom him ! ah, he is marked to die ! 
 I know the malice of the younger Mortimer, 
 ■Warwick I know is rough, and Lancaster 
 Inexorable, and I shall never see 
 ^ly lovely Pierce of Gaveston again ! 
 The barons overbear me with their pride. 
 
 Y. Spen. "W'erel King Edward, England's sovereign. 
 Son to the lovely Eleanor of Spain, 
 
92 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Great Edward Longslianks' issue, would I bear 
 
 Tliese braves, this ra<^e, and sutler uncontrolled 
 
 These barons thus to beard me in my land, 
 
 In mine own realm ? ]\Iy lord, pardon my speech. 
 
 Did you retain your father's magnanimity, 
 
 Did you regard the honour of your name, 
 
 You would not suffer thus your majesty 
 
 he counterbuft of your nobility. 
 
 Strike off their heads ; and let them preach on poles I 
 
 No doubt, such lessons they will teach the rest, 
 
 As by their preachments they will profit much, 
 
 And learn obedience to their lawful king. 
 
 Edio. Yea, gentle Spencer, we have been too mild, 
 Too kind to them ; but now have drawn our sword, 
 And if they send me not my Gaveston, 
 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, 
 And must be awed and governed like a child. 
 
 Enter Hugh Spencer, /a^/ier to the Young SpenceRj 
 witlc his truncheon and Soldiers. 
 
 0. Spcn. Long live my sovereign, the noble Edward, 
 In peace triumphant, fortunate in wars ! 
 
 Edio. Welcome, old man, com'st thou in Edward's 
 aid? 
 Then tell thy prince of whence, and what thou art. 
 
 0. Sjicn. Lo, with a band of bowmen and of pikes, 
 ])rown bills and targeteers, four hundred strong, 
 Sworn to defend King Edwai^l's royal right, 
 I come in person to your majesty, 
 Spencer, the father of Hugh Spencer there, 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 93 
 
 Round to your highness everlastingly, 
 For favour done, in him, unto us all. 
 
 Edio. Thy father, Spencer? 
 
 Y. Spen. True, an it like your grace, 
 That pours, in lieu of all your goodness shown, 
 His life, my lord, before your ]»rincely feet. 
 
 Ediv. Welcome ten thousand times, old man, agaii 
 Spencer, this love, this kindness to thy king, 
 Argues thy noble mind and disposition. 
 Spencer, I here create thee Earl of Wiltshire, 
 And daily will enrich thee with our favour. 
 That, as the sunshine, shall reflect o'er thee. 
 Besides, the more to manifest our love, 
 Because we hear Lord Bruce doth sell his land, 
 And that the ]\Iortimers aie in hand withal. 
 Thou shalt have crowns of us t' outbid the barons ; 
 And, Spencer, spare thorn not, [but] lay it on. 
 Soldiers, a largess, and thrice welcome all ! 
 
 Y. Spen. My lord, here comes the (j^ueen. 
 
 Enter the Queen and her Son, and Lkvune, 
 a Frenchman. 
 
 Edio. Madam, what news ? 
 
 Queen. News of dishonour, lord, and discontent. 
 Our friend Levune, faithful and full of trust, 
 Informeth us, by letters and by words. 
 That Lord Valois our brotlier. King of Fi'ance, 
 Because your highness hath been slack in homage, 
 Hatii scizid Noimandy into his hands. 
 These be the letters, this the messenger. 
 
 Edw. Welcome, Levune. Tush, Sib, if this be al 
 Valois and I will soon be friends again. 
 But to my Gaveston : shall I never see, 
 Never behold thee more ? jMadam, in this matter 
 
94 EDWARD THE SECOND, 
 
 We will employ you and your little son ; 
 
 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. [weight 
 
 Prince. Commit not to my youth things of more 
 That fits a prince so young as I to bear, 
 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. 
 
 Queen, Ah, boy ! this toward ness makes thy mother 
 fear 
 Thou art not marked to many days on earth. 
 
 Edw. Madam, we will that you with speed be 
 sliijjped. 
 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. 
 
 Queen. 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 PuiNCE. 
 
 Enter Arundel. 
 
 Edw. What, Lord Arundel, dost thou come alone ? 
 
 Arun. Yea, my good lord, for Gaveston is dead. 
 
 Edw. All, traitors ! have they put my friend to 
 death ? 
 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 surprised, 
 Begirt with weapons and with enemies round, 
 I did your highness' message to them all ; 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 95 
 
 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. 
 
 Edw. And tell me, would the rebels deny me 
 that ? 
 
 Y. Spen. Proud recreants ! 
 
 Hdw. Yea, Spencer, traitors all. 
 
 Arun. I found them at first inexorable ; 
 The Earl of Warwick would not bide the hearing, 
 Mortimer hardly, Pembroke and Lancaster 
 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 returned, 
 I will this undertake to have him hence. 
 And see him re-delivered to your hands." ? 
 
 Edw. Well, and how fortunes [it] that he came \ 
 not ? ( 
 
 Y. Sjjen. Some treason, or some villainy was the 
 cause. 
 
 Arun. The Earl of Warwick seized him on his 
 way ; 
 For being delivered 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 marched unto the camp. 
 
 Y. Spen. A bloody part, flatly 'gainst law of 
 arms. 
 
 Edw. Oh shall I speak, or shall I sigh and die ! 
 
 Y. Spen. My lord, refer your vengeance to the sword 
 Upon these barons ; hearten up your men ; 
 
q6 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Let them not unrevenged murder your friends ! 
 Advance your standard, Edward, in tlie field, 
 And march to fire them from their starting holes, 
 
 [Edwaud kneels. 
 
 Edw. By earth, the common motlier of us all ! 
 By heaven, and all the moving orbs thereof ! 
 By this right hand ! and by my fatlier's sword ! 
 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. {Rlnes. 
 Treacherous Warwick ! traitorous Mortimer ! 
 If I be England's Idng, in lakes of gore 
 Your headless trunks, your bodies will I trail, 
 That you may drink your fill, and quaff in bloo 1, 
 And stain my royal standard with tlie same, 
 Tliat so my bloody colours may suggest 
 Remembrance of revenge immortally 
 On your accursed traitorous progeny, 
 You villains, that have slain my Gaveston ! 
 And in his place of honour and of trust, 
 Spencer, sweet Spencer, I adopt thee here ; 
 And merely of our love we do create thee 
 Earl of Gloucester, and Lord Chamberlain, 
 Despite of times, despite of enemies. 
 
 Y. Spcn. My lord, here's a messenger from tlio 
 barons 
 Desires access unto your majesty. 
 
 Edw. Admit him near. 
 
 Enter the HERALD/>'o»i the Barojis, with his coat ofarmi^. 
 
 Her. Long live King Edward, England's lawTul 
 
 lord ! 
 Edio. So wish not tliey I wis that sent thee liither. 
 Thou com'st from JMortiiner and his complices, 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 97 
 
 A ranker rout of rebels never was. 
 Well, say thy messaore. 
 
 Hpv. The barons up in arms, by me salute 
 Your hiijliness with lont,' life and hapjnness; 
 And bid me say, as plainer to your grace, 
 That if without elFusion of blood. 
 You will this grief have ease and remedy, 
 That from your princely person you remove 
 This Spencer, as a putrefying branch. 
 That deads the royal vine, whose golden leaves 
 Empale your princely head, your diadem, 
 Whose brightness such pernicious upstarts dim, 
 Say they ; and lovingly advise your grace, 
 To cherish virtue and nobility, 
 And have old servitors in high esteem. 
 And shake off suiooth dissembling flatterers : 
 This granted, they, their honours, and their lives, 
 Are to your highness vowed and consecrate. 
 
 Y. Spen. Ah, traitors ! will they still display their 
 pride ? 
 
 Edw. Away, tarry no answer, but be gone ! 
 Rebels, will they appoint their sovereign 
 His sports, his pleasures, and his company ? 
 Yet, ere thou go, see how I do divorce 
 
 {Embraces Spencer. 
 Spencer from me. — Now get tliee to thy lords, 
 And tell them I will come to ciiastise tlumi 
 For murtliering Gaveston ; hie thee, get thee gone ! 
 Edward with fire and sword follows at tliy heels. 
 ]\Iy lords, ))erceive 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. 
 (0) 
 
98 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 Enter the Kino, Old Spencer, Young Spencer, 
 and the Noblemen of the King's side. 
 
 Edvj. "Why do we sound retreat ? upon them, lords I 
 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. 
 
 0. Spen. 'Tis not amiss, my liege, for either part 
 To breathe awhile ; our men, with sweat and dust 
 All choked well near, begin to faint for heat ; 
 And this retire refresheth horse and man. 
 
 Y. Spen. Here come the rebels. 
 
 Enter the Barons, Mortimer, Lancaster, Warwick, 
 Pembroke, etc. 
 
 Y. Mor. Look, Lancaster, yonder is Edward among 
 
 his flatterers. 
 Lan. And there let him be 
 Till he pay dearly for their company. 
 
 War. And shall, or Warwick's sword shall smite in 
 
 vain. 
 Edw. What, rebels, do you shrink and sound 
 
 retreat ? 
 Y. Mor. No, Edward, no, thy flatterers faint and 
 
 fly. 
 Lan. They'd best betimes forsake thee, and their 
 
 trains, 
 For they'll betray thee, traitors as they are. 
 
 Y. Spen. Traitor on thy face, rebellious Lancaster ! 
 Pern. Away, base upstart, bravest thou nobles thus ? 
 0. Spen. A noble attempt and honourable deed, 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 99 
 
 Is it not, trow ye, to assemble aid, 
 
 And levy arms against your lawful king ! 
 
 Edio. For which ere long their heads shall satisfy, 
 To appease the wrath of their offended king. 
 
 Y. Mor. Then, Edward, thou wilt fight it to the last, 
 And rather bathe thy sword in subjects' blood. 
 Than banish that pernicious company ? 
 
 Edw. Aye, traitors, all, rather than thus be braved, 
 Make England's civil towns huge heaps of stones, 
 And ] (loughs to go about our palace-gates. 
 
 War. A desperate and unnatural resolution ! 
 Alarum ! — to the fight ! 
 St. George for England, and the barons' right. 
 
 Edw. St. George for England, and King Edward's 
 right. [Alarums. Exeunt. 
 
 Re-enter Edwaed and his followers, with the Barons 
 and Kent captives. 
 
 Edw. Now, lusty lords, now, not by chance of war, 
 But justice of the quarrel and the cause. 
 Tailed is your pride ; methinks you hang the heads, 
 But we'll advance them, traitors : now 'tis time 
 To be avenged on you for all your braves, 
 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. 
 Ah, rebels ! recreants ! you maile him away. 
 
 Kent. Brother, in regard of thee, and of thy land, 
 Did they remove that flatterer from tliy throne. 
 
 Edio. So, sir, you have spoke ; away, avoid our 
 presence ! {Exit Kent. 
 
 AccursM wretches, was't in regard of us. 
 When we had sent our messenger to request 
 He might be spared to come to speak with us, 
 
loo EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 And Pembroke undertook for his return, 
 That thou, proud Warwick, watclietl the prisoner, 
 Poor Pierce, and headed him 'guiiist law of arms ; 
 For which thy head shall overlook the rest, 
 As much as thou in rage outwent'st the rest. 
 
 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. 
 
 Edw. Away with them, my lord of Winchester ! 
 These lusty leaders, Warwick and Lancaster, 
 I cl large you roundly — off with both their heads ; 
 Away ! 
 
 War. Farewell, vain world ! 
 
 Lan. Sweet Mortimer, farewell ! 
 
 Y. Mor. England, unkind to thy nobility, 
 Groan for this grief, behold how thou art maimed ! 
 
 Edw. Go, take that haughty Mortimer to the 
 Tower, 
 There see him safe bestowed ; and for the rest, 
 Do speedy execution on them all. 
 Begone ! 
 
 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. 
 
 [llii captive Bakons are led off. 
 
 Edw. Sound drums and trumpets ! March ■with me, 
 my friends, 
 Edward this day hath crowned him king anew. 
 
 \_Exeunt all except Young Spencer, Levune, 
 and Baldock. 
 
 Y. Spen. Levune, the trust that we repose in thee 
 Begets the quiet of King Edward's land. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. loi 
 
 Therefore hefjone in liaste, and with advice 
 
 I'estow that treasiire on the lords of France, 
 
 That, tlieiewith all enchanted, like the guard 
 
 That sulTered 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. 
 
 Levune. That's it these barons and the subtle queen 
 Long levelled at. 
 
 Bnl. Yea, but, Levune, thou seest, 
 These barons lay their heads on blocks together ; 
 What they intend, the hangman frustrates clean. 
 
 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 t<'ars. 
 
 Y. Spm. Then make for France amain — Levune, 
 away ! 
 Proclaim King Edward's wars and victories. 
 
 [Exeunt omnes. 
 
 ACT THE FOURTH. 
 
 Scene L 
 
 Enter Kent, 
 
 Kent. Fair blows the wind for France j blow, gentle 
 gale. 
 Till Edmund be arrived for England's good I 
 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 ? 
 But I'll to France, and cheer the wronged queen, 
 
I02 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 And certify what Edward's looseness is. 
 Unnatural kino; \ to slaughter noble men 
 And cherish flatterers ! Mortimer, I stay 
 Thy sweet escape ; stand gracious, gloomy night, to 
 his device. 
 
 Enter Young Mortimer, disguised. 
 
 Y. Mor. Holloa ! 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. 
 But hath your grace got shipping unto Franco ? 
 
 Kent. Fear it not. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. 
 Filter the Queen and her Son. 
 
 Queen. Ah, boy ! our friends do fail us all in 
 France ; 
 The lords are cruel, and the king unkind ; 
 What shall we do ? 
 
 Prince. Madam, return to England, 
 And please my father well, and then a fig 
 For all my uncle's friendship here in France. 
 I warrant you, I'll win his iiigliness quickly ; 
 He loves me better than a thousand Spencers. 
 
 Queen. Ah, buy ! thou art deceived, at least in this, 
 To think tliat we can yet be tuned together ; 
 No. no, we jar too far. Unkind Valois ! 
 Unhappy Isabel ! when France rejects. 
 Whither, oh ! whither dost thou bend thy steps ? 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND, 103 
 
 Enter Sir John of Henault. 
 
 Sir J. Madam, what cheer? 
 
 Queen. Ah ! good Sir John of Henault, 
 Never so cheerless, nor so far distrest. 
 
 Sir J. I hear, sweet lady, of the king's unkindness ; 
 But droop not, madam, noble minds contenin 
 Despair : will your grace with me to Henault, 
 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 ? 
 
 Prince. So pleaseth 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 Spencer's head ! 
 
 Sir J. Well said, my lord. 
 
 Queen. Oh, my sweet heart, how do I moan thy 
 wrongs, 
 Yet triumpli in the hope of thee, my joy ! 
 Ah, sweet Sir John ! even to the utmost verge 
 or Europe, or the shore of Tanais, 
 We will with thee to Henault — so we will : 
 The marquis is a noble gentleman ; 
 His grace, I dare presume, will welcome me. 
 But who are these ? 
 
 ErUer Kent and Young Mortimer. 
 
 Kent. Madam, long may you live, 
 Much hap[iier than your friends in England do ! 
 
 Queen. Lord Edmund and Lord Mortimer alive ! 
 Welcome to France ! the news was here, my lord 
 That you were dead, or very near your death. 
 
104 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Y. Mor. Lad}'-, the last was truest of the twain ; 
 But Mortimer, reserved lor better hap, 
 Hath shaken off the thraldom of the Tower, 
 And lives t' advance your standard, good my lord. 
 Prince. How mean you an the king, my father, 
 lives ? 
 No, my Lord Mortimer, not I, I trow. 
 
 Queen. Not, son ; why not ? I would it were no 
 worse. 
 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 showed himself; but, madam, right makes room 
 Where weapons wont: and, though so many friends 
 Are made away, as Warwick, Lancaster, 
 And others of our part and faction ; 
 Yet have we friends, assure your grace, in England 
 Would cast up caps, and clap their hands for joy, 
 To see us there, appointed for our foes. 
 Kent. Would all were well, and Edward well re- 
 claimed, 
 For England's honour, peace, and quietness. 
 
 Y. Mor. But by the sword, my lord, 't must be 
 deserved ; 
 The king will ne'er forsake his ilatterers. 
 
 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 3'ou with her to Henault ; doubt ye not, 
 We will find comfort, money, men, and friends 
 Ere long, to bid the English king a base. 
 Now say, young prince, what think you of the match ? 
 Prince. I think King Edward will outrun us ail. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 105 
 
 Queen. Nay, son, not so ; and you must not dis 
 coura<^e 
 Your friends, that are so forward in your aid. 
 
 Kent. Sir John of Henault, pardon us, I pray ; 
 These conilorts tliat you give our woful queen 
 Bind us in kindness all at your command. 
 
 Queen. Yea, gentle brother ; and the God of heaven 
 Prosper your happy motion, good Sir John. 
 
 Y. Mor. This noble gentleman, forward in arms, 
 Was born, I see, to be our anchor-hold. 
 Sir John of Henault, be it thy renown. 
 That Entjland's queen, and nobles in distress, 
 Have been by thee restored and comforted. 
 
 Sir J. Madam, along, and yon my lord, with me, 
 That England's peers may Henault's welcome see. 
 
 {^Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 Enter the King, Akundel, the two Spencers, 
 with others. 
 
 Eclw. Thus after may threats of wrathful war, 
 Triumpheth England's Edward with his friends ; 
 And trinmph, Edward, with friends uncontrolled ! 
 My lord of Gloucester, do you hear the news ? 
 
 Y. Spen. What news, my lord ? 
 
 Edxo. Why man, they say there is great executiox^ 
 Done through the realm ; my lord of Arundel, 
 You have the note, have you not ? 
 
 Arun. From the lieutenant of the Tower, my lord. 
 
 Edw. I pray let us see it. What have we there ? 
 Read it, Spencer. [Spencer reads their names. 
 
 Why so ; they barked apace a month ago : 
 Now, on my life, they'll neither bark nor bite. 
 
io6 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Now, sirs, the news from France ? Gloucester, I trow, 
 The lords of France love England's gold so well, 
 As Isabella gets no aid from thence. 
 What now remains ; have you proclaimed, my lord, 
 Reward for them can bring in Mortimer ? 
 
 Y. S'pen. My lord, we have ; and if he be in 
 England, 
 He will be had ere long, I doubt it not. 
 
 Edw. If, dost thou say ? Spencer, as true as death, 
 He is in England's ground ; our portmasters 
 Are not so careless of their king's command. 
 
 Enter a Messengeh. 
 
 How now, what news with thee ? from whence comes 
 these ? 
 
 Mes. Letters, my lord, and tidings forth of France, 
 To you, my lord of Gloucester, from Levune. 
 
 Edw. Read. 
 
 [Spencer reads the letter.'] 
 
 My duty to your honour premised, etc. 1 have, 
 
 I'm;/ to instructions in that behalf, dealt with the 
 
 \)f France his lords, and effected, that the queen, all 
 
 ',enied and discomforted, is gone. JVhither, if you 
 
 ith Sir John of Henault, brother to the marquis, 
 
 landers : with them are gone Lord Edmund, and 
 
 uord Mortimer, having in their company divers of 
 
 ur nation, and others ; and, as constant report goeth, 
 
 chcy intend to give King Edward battle in England, sooner 
 
 than he can look for them : this is all the news of import. 
 
 '• Your honours in all service, Levune." 
 
 Edw. Ah villains ! hath that Mortimer escaped ? 
 With him is Edmund gone associate ? 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 107 
 
 And will Sir John of Henault lead the round ? 
 
 Welcome, a God's name, madam, and your son ; 
 
 Enojland shall welcome you and all your rout. 
 
 Gallop apace, bright Phoebus, through the sky, 
 
 And dusty 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 tliese traitors in the field. 
 
 Ah, nothing grieves me, but my little boy 
 
 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. 
 
 Enter the Queen, her Son, Kent, Mortimek, and 
 Sir John. 
 
 Queen. Now, lords, our lc>vlug rrlcuus o,^i 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 
 In civil broils make kin and countrymen 
 Slaughter themselves in others, and their sides 
 With their own weapons gore ! I^ut what's the help ? 
 Misgoverned kings are cause of all this wreck ; 
 And, Edward, tliou art one among them all, 
 AVhose looseness hath betrayed thy land to spoil, 
 AVho made the channel overflow with blood 
 Of thine own people ; patron shouldst thou be, 
 But thou 
 
io8 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Y. Mor. Nay, Tnarlnm, if you be a wnrrior, 
 Ye must not grow so passionate in speeches. 
 Lords, sith we are, by sulFeraTice of heaven, 
 Arrived, and armed in this prince's right, 
 Here for our country's cause swear we to him 
 All homaee, fealty, and forwardness ; 
 And for the open wrongs and injuries 
 Edward hath done to us, liis queen, and land, 
 We come in anus to wreak it with the sword ; 
 That Eiiglan<l's queen in peace may repossess 
 Her dignities and honours : and withal 
 We may remove those flatterers from the king, 
 That havoc Englanil's wealth and treasury. 
 
 Sir J. Sound trumpets, my lord, and forward let us 
 march. 
 Edward will think we come to flatter liim, 
 
 Kent. I would he never had been flattered more ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 FMter the King, Baldock, and Young Spencer, 
 flying about the stage. 
 
 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. 
 
 Edw. What ! was I born to fly and run away, 
 And leave the Mortimers conquerors behind ? 
 Give me my horse, let's reinforce our troops : 
 And in this bed of honour die with fame. 
 
 Bald. no, my lord, this princely resolution 
 Fits not the time ; away, we are pursued. [Exeunt. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 109 
 
 Enter Kent alone, with his sword and target. 
 
 Kent. This way he fled, but I am come too late. 
 Edward, alas ! my heart relents for thee. 
 Proud traitor, Mortimer, why dost thou chase 
 Thy lawCul king, thy sovereign, with thy sword ? 
 Vile wretch ! and why liast tliou, of all unkind, 
 Borne arms against thy brotlier and thy king ? 
 Rain showers of vengeance on thy cursed head, 
 Thou God, to whom in justice it belongs 
 To punish this unnatural revolt ! 
 Edward, this Mortimer aims at thy life : 
 fly him then ! but Edmund, calm this rage, 
 Dissemble, or thou diest ; for Mortimer 
 And Isabel do kiss, while they conspire : 
 And yet she bears a face of lo/e forsooth. 
 Fie on that love that hatcheth death and hate ! 
 Edmund, away ; Bristow to Longshanks' blood 
 Is false ; be not found single for suspect : 
 Proud Mortimer pries near into thy walks. 
 
 Enter the Queen, Mortimer, the Young Prince, and 
 Sir Joh:. of Henault. 
 
 Q^feen. Successful battle gives the God of kings 
 To them that light ut right, and fear his wrath. 
 Sint;e then succcsstuUy we have pre/"ailed, 
 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 
 Have made his father so infortunate, 
 Deal you, my lords, in this, my loving lords, 
 As to your wisdoms fittest seems in all. 
 
no EDWARD THE SECOND, 
 
 Kent. Madam, without offence, if I may ask, 
 How will you deal with Edward in his fall ? 
 
 Prince. Tell me, good uncle, what Edward do you 
 
 mean ? 
 Kent. Nephew, your father ; I dare not call him 
 
 king. 
 Mor. ]\ly lord of Kent, what needs these questions ? 
 *Tis not in her controlment, nor in ours. 
 But as the realm and parliament shall please, 
 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. 
 Queer'. :viy lord, the Mayor ot Biistow knows our 
 
 mind. 
 F. Mor. Yea, mada^n, and they 'scape not easily 
 That fled the field. 
 
 Queen. Baldock is with the king. 
 A goodly chancellor is he not, my lord ? 
 
 Sir J. So are the Spencers, the father and the 
 
 son. 
 Kent. This Edward is the ruin of the realm. 
 
 Enter Rice ap Howell, and the Mayor of Bristow, 
 with Old Spencer prisoner. 
 
 Rice. God save queen Isabel, and her princely 
 son ! 
 Madam, the mayor and citizens of Bristow, 
 In sign of love and duty to this presence, 
 Present by me this traitor to the state, 
 Spencer, the father to that wanton Spencer, 
 That, like the lawless Catiline of Rome, 
 Revelled in England's wealth and treasury. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND, in 
 
 Queen. We thank you all. 
 Y. Mor. Your loving care in this 
 Deserveth princely favours and rewards. 
 But Where's the king and the other Spencer fled ? 
 
 Rice. Spencer the son, created Earl of Gloucester, 
 Is with that smooth-tongued scholar Baldock gone, 
 And shipped 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. 
 Prince. Shall I not see the king my father yet ? 
 Kent. Unhappy Edward, chased Irom England's 
 
 bounds. 
 Hir J. Madam, what resteth, why stand you in a 
 
 muse ? 
 Queen. I rue my lord's ill-fortune ; but alas ! 
 Care of my countrj' called me to this war. 
 
 Y. Mor, Madam, have done with care and sad 
 complaint : 
 Your king hath wronged your country and himself, 
 And we must seek to right it as we may. 
 Meanwhile, have hence this rebel to the block. 
 
 0. Spen. Rebel is he that fights against the 
 prince ; 
 So fought not they that fought in Edward's right. 
 Y. Mor. Take him away, he prates ; you, Rice ap 
 Howell, 
 Shall do good service to her majesty. 
 Being of countenance in your country here, 
 To follow tliese rebellious runagates. 
 We in meanwhile, madam, must take advice, 
 How Baldock, Spencer, and their complices, 
 INFay in their fall be followed to their end. 
 
 [Uxeunf omnfs. 
 
12 EDWARD THE SECOND, 
 
 Scene VI. 
 
 Enter the Abbot, ISIonks, Edward, Spencer, 
 and Baldock. 
 
 Alhot. 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 liave your majesty in chase, 
 Yourself, and those your chosen company, 
 As danger of tliis stormy time requires. 
 
 Edw. Father, thy face should harbour no deceit. 
 ! hadst thou ever been a king, thy heart. 
 Pierced deeply with a sense of my distress, 
 Could not but take compassion of my state, 
 Stately and proud, in riches and in train, 
 Whilom I was, powerful, and full of pomp : 
 But what is he whom rule and empery 
 Have not in life or death made miserable ? 
 Come Spencer, Baldock come, sit down by me ; 
 ]\Iake trial now of thy philosophy. 
 That in our famous nurseries of arts 
 Thou suck'Jst from Plato and from Aristotle, 
 Father, this life contemplative is heaven. 
 that I mij^ht this lile in quiet lead ! 
 But we, alas ! are chased ; 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. 
 
 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. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 113 
 
 He gave a long look after us, my lord, 
 And all the land I know is up in arms, 
 Anns that pursue our lives with deadly hate. , 
 
 Bald. We were embarked for Ireland, wretched wo ! 
 Witli awkward winds and sore tempests driven 
 To fall on shore, and here to pine in fear 
 Of JMortimer and his confederates. ; 
 
 Edw. Mortimer ! who talks of Mortimer ? 
 Who wounds me with the name of Mortimer ? 
 That bloody man ! Good father, on thy lap 
 Lay I tliis head, laden with mickle care. 
 mit^ht I never ope these eyes again ! 
 Never again lift up this drooping head ! ; 
 
 never more lift up this dying heart ! 
 
 Y. Sjicn. Look up, my loid. — Baldock, this drowsi- 
 ness 
 Betides no good ; even here we are betrayed. 
 
 Enter, with Welsh hooJcs, Rice ap Howell, a Mower, 
 and the Earl of Leicester, 
 
 Mow. Upon my life, those be the men ye seek. 
 
 Rice. Fellow, enough. My lord, I pray be sliort, 
 A fair commission warrants what we do. 
 
 Leices. The queen's commission, urged by Mortimer : 
 Wiiat cannot gallant Mortimer with the queen? 
 Alas ! see wliere he sits, and hojtes unseen 
 To escape their hands that soek to reave his life. 
 Too true it is, quern dies vidit veniens suptrbum, 
 Hunc di''s vidit fu/iens jaceniem. 
 
 But, Leicester, leave to grow so passionate. S 
 
 Si)encer and Baldock, by no other names, I 
 
 1 do arrest you of high treason here. | 
 Stand not on titles, but obey the arrest, ! 
 
114 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 'Tis in the name of Isabel the queen. 
 My lord, why droop you thus ? 
 
 Edw. (lay, the last of all my bliss on earth ! 
 Centre of all misfortune ! my stars, 
 Why do you lour unkindly on a king ? 
 Comes Leicester then in Isabella's name, 
 To take my life, my company frorri me ? 
 Here, man, rip up this panting breast of mine, 
 And take my heart in rescue of my Iriends. 
 
 Pace. Away with them ! 
 
 Y. Spen. It may become thee yet, 
 To let us take our farewell of his grace. 
 
 Abbot. My heart with pity yearns to see this 
 sight, 
 A king to bear these words and proud commands. 
 
 Uaw. Spencer, sweet S[iencer, thus then must we 
 part ? 
 
 Y. Spcn. We must, my lord, so will the angry 
 heavens. 
 
 Edw. Nay, so will hell and cruel Mortimer ; 
 The gentle heavens have not to do in this. 
 
 Bald. ]\Iy 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. 
 
 Edw. In heaven we may, in earth ne'er shall we 
 meet : 
 And, Leicester, say, what shall become of us ? 
 
 Leices. Your majesty must go to Killingworth 
 
 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. 
 
 Bice. As good be gone, as stay and be benighted. 
 
 Edw, A litter hast thou ? lay me on a hearse, 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 115 
 
 And to the p:ates 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 friend hath [haples*^] Edward none, but these ; 
 
 And these must die under a tyrant's sword. 
 
 Rice. My lord, be going ; care not for these, 
 For we shall see them shorter by the heads. 
 
 Edw. Well, that shall be, shall be : part we must ! 
 Sweet Spencer, gentle Baldock, part me must ! 
 Hence feigned weeds ! unfeignM are my woes : 
 
 [Casts off his disguise. 
 Father, farewell ! Leicester, thou stay'st for me, 
 And go I must. Life, l^rewell, with my friends. 
 
 {Exeunt Edward and Leicester. 
 
 Y. Spen. Oh, is he gone ! is noble Edward gone ! 
 Parted Irom hence ? never to see us more ? 
 Rent, sphere of heaven ! and, fire, forsake thy orb ! 
 Earth, melt to air ! gone is niy sovereign, 
 Gone, gone, alas ! never to make return. 
 
 Ba'd. Spencer, I see our souls are fleeting hence ; 
 "We are deprived the sunshine of our life : 
 Make for a new life, man ; throw up thy eyes. 
 And heart and hands to heaven's immortal throne ; 
 Pay nature's debt with cheerful countenance ; 
 Reduce we all our lessons unto this. 
 To die, sweet Spencer, therefore live we all ; 
 Spencer, all live to die, and rise to fall. 
 
 nice. Come, come, keep these preachments till you 
 come to the place appointed. 
 You, and such as you are, have made wise work in 
 England ; will your lordships away ? 
 
 Mow. Your lordship I trust will remember me ? 
 
 Rice. Remember thee, fellow ! what else 1 Follow 
 me to the town. [Exeu^U. 
 
ii6 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 ACT THE FIFTH. 
 Scene I. 
 
 Enter the Kin'G, Leicester, the Bishop of 
 Winchester, and Trussel. 
 
 Leices. Be patient, good my lord, cease to lament ; 
 Imagine Killingworth Castle were 3'Onr court, 
 And that you lay lor pleasure here a space. 
 Not of compulsion or necessity. 
 
 Edw. Leicester, if gentle words might comfort me, 
 Thy speeclies long ago had eased my sorrows, 
 For kind and loving hast thou always been. 
 The giiefs of private men are soon allay'd ; 
 But not of kiu^'s. The forest deer, being struck, 
 Runs to an herb that closeth up the wounds : 
 But when tlie itnpciial lion's flesh is gored, 
 He rends and tears it with his wrathlul paw, 
 And highly scorning that the lowly earth 
 Should diiiik his Mood, mounts up to tho air : 
 And so it lares with me, whose dauntless mind 
 The ambitious Mortimer would seek to curb, 
 And that unnatural queen, false Isabel, 
 That thus hath jient and mew'd me in a prison ; 
 For such outrageous passions cloy my soul, 
 As with the wings of rancour and disdain 
 Full often am I soaring up to heaven, 
 To plain me to tlie gods a^^ainst them both. 
 But when 1 call to mind I am a king, 
 Mcthinks I sliould revenge me of my wrong?. 
 That Alortimer and Isabel have done. 
 But what are kings, when regiment is gone, 
 But perfect sliadows in a sunshine day ? 
 My nobles rule ; I bear the name of king ; 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 117 
 
 I wear the crown ; but am controlled by them, 
 By Mortimer, and my unconstant queen, 
 "NVlio spots my nuptial bed with inlamy ; 
 Whilst I am lodged within this cave of care, 
 Wiiere sorrow at my elbow still attends, 
 To conii)any my heart with sad laments, 
 That bleeds within me for this strange exchange. 
 But tell me, must I now resign my crown. 
 To make usurping Mortimer a king ? 
 
 Winch. Your grace mistakes ; it is for England's 
 good, 
 And princely Edward's right, we crave the crown. 
 
 Edw. No, 'tis for ^lortimer, not Edward's head ; 
 For he's a lamb, enco'.n]tass( d h}' wolves, 
 "Which in a moment will abridge his life. 
 But, if ]>roml Mortimer do wear this crown, 
 Heaven turn it to a blaze of quenchless fire 
 Or, like the snaky wreath of Tisiphon, 
 Engirt the temples of his hateful head ! 
 So shall not England's vine be perished, 
 But Edward's name survive, though Edward dies. 
 
 Lakes. My lord, why waste you thus the time 
 away ? 
 They stay your answer : will you yield your crown ? 
 
 Edw. Ah, Leicester, weigh how hardly I can brook 
 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 muithered is ! 
 But that the heavens appoint 1 must obey. — 
 Here, take my crown ; the life of Edward too : 
 
 [Taking off the crow/i. 
 Two kings in England cannot reign at once. 
 But stay awliile : let me be king till night. 
 
ii8 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 That I may gaze upon this glittering crown ; 
 
 So shall my eyes receive their last content, 
 
 My head, the latest honour due to it, 
 
 And jointly both yield up their wishM right. 
 
 Continue ever, thou celestial sun ; 
 
 Let never silent night possess this clime ; 
 
 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 ! 
 
 But day's bright beam doth vanish fast away, 
 
 And needs I must resign my wishM crown. 
 
 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. 
 
 [He puts on the crown. 
 What, fear you not the fury of your king ? — 
 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. 
 But that I feel the crown upon my head ; 
 And therefore let me wear it yet awhile. [news ; 
 
 Trus. My lord, the parliament must have present 
 And therefore say, will you resign or no I 
 
 [ The King rageth. 
 
 Edw. I'll not resign, not whilst I live ! 
 Traitors, be gone ! join you with Mortimer ! 
 Elect, conspire, install, do what you will : 
 Their blood and yours shall seal these treacheries. 
 
 Winch. This answer we'll return ; and so, farewell. 
 [Going with Tetjssbl. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 119 
 
 Leicis. Call them again, my lord, and speak them 
 fair ; 
 For, if they go, the prince shall lose his right. 
 
 Edw. Call thou them back ; I have no power to 
 speak. 
 
 Leiccs. My lord, the king is willing to resign. 
 
 Winch. If he be not, let him choose. 
 
 Edw. 0, 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, 
 And will be called the murtherer 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 tojsteel 
 Will sooner sparkle fire than shed a tear. 
 Yet stay ; for, rather than I'll look on them. 
 Here, here ! [Gives the crown.^ — Now, sweet God of 
 
 heaven, 
 Make me despise this transitory pomp, 
 And sit for ever enthronized in heaven ! 
 Come, death, and with thy fingers close my eyes, 
 Or, if I live, let me forget myself ! 
 
 Winch. My lord. 
 
 Edw. Call me not lord ; away — out of my sight ; 
 Ah, pardon me : grief makes me lunatic ! 
 Let not that Mortimer protect my son ; 
 More safety is there 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 moved, 
 
I20 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Return it back, and dip it in my blood. 
 Commend me to my son, and bid him rule 
 Better than I. Yet how have I trans^^rest, 
 Unless it be with too much clemency ? 
 
 Trus. And thus most humbly do we take our leave. 
 \Excunt Bishop and Attendants. 
 
 Edw. Farewell ; I know the next news that they 
 bring 
 Will be my death : and welcome shall it be ; 
 To wretched men, death is felicity. 
 
 Enter Berkeley, who gives a paper to Leicester. 
 
 Leices. Another post ! what news bririf^s he 1 
 
 Echo. Su(di news as 1 exf)ect — come, B n keley, come, 
 And tell thy message to my naked breast. 
 
 Berk, ^ly lord, tliiiik not a thought so villainous 
 Can harbour in a man oT noble bu'tli. 
 To do your higlmess service and devoir, 
 And save you from your Ibes, Berkeley would die. 
 
 Ldces. My lord, the council of the queen commands 
 That I resign my charge. 
 
 Edw. And who must keep me now ? Must you, my 
 lord? 
 
 Berk. Aye, my most gracious lord — so 'tis decreed. 
 
 Edw. [taking the paper]. By Mortimer, whose 
 name is written here ! 
 "Well may 1 rent his name that rends my heart. 
 
 [Tears It. 
 This poor revenge hath something eased 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. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND, 121 
 
 Edw. Wliither you will, all places are alike, 
 And every earth is fit for burial. 
 
 Leiccs. Favour liim, my loid, as much as lieth in 
 
 yon. 
 BerL Even so betide my soul as I use him. 
 £dw. Mine enemy hath pitied my estate, 
 And that's tlie rause that I am now removed. 
 BerL And thinks your grace that Berkeley will be 
 
 cruel ? 
 Fdic. I know not ; but of this am I assured, 
 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 omnes. 
 
 Scene II. 
 Enter Mortimer and Queen Isabel. 
 
 V. Mor. Fair Isabel, now have we our desire. 
 The proud coriupters of the light-brained king 
 Have done their homage to tlie lofty gallows, 
 And he himself lies in captivity. 
 Be ruled by me, and we will rule the realm. 
 In any case take heed of cliildish fear. 
 For now we hold an old wolf by tlie ears, 
 That if he slip will seize upon us both, 
 And gripe the sorer, being gript himself. 
 Think therefore, madam, it imports us much 
 To erect your son Avitli all the speed we may, 
 And that I be protector over liim ; 
 For our behoof, 'twill bear the gi eater sway 
 Wiienas a king's name shall be under writ. 
 
 Queen. Sweet Mortimer, the life of Isabel, 
 Be thou persuaded that I love thee well, 
 
122 EDWARD THE SECOND, 
 
 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. 
 
 Y. Mot. First would I hear news [that] he were 
 
 And then let me alone to handle him. 
 E7iter Messenger. 
 
 Letters ! from whence ? 
 
 Mess. From Killingworth, my lord. 
 
 Queen. How fares my lord the king ? 
 
 Mess. In health, madam, but full of pensiveness. 
 
 Queen. Alas, poor soul, would I could ease his grief ! 
 
 Enter Winchester with the Crown. 
 
 Thanks, gentle Winchester, [To the Messenger. "[ Sirrah, 
 be gone. [Exit Messenger. 
 
 Winch. The king hath willingly resigned his crown. 
 
 Queen. Oh happy news ! send for the prince, my 
 son. 
 
 Winch. Further, ere this was sealed, Lord Berkeley 
 came. 
 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 as pitiful 
 As Leicester that had charge of him before. 
 
 Queen. Then let some other be his guardian. 
 
 Y. Mor. Let me alone, here is the privy seal. 
 Who's there ? — call hither Gurney and Matrevis. 
 To dash the heavy-headed Edmund's drift, 
 Berkeley shall be discharged, the king removed, 
 And none but we shall know where he lieth. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 123 
 
 Queen. But, Mortimer, as long as he survives, 
 What safety rests for us, or for my son ? 
 
 Y. Mor. Speak, shall he presently be despatched 
 
 and die. 
 Queen. I would he were, so't were not by my means. 
 
 Enter Matrevis and Gurney. 
 
 T. Mor. Enough ; Matrevis, write a letter presently 
 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. 
 
 Y. Mor. Gurney. 
 
 Gur. My lord. 
 
 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 can to make him droop, 
 And neither give him kind word nor good look. 
 
 Gur. I warrant you, my lord. 
 
 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. 
 And by the way, to make him fret the more, 
 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. 
 
 Queen. Whither goes this letter ? to ray lord the 
 king ? 
 Commend me humbly to his majesty. 
 And tell him that I labour all in vain 
 
124 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 To ease his grief, and work his liberty ; 
 And bear Liin this as witness of my love. 
 
 [Gives a ring. 
 Mat. I will, madam. 
 
 {Exeunt all hut Isabel and Mortimer. 
 
 Enter the Young Prixce, and lite Earl of Kent 
 talking with him. 
 
 Y. Mor. Finely dissembled ? Do so still, sweet 
 
 queen. 
 Here comes tlie young prince, with the Earl of Kent. 
 Queen. Something lie whispers in liis childish ears. 
 Y. Mor. If he have sucli access unto the prince, 
 Our plots and stiatageuis will soon be dashed. 
 Queen. Use Edmund fiiendly, as if all were well. 
 Y. Mor. How fares my honourable lord of Kent ? 
 Kent. In health, sweet Mortimer : how fares your 
 
 grace ? 
 Queen. Well, if my lord your brother were enlarged. 
 Kent. I hear of late he hath deposed himself. 
 Queen. The more my grief. 
 Y. Mor. And mine. 
 
 Kent. Ah, they do dissemble ? [Aside. 
 
 Queen. 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. 
 
 Kent. Not I, my lord ; who should protect the son, 
 But s!)e that gave him life ; I mean the queen ? 
 
 Prince. JNIother, persuade me not to wear the crown : 
 Let him be king — I am too young to reign. 
 
 Queen. But be content, seeing 't is his highness' 
 
 pleasures. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 125 
 
 Prince. Let me but see him first, and then I will. 
 
 Kent. Ay, do, sweet nejliew. 
 
 Queen. Brother, you know it is impossible. 
 
 Prince. Why, is he dead ? 
 
 Queen. No, God forbid. 
 
 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. I tell thee, 'tis not meet that one so lalse 
 Should come about the person of a prince. 
 My lord, he hath betrayed the king his brother, 
 And therefore trust him not. 
 
 Prince. But he repents, and sorrows for it now. 
 Queen. Come, son, and go with this gentle lord and 
 
 me. 
 Prince. "With you I will, but not with Mortimer. 
 Y. Mor. Why, youngling, 'sdain'st thou kg of 
 Mortimer? 
 Then I will carry thee by force away. 
 Prince. Help, uncle Kent, Mortimer will wrong 
 
 me. 
 Queen. Brother Edmund, strive not ; we are his 
 friends ; 
 Isabel is nearer than the Earl of Kent. 
 
 Kent. Sister, Edward is my charge, redeem him. 
 Queen. 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, 
 And rescue aged Edward from his Iocs, 
 To be revenged on Mortimer and thee. 
 
 [Aside. Expimi omnp^ 
 
126 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Scene III. 
 Enter Matrevis and Gueney, unth the Kino. 
 
 Mat. My lord, be not pensive, we are your friends ; 
 Lien are ordained to live in misery, 
 Therefore come — dalliance dangereth our lives. 
 
 Kdw. Friends, whither must unhappy Edward go ? 
 Will hateful Mortimer appoint no rest ! 
 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, 
 And give my heart to Isabel and him ; 
 It is the chiefest mark they level at. 
 
 Gur. Not so, my liege, the queen bath given this 
 chaige 
 [Only] to keep your grace in safety: 
 Your passions make your dolours to increase. 
 
 Edw. This usage makes my misery increase. 
 But can my air of life continue long 
 When all my senses are annoyed with stench ? 
 Within a dungeon England's king is kept. 
 Where I am starved for want of sustenance. 
 My daily diet is heart-breaking sobs, 
 That almost rent the closet of my heart ; 
 Thus lives old Edward not relieved by any, 
 And so must die, though pitied by many. 
 Oh, water, gentle friends, to cool my tliirst, 
 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. 
 
 Edw. Traitors, away ! what, will you murder me, 
 Or choke your sovereign with puddle water ? 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND, 127 
 
 Our. 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 ? 
 
 Edio. The wren may strive against the lion's strength, 
 But all in vain : so vainly do I strive 
 To seek for mercy at a tyrant's hand, 
 
 [They wash him with puddle water, and shave 
 his beard aivay. 
 Immortal powers ! that know the painful cares 
 That wait npon my poor distressed soul ! 
 level your looks upon these daring men, 
 That wrong tlieir liege and sovereign, England's king. 
 Gaveston, 'tis for thee that I am wronged, 
 For me, both thou and both the Spencers died ! 
 And for your sakes a thousand wiongs I'll take. 
 The Spencers' ghosts, wherever they remtiin, 
 Wish well to mine ; then tush, for theui I'll die. 
 
 MaJ,. 'Twixt theirs and yours shall be no enmity. 
 Come, come away ; now put the torches out, 
 We'll enter in by darkness to Killingworth. 
 
 Enter Kent. 
 
 Gur. How now, who comes there ? 
 Mat. Guard the king sure : it is the Earl of Kent. 
 Edw. 0, gentle brother, help to rescue me ! 
 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. 
 Kent. Lay down your weapons, traitors; yield the 
 
 king. 
 Mat. Edmund, yield thou thyself, or thou shalt die. 
 Kent. Base villains, wherefore do you gripe me 
 
 thus ! 
 
128 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Gut. Bind him, and so convey l)im to the court. 
 Kent. Where is the court but here ? here is the 
 kintr, 
 And I will visit him ; why stay you me? 
 
 Mat. The court is where Lord Mortimer remains ; 
 Thither shall your lionour go ; and so farewell. 
 
 [Exeunt Matrevis and Guiiney, with the Kino. 
 Kent and the Soldiers remain. 
 Kent. miserable is that commonweal, 
 Where lords keep courts, and kings are locked in 
 prison ! 
 Sol. Wherefore stay we ? on, sirs, to the court. 
 Kent. Aye, lead me whither you will, even to my 
 death. 
 Seeing that my brother cannot be released. 
 
 [Exeunt omncs. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 Enter Young 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, 
 Is sure to pay ibr it when his son's of age ; 
 And therefore will I do it cunningly. 
 This letter, written by a friend of ours, 
 Contains his death, yet bids them save his life. [Reads. 
 Edwardum occidcre nolite tiviere bonnm est 
 Fear not to kill the klncj 'tis good he die. 
 But read it thus, and that's another sense : 
 Edioardum occidcre nolite timcre bonum est 
 Kill not tlie king 'tis good to fear thf worst. 
 Unpointed as it is, thus shall it go, 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 129 
 
 That, being dead, if it chance to be found, 
 Matrevis and the rest may bear the blame, 
 And we be quit that caused it to be done. 
 Within tins room is locked the messenger 
 That shall convey it, and perform the rest : 
 And by a secret token that he bears. 
 Shall he be murdered when the deed is done. 
 Lightborn, come forth ; 
 
 ErUer Lightborn. 
 
 Art thou so resolute as thou wast ? 
 
 Ligld. "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. 
 
 T. 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 killed a man ; 
 I learned in Naples how to poison flowers ; 
 To strangle witli 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 povvder in his ears ; 
 Or open his mouth, and pour quicksilver 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. 
 Deliver this to Gurney and Matrevis : 
 
 [Gives letter. 
 (I) 
 
I30 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 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 Edward's 
 death. 
 
 Light. That will I quickly do. Farewell, my lord. 
 
 Exit. 
 Y, Mor. The prince I rule, the queen do I command, 
 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 ; 
 Feared am I more than loved — let mo be feared ; 
 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, 
 And sue to me for that that I desire. 
 While at the council-table, grave enough, 
 And not unlike a bashful ])uritan, 
 First I complain of imbecility. 
 Saying it is onus qiiam gravissimum ; 
 Till being interru[)tcd by my friends, 
 Susepi tliat 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 rule us. 
 Mine enemies will I plague, my friends advance ; 
 And what I list command who dare control ? 
 Major sum quctm cui possit fortuna nocere. 
 And that this be the coronation-day, 
 It pleaseth me, and Isabel the queen. 
 
 [Trumpets within. 
 The trumpets sound, I must go take my place. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 131 
 
 Enter the Young Krxo, AHcnBisnop, Champion, 
 
 Nobles, Queen. 
 
 Archhish. Long live King Edward, by the grace 
 of God, 
 King of En^^land, and Lord of Ireland ! 
 
 Cham. If any Christian, Heatlien, Turk, or Jew, 
 Dare but affirm that Edward's not true king, 
 And will avouch liis saying with the sword, 
 I am the champion that will combat him. 
 
 v. Mor. None comes, sound trumpets. 
 
 Khif]. Champion, heie's to thee. [Gives a purse. 
 
 Queen. Lord Mortimer, now take him to your 
 charge. 
 
 Enter Soldiers with the Eael of Kent, prisoner. 
 
 Y. Mor. What traitor have we there with blades 
 and bills? 
 
 Sol. Edmund, the Earl of Kent. 
 
 Kivg. What liath he done? 
 
 Sol. He would have taken the king away perforce. 
 As we were bringing him to Killingworth. 
 
 Y. Mor. Did you attempt bis rescue, Edmund ? 
 sjiciik. 
 
 Kent. Mortimer, I did ; he is our king. 
 And thou compell'st this prince to wear the crown. 
 
 Y. Mor. Stid-cconius head, lie shall have martial law. 
 
 Kent. Strike oil' my head ! base traitor, 1 defy thee. 
 
 Kinrj. Ikly lord, he is my uncle, and shall live. 
 
 Y. Mor. "lily lord, he is your enemy, and shall die. 
 
 Kent, Stay, villains ! 
 
 King. Sweet mother, if I cannot pardon him. 
 Entreat my Lord Protector for his life. 
 
 Queen. Son, be content ; I dare not speak a word. 
 
132 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 King. Nor I, and yet methinks I should command ; 
 But, seeing I cannot, I'll entreat for him — 
 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 ? 
 
 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 tliem thirst for Edmund's blood. 
 And therefore, soldiers, whither will you hale me ? 
 [They hale Kent away and carry him to be beheaded. 
 
 King. What safety may I look for at his hands, 
 If that my uncle shall be murdered thus ? 
 
 Queen. Fear not, sweet boy, I'll guard thee from thy 
 foes ; 
 Had Edmund lived, he would have sought thy death. 
 Come, son, we'll ride a-hunting in the park. 
 
 King. And shall my uncle Edmund ride with us ? 
 
 Queen. He is a traitor, think not on him ; come. 
 
 [Exeunt omnes. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 Enter Matrevis and Gurney. 
 
 3fat. Gurney, I wonder the king dies not, 
 Being in a vault up to the knees in water, 
 To which the channels of the castle run, 
 From whence a damp continually ariseth, 
 That were enough to poison any man. 
 Much more a king, brought up so tenderly. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 133 
 
 Our. And so do T, Matrcvis : yesternight 
 I opened but the door to throw him meat, 
 And I was almost stifled with tlie savour. 
 
 ^fnt. He hath a body able to endure 
 More than we can iidlict : and tlieretore now 
 Let us assail his minrl another while, 
 
 Gur. Send for him out thence, aud I will anger him. 
 
 Mat. But stay ; who's this ? 
 
 Enter Lightboen. 
 
 Light My Loid Protector greets you. [Gives letter. 
 
 Gur. What's here ? I know not how to construe it. 
 
 Mat. Gurney, it was left unpointed for the nonce ; 
 Edwardum occidere nolite timere, 
 That's his meaning. 
 
 Light. Know ye this token ? I must have the king. 
 
 [Gives token. 
 
 Mat. Ay, stay a while ; thou shalt have answer 
 straight. 
 This villain's sent to make away the king. 
 
 Gur. I thought as much. 
 
 3Iaf. And, when the murder's done. 
 See how he must be handled for his labour — 
 Percat iste! Let him have the king ; 
 What else ? — Here is the keys, this is the lake : 
 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 rae a spit, and let it be red hot. 
 
 Mat. Very well. 
 
 Chir. Need you anything besides ? 
 
 Light. A table and a feather-bed. 
 
 Gur. That's all? 
 
[34 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 Light. Ay, ay : so, when I call you, bring it in. 
 
 Mat. Fear not tlion tliat. 
 
 Gur. Here's a light ; go into the dungeon. 
 
 [Gives lijht to Lroirrnoiix, and then 
 exit with Mathevis. 
 
 Light. So, now 
 JIust I ahout tin's gear : ne'er was there any 
 So finely handled as this king shall be. 
 Foil, here's a place indeed, with all my heart ! 
 
 Edw. Who's there ? what light is that ? whore- 
 fore com'st tiiou? 
 
 Light. To comfort you, and bring you joyful news. 
 
 Edw. Small comfort finds poor Edward in thy 
 looks : 
 Villain, I know thou com'st to murder me. 
 
 Light. To murder you, my most gracious lord 1 
 Far is it from my heart to do you harm. 
 The queen sent me to see how you were used, 
 For she relents at this your miseiy : 
 And what eyes can refrain from shedding tears, 
 To see a king in this most piteous state ? 
 
 Edw. Weep'st thou already ? list a while to me, 
 And then thy heart, were it as Gurney's is, 
 Or as ^latrevis', hewn from the Caucasus, 
 Yet will it melt ere I have done my tale. 
 This dungeon where they keep me is tlio sink 
 Wherein the filth of all the castle falls. 
 
 Light. villains ! 
 
 Edtv. And there, in mire and puddle, have I stood 
 This ten days' space ; and, lest that I should sleep, 
 One [days continually upon a drum. 
 They give me bread and water, being a king ; 
 So that, for want of sleep and sustenance, 
 ;My mind's distempcr'd, and my body's numb'd, 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 13^ 
 
 And whether I have limbs or no I know not. 
 0, would my blood dropped out from every vein, 
 As doth this water fiom my tatter'd robes ! 
 T(dl Isabel the (pieen, I look'd not tlius, 
 When for her sake I ran at tilt in France, 
 And there unhorsed the Duke ol Cleremont. 
 Lirjld. 0, speak no more, my lord ! this breaks my 
 heart. 
 Lie on this bed, and rest yourself a while. 
 Edw. These looks of thine can harbour nought 
 but death ; 
 I see my tra<:;edy written in thy brows. 
 Yet stay a while ; forbear thy bloody hand, 
 And let me see the stroke before it comes. 
 That even then when I shall lose my life, 
 My mind may be more steadfast on my God. 
 Lhjht. What means your highness to mistrust me 
 
 thus? 
 Edw. What mean'st thou to dissemble with me 
 
 thus 1 
 Light. These hands were never stain'd with innocent 
 blood, 
 Nor shall they now be tainted with a king's. 
 Edw. Foigive ray thought for having such a 
 thought. 
 One jewel have I left ; receive thou this : 
 
 [Giving jewel. 
 Still fear I, and I know not wh.at's the cause, 
 But every joint shakes as I give it tliee. 
 0, if thou harbour'st murder in thy heart, 
 Let this gift change thy mind, and save thy soul I 
 Know that I am a king : 0, at that name 
 I leel a hell of grief ! where is my crown ? 
 Gone, gone ! and do I remain alive ? 
 
136 EDWARD THE SECOND, 
 
 Light. You're overwatch'd, my lord : lie down and 
 
 rest. 
 
 Edw. But that grief keeps me waking, I should 
 sleep ; 
 For not these ten days have these eye-lids closed. 
 Now, as I speak, they fall ; and yet with fear 
 Open again. 0, wherefore sitt'st thou here ? 
 
 Light. If you mistrust me, I'll be gone, my lord, 
 
 Edw. No, no ; for, if thou mean'st to murder me. 
 Thou wilt return again ; and therefore stay. [Sleeps. 
 
 Lifjht. He sleeps. [a while ! 
 
 Edw. [waking] 0, let me not die yet ! 0, stay 
 
 Light. How now, my lord ! 
 
 Edw. Something still buzzeth in mine ears, 
 And tells me, if I sleep, I never wake : 
 Tliis fear is that which makes me tremble thus; 
 And therefore tell me, wherefore art thou come ? 
 
 Light. To rid thee of thy life. — Matrevis, come ! 
 
 Enter Matrevis and Gurney. 
 
 Edw. I am too weak and feeble to resist. — 
 Assist me, sweet God, and receive my soul 1 
 Light. Run for tlie table. 
 Edw. 0, 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 thou 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 ? 
 Gur. Excellent well : take this for thy reward. 
 
 [Stabs LiGHTBORN, who dies. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND. 137 
 
 Come, let us cast the body in the moat, 
 
 And bear the king's to Mortimer our lord : 
 
 Away ! {Exeunt wiUi the bodies. 
 
 Scene VI. 
 Enter Moktimer and Mateevis. 
 
 Y. Mor. Is'tdone, Matrevis, and the murderer dead? 
 
 Mat. Aye, my good lord ; I would it were undone. 
 
 Y. Mor. Matievis, if thou now growest penitent 
 I'll be thy glio.stly father ; therefore chuse, 
 "Whether thou wilt be secret in this. 
 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. 
 
 Y. Mor. As for myself, I stand as Jove's huge tree ; 
 And others are but shrubs compared to me. 
 All tremble at my name, and I fear none ; 
 Let's see who dare impeach me for his death. 
 
 Enter the Queen. 
 
 Queen. Ah, Mortimer, the king my son hath news 
 His father's dead, and we have murdered him. 
 
 Y. Mor. What if he have ? the king is yet a child. 
 
 Queen. Aye, but he tears his hair, and wrings his 
 hands, 
 A-Qd vows to be revenged upon us both. 
 Into the council-chamber he is gone, 
 To crave the aid and succour of his peers. 
 Ah me ! see where he comes, and they with him ; 
 Now, Mortimer, begins our tragedy. 
 
138 EDWARD THE SECOND, 
 
 Enter the King, with the Lords. 
 
 First Lord. Fear not, my lord, know that you are a 
 kini;. 
 
 King. Villain ! 
 
 Y. Mor. How now, my lord ? 
 
 King. Think not that I am frighted with thy 
 words ! 
 My fatlier's murdered throiii^h thy treachery; 
 And thon shalt die, and on his monrnfnl hearse 
 Thy hateful and accursed head shall lie, 
 To witness to the world, that b}' thy means 
 His kingly body was too soon interred. 
 
 Queen. Weep not, sweet son ! 
 
 King. Forbid me not to weep, he was my father ; 
 And, had you loved him half so well as I, 
 You could not bear his death thus patiently. 
 But you, I fear, conspired with Mortimer. 
 
 Lords. Why speak you not unto my lord the king ? 
 
 Y. Mor. Because I think scorn to be accused. 
 Wiio is the man dare say I murdered him ? 
 
 King. Traitor ! in me my loving father speaks, 
 And plainly saith, 'twas thou that murder'dst him. 
 
 Y. Mor. But hath your grace no other proof than 
 this ? 
 
 King. Yes, if this be the hand of Mortimer. 
 
 Y. Mor. False Gurney hath betrayed me and liirn- 
 self. [Aside. 
 
 Queen. I feared as much ; murder cannot be liid. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Y. Mor. 'Tis my hand ; what gather you by this ? 
 
 King. That thither tliou didst send a murderer. 
 
 Y. Mor. What murderer ? Bring forth the man I 
 sent. 
 
EDWARD THE SECOND, 139 
 
 King. Aye, Mortimer, thou kuow'st that he is 
 slain ; 
 And so slialt thou be too. Why stays he here ? 
 Biing him unto a hnnlle, drag liim Ibrth, 
 Haiif? liim, I say, and set his (juartcrs up. 
 But h\\\v^ his head l>ack presently to me. 
 
 Queen. For my sake,, sweet son, pity Mortimer. 
 
 Y. Mor. Madam, entreat not, I will rather die, 
 Than sue for life unto a paltry boy. 
 
 King. Hence with the traitor ! with the murderer 1 
 
 Y. Mor. Base Fortune, now I see, that in thy wheel 
 There is a point, to which when men aspire, 
 They tumble iieadlong down : that point I touched, 
 And, seeinji; there was no place to mount up higher, 
 Why should I grieve at my declining fall ? 
 Farewell, fair queen ; weep not for Mortimer, 
 That scorns the world, and, as a traveller, 
 Goes to discover countries yet unknown. 
 
 King. What ! suffer you the traitor to delay? 
 
 [Mortimer is taken away. 
 
 Queen. As thou receivedest thy life from mo, 
 Spill not the blood of gentle JMortimer. 
 
 King. This argues that you spilt my father's blood, 
 Else would you not entreat for Mortimer. 
 
 Queen. I spill his blood ? no. 
 
 King. Aye, madam, you ; for so the rumour runs. 
 
 Queen. That rumour is untrue ; for loving thee, 
 Is this report raised on poor Isabel ? 
 
 King. I do not think her so unnatural. 
 
 Second Lord. My lord, I fear me it will prove too 
 true. 
 
 King. Mother, you are suspected for his death, 
 And therefore we commit you to the Tower, 
 Till farther trial may be made thereof ; 
 
140 EDWARD THE SECOND. 
 
 If you be guilty, thoufjh I be your son, 
 Thitik not to find me slack or pitiful. 
 
 Queen. Nay, to my death, tor too lonsfliave I lived, 
 Wlienas my son thinks to al)ridt;e my days. 
 
 King. Away with her, her words enforce these tears, 
 And I shall pity her if she speak again. 
 
 Queen. Shall I not mourn for my beloved lord, 
 And with the rest aceom})any him to his grave ? 
 
 Lord. Thus, madam, 'tis the king's will you shall 
 hence. 
 
 Queen. He hath forgotten me ; stay, I am his 
 mother. 
 
 Lord. That boots not ; therefore, gentle jnadam, go. 
 
 Queen. Then come, sweet death, and rid me of this 
 grief. [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter a Lord, with the head of Mortimer. 
 
 Lord. My lord, here is the head of Mortimer. 
 
 King. Go fetch my father's hearse, where it shall lie ; 
 And bring my funeral robes. Accursed head, 
 Could I have ruled thee then, as I do now. 
 Thou had'st not hatched this monstrous treachery. 
 Here comes tlie hearse ; help me to mourn, my lords. 
 Sweet father, here unto tliy murdered 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, 
 
THE MASSACRE OF PARIS. 
 
 GUISE DECLARES HIS POLICY. 
 
 Act I., Scene 2. 
 
 Guise. Now, Guise, begin those deep-engendei'd 
 thoughts 
 To burst abroad those never-dying flames 
 Which cannot be extinguish'd but by blood : 
 Oft have I levell'd, and at last have learn'd 
 That peril is the chiefest way to happiness, 
 And resolution honour's fairest aim. 
 "What glory is there in a common good, 
 That hangs for every peasant to achieve ? 
 That like I best, that flies beyond my reach. 
 Set me to scale the high Pyramides, 
 And thereon set the diadem of France ; 
 I'll either rend it with my nails to naught, 
 Or mount the top with my aspiring wings, 
 
142 THE MASSACRE OF PARTS. 
 
 Although my downfall be the deepest hell. 
 
 For this I wake, when others think I sleep ; 
 
 For this I wait, that scorn attendance else ; 
 
 For this my quenchless thirst, whereon I build, 
 
 Hath often pleaded kindred to the king ; 
 
 For this, this head, this heart, tliis liand, and sword, 
 
 Contrives, imagines, and fully executes, 
 
 Matters of import aimed at by many, 
 
 Yet understood by none ; 
 
 For this, hath heaven engender'd me of earth ; 
 
 For this, this earth sustains my body's weight. 
 
 And with this weight I'll counterpoise a crown, 
 
 Or with seditions weary all the world ; 
 
 For this, from Spain the stately Catholics 
 
 Send Indian gold to coin me French ecues ; 
 
 For this, have I a largess from the Pope, 
 
 A pension, and a dispensation too ; 
 
 And by that privilege to work upon, 
 
 My policy hath frani'd religion. 
 
 Religion ! Dlabole ! 
 
 Fie, I am asham'd, however that I seem. 
 
 To think a word of such a simple sound. 
 
 Of so great matter should be made the ground. 
 
 The gentle king, wliose pleasure uncontioll'd 
 
 Weakeneth his body, and will waste his realm, 
 
 If I repair not what he ruinates — 
 
 Him, as a child, I daily win with words, 
 
 So that for proof he barely bears the name ; 
 
 I execute, and he sustains the blame. 
 
THE MASSACRE OF PARIS. 143 
 
 The Mother-Queen works wonders for my sake, 
 
 And in my love entombs the hope of France, 
 
 Rifling the bowels of her treasury, 
 
 To supply my wants and necessity. 
 
 Paris hath full live hundred colleges. 
 
 As monasteries, priories, abbeys, and halls, 
 
 Wherein are thirty thousand able men, 
 
 Besides a thousand sturdy student Catholics ; 
 
 And more — of my knowledge, in one cloister keep 
 
 Five hundred fat Franciscan friars and priests : 
 
 All this, and more, if more may be compris'd. 
 
 To bring the will of our desires to end. 
 
 Then, Guise, 
 
 Since thou hast all the cards within thy hands, 
 
 To shuffle or cut, take this as surest thing, 
 
 That, riglit or wrong, thou deal thyself a king — 
 
 Ay, but, Navarre — 'tis but a nook of France, 
 
 Sufficient yet for such a petty king, 
 
 That, with a rabblement of iiis heretics. 
 
 Blinds Europe's eyes, and troubleth our estate. 
 
 Him will we — [Pointing to his swoi'd.] but first let's 
 
 follow those in France 
 That hinder our possession to the crown. 
 As Qiesar to his soldiers, so say I — 
 Those that hate me will I learn to loathe. 
 Give me a look, that, when I bend the brows, 
 Pale death may walk in furrows of my face ; 
 A hand, that with a grasp may gripe the world ; 
 An ear to hear what my detractors say ; 
 
144 THE MASSACRE OF PARIS. 
 
 A royal seat, a sceptre, and a crown ; 
 That those which do behold them may become 
 As men that stand and gaze against the sun. 
 The plot is laid, and things shall come to pass 
 Where resolution strives for victory. 
 
 THE DEATH OF GUISE. 
 
 Act III., Scene 2. 
 
 Guise. Now sues the king for favour to the Guise, 
 And all his minions stoop when I command : 
 "Why, this 'tis to have an army in the field. 
 Xow, by the holy sacrament, I swear, 
 As ancient Romans o'er their captive lords, 
 So will 1 triumph o'er this wanton king ; 
 And he shall follow my proud chariot's wheels. 
 Now do I but begin to look about, 
 And all my former time was spent in vain. 
 Hold, sword, 
 For in thee is the Duke of Guise's hope. 
 
 He-enter Third Murderer. 
 
 Villain, why dost thou look so ghastly ? speak. 
 
 Third Murd. 0, pardon me, my Lord of Guise ! 
 
 Guise. Pardon thee ! why, what hast thou done ? 
 
 Third Murd. my lord, I am one of them that is 
 set to murder you 1 
 
 Guise. To murder me, villain ! 
 
 Third Murd, Ay, my lord : the rest have ta'en their 
 
THE MASSACRE OF PARTS. 145 
 
 standings in the next room ; therefore, good my lord, 
 go not forth. 
 
 Guise. Yet Csesar shall go forth. 
 Let mean conceits and baser men fear death : 
 Tut, they are peasants ; I am Duke of Guise ; 
 And princes with their looks engender fear. 
 
 First Murd. \:within.'\ Stand close ; he is coming ; 
 I know him by his voice. 
 
 Guise. As pale as ashes ! nay, then, it is time 
 To look about. 
 
 Enter First and Second Murderers. 
 
 First and Sec. Murderers. Down with him, down 
 with him ! [They stab Guise. 
 
 Guise. 0, I have my death's wound ! give me leave 
 to speak. 
 
 Sec. Murd. Then pray to God, and ask forgiveness 
 of the king. 
 
 Giiise. Trouble me not ; I ne'er offended him, 
 Nor will I ask forgiveness of the king. 
 0, that I have not power to stay my life, 
 Nor immortality to be reveng'd ! 
 To die by feasants, what a grief is this t 
 Ah, Sixtus, bo reveng'd upon the king ! 
 Philip and Parma, I am slain for you I 
 Pope, excommunicate, Philip, depose 
 The wicked branch of curs'd Valois his line ! 
 Vive la messe ! perish Huguenots ! 
 Thus Csesar did go forth, and thus he died. [Dies. 
 
 (K) 
 
DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE, 
 
 A VISION OF OLYMPUS. 
 
 Act L, Scene 1. 
 
 Here (he curtains draw : there is discovered Jupiter 
 dandling Ganymede on his knee, and Hermes lying 
 asleep. 
 
 Jup. Come, gentle Ganymede, and play with me ; 
 I love thee well, say Juno what she will. 
 
 Gan. I am much better for your worthless love, 
 That will not shield me from her shrewish blows ! 
 To-day, whenas I fill'd into your cups, 
 And held the cloth of pleasance whiles you drank, 
 She reach'd me such a rap for that I spill'd, 
 As made the blood run down mine ears. 
 
 Jup. What, dares she strike the darling of my 
 thoughts ? 
 By Saturn's soul, and this earth-threatening hair, 
 
DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE, 147 
 
 That, shaken thrice, makes nature's buildings quake, 
 I vow, if she but once frown on thee more, 
 To hang her, meteor-like, 'twixt heaven and earth, 
 And bind her, hand and foot, with golden cords, 
 As once I did for harming Hercules ! 
 
 Gan. Might I but see that pretty sport a-foot, 
 0, how would I with Helen's brother laugh, 
 And bring the Gods to wonder at the game ! 
 Sweet Jupiter, if e'er I pleas'd thine eye, 
 Or seemed fair, wall'd in with eagle's wings, 
 Grace my immortal beauty with this boon. 
 And I will spend my time in thy briglit arms. 
 
 Jwp. What is't, sweet wag, I should deny thy youth ? 
 Whose face reflects such pleasure to mine eyes. 
 As I, exhal'd with tliy fire-darting beams, 
 Have oft driven back the horses of the Night, 
 Whenas they would have hal'd thee from my sight. 
 Sit on my knee, and call for thy content, 
 Control proud Fate, and cut the thread of Time : 
 Why, are not all the gods at thy command. 
 And heaven and earth the bounds of thy delight.^ 
 Vulcan shall dance to make thee laughing-sport. 
 And my nine daughters sing when thou art sad; 
 From Juno's bird I'll pluck her spotted pride, 
 To make thee fans wherewith to cool thy face ; 
 And Yenus' swans shall shed their silver down, 
 To sweeten out the slumbers of thy bed ; 
 Hermes no more shall show the world his wings, 
 If that thy fancy in his feathers dwell, 
 
148 DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. 
 
 But, as this one, I'll tear them all from him, 
 
 [Plucks a feather from Hermes' wings. 
 
 Do thou but say, ** their colour pleaseth me." 
 Hold here, my little love ; these linkM gems, 
 
 [Gives jewels. 
 My Juno ware upon her marriage-day, 
 Put thou about thy neck, my own sweet heart. 
 And trick thy arms and shoulders with ray theft. 
 
 Gan. I would have a jewel for mine ear. 
 And a fine brooch to put in my hat, 
 And then I'll hug with you an hundred times. 
 
 Jup. And shalt have, Ganymede, if thou wilt be my 
 love. 
 
 Enter Ventjs. 
 
 Ven. Ay, this is it : you can sit toying there, 
 And playing with that female wanton boy, 
 Whiles my iEneas wanders on the seas. 
 And rests a prey to every billow's pride. 
 Juno, false Juno, in her chariot's pomp, 
 Drawn through the heavens by steeds of Boreas' brood, 
 Made Hebe to direct her airy wheels 
 Into the windy country of the clouds ; 
 Where, finding iEolus entrench'd with storms, 
 And guarded with a thousand grisly ghosts, 
 She humbly did beseech him for our bane, 
 And charg'd him drown my son with all his train. 
 Then gan the winds break ope their brazen doors, 
 And all ^olia to be up in arms : 
 
DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. 149 
 
 Poor Troy must now be sack'd upon the sea, 
 And Neptune's waves be envious men of war ; 
 Epeus' horse, to Etna's hill transform'd, 
 PreparM stands to wreck their wooden walls ; 
 And jEoIus, like Agamemnon, sounds 
 The surges, his fierce soldiers, to the spoil ; 
 See how the night, Ulysses-like, comes forth. 
 And intercepts the day, as Dolon erst ! 
 Ay, me ! the stars supprisd, like Rhesus' steeds, 
 Are drawn by darkness forth Astrseus' tents. 
 What shall I do to save thee, my sweet boy ? 
 Whenas the waves do threat our crystal world, 
 And Proteus, raising hills of flood on high, 
 Intends, ere long, to sport him in the sky. 
 False Jupiter, reward'st thou virtue so ? 
 What, is not piety exempt from woe ? 
 Then die, ^neas, in thine innocence, 
 Since that religion hath no recompense. 
 
 Jwp. Content thee, Cytherea, in thy care. 
 Since thy iEneas' wandering fate is firm. 
 Whose weary limbs shall shortly make repose 
 In those fair walls I promis'd him of yore. 
 But, first in blood must his good fortune bud, 
 Before he be the lord of Turnus' town. 
 Or force her smile that hitherto hath frown'd : 
 Three winters shall he with the Rutiles war, 
 And, in the end, subdue them with his sword ; 
 And full three summers likewise shall he waste 
 In managing those fierce barbarian minds ; 
 
ISO DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. 
 
 Whicli once perform'd, poor Troy, so long sup- 
 
 press'd, 
 From forth her ashes shall advance her head, 
 And flourish once again, that erst was dead. 
 But bright Ascanius, beauty's better work, 
 Who with the sun divides one radiant shape, 
 Shall build his throne amidst tliose starry towers 
 That earth-born Atlas, groaning, underprops : 
 No bounds, but heaven, shall bound his empery, 
 Whose azur'd gates, enchased witli his name. 
 Shall make the Morning haste her grey uprise, 
 To feed her eyes with his engraven fame. 
 Thus, in stout Hector's race, three hundred years 
 The Roman sceptre royal shall remain, 
 Till that a princess- priest, conceiv'd by Mars, 
 Shall yield to dignity a double birth. 
 Who will eternish Troy in their attempts. 
 
 Yen. How may I credit these thy flattering terms. 
 When yet both sea and sands beset their ships, 
 And Phcebus, as in Stygian pools, refrains 
 To taint his tresses in the Tyrrhene main ? 
 
 Jwp. I will take order for that presently. — 
 Hermes, awake ! and haste to Neptune's realm, 
 Whereas the wind-god, warring now with fate, 
 Besiege[s] th' offspring of our kingly loins : 
 Charge him from me to turn his stormy powers, 
 And fetter them in Yulcan's sturdy brass. 
 That durst thus proudly wrong our kinsman's peace. 
 
 \EaciJb Hermes. 
 
DIDO, QU^EN OF CARTHAGE. 15! 
 
 Venus, farewell : thy son shall be our care. — 
 Come, Ganymede, we must about this gear. 
 
 [Exeunt Jupiter and Ganymede. 
 
 THE FALL OF TROY. 
 Act IL, Scene 1. 
 
 Dido. Nay, leave not here ; resolve me of the rest. 
 
 JEn. 0, the enchanting words of that base slave 
 Made him to think Epeus' pine-tree horse 
 A sacrifice to appease Minerva's wrath ! 
 The rather, that for one Laocoon, 
 Breaking a spear upon his hollow breast. 
 Was with two-wing?d serpents stung to death. 
 "Whereat aghast, we were commanded straight 
 With reverence to draw it into Troy : 
 In which unhappy work was I employ'd ; 
 These hands did help to hale it to the gates, 
 Through which it could not enter, 'twas so huge — 
 0, had it never enter'd, Troy had stood ! 
 But Priamus, impatient of delay, 
 Enforc'd a wide breach in that rampir'd wall 
 Which thousand battering rams could never pierce, 
 And so came in this fatal instrument • 
 At whose accursed feet, as overjoy'd, 
 We banqueted, till, overcome witli wino; 
 Some surfeited, and others soundly slept. 
 Which Sinon viewing, caused the Greekish spies 
 
152 DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. 
 
 To haste to Tenedos, and tell the camp : 
 
 Then he unlocked the horse ; and suddenly, 
 
 From out his entrails, Neoptolemus, 
 
 Setting his spear upon the ground, leapt forth, 
 
 And, after him, a thousand Grecians more, 
 
 In whose stern faces shiu'd the quenchless fire 
 
 That after burnt the pride of Asia. 
 
 By this, the camp was come unto the walls, 
 
 And through the breach did march into the streets, 
 
 Where, meeting with the rest, ** Kill, kill 1 " they 
 
 cried. 
 Frighted with this confusM noise, I rose, 
 And, looking from a turret, might behold 
 Young infants swimming in their parents' blood. 
 Headless carcasses piled up in heaps, 
 Virgins half-dead, dragg'd by their golden hair, 
 And with main force flung on a ring of pikes. 
 Old men with swords thrust through their aged sides, 
 Kneeling for mercy to a Greekish lad, 
 Who with steel pole-axes dash'd out their brains. 
 Then buckled I mine armour, drew my sword. 
 And thinking to go down, came Hector's ghost, 
 With ashy visage, blueish sulphur eyes, 
 His arms torn from his shoulders, and his breast 
 Furrow'd with wounds, and, that which made me weep, 
 Thongs at his heels, by which Achilles' horse 
 Drew him in triumph through the Greekish camp, 
 Burst from the earth, crying, •* iEneas, fly ! 
 Troy is a-fire, the Grecians have the town ! " 
 
DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. 153 
 
 Dido. Hector, who weeps not to hear thy name ? 
 
 JEn. Yet flung I forth, and desperate of my life, 
 Ran in the thickest throngs, and with this sword 
 Sent many of their savage ghosts to hell. 
 At last came Pyrrhus, fell and full of ire, 
 His harness dropping blood, and on his spear 
 The mangled head of Priam's youngest son ; 
 And, after him, his band of Myrmidons, 
 "With balls of wild-fire in their murdering paws, 
 Which made the funeral flame that burnt fair Troy ; 
 All which hemm'd me about, crying, *' This is he ! " 
 
 Dido. Ah, how could poor iEneas scape their hands ? 
 
 ^n. My mother Venus, jealous of my health, 
 Convey'd me from their crooked nets and bands ; 
 So I escap'd the furious Pyrrhus' wrath ; 
 Who then ran to the palace of the king, 
 And at Jove's altar finding Priamus, 
 About whose withered neck hung Hecuba, 
 Folding his hand in hers, and jointly both 
 Beating their breasts, and falling on the ground, 
 He, with his falchion's point raised up at once. 
 And with Megsera's eyes, star'd in their face. 
 Threatening a thousand deaths at every glance : 
 To whom the aged king thus, trembling, spoke ; 
 '* Achilles' son, remember what I was, 
 Father of fifty sons, but they are slain ; 
 Lord of my fortune, but my fortune's turn'd ; 
 King of this city, but my Troy is fir'd ; 
 And now am neither father, lord, nor king : 
 
154 DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. 
 
 Yet who so wretched but desires to live ? 
 0, let me live, great Neoptolemus ! " 
 Not mov'd at all, but smiling at his tears, 
 This butcher, whilst his hands were yet held up, 
 Treading upon his breast, struck off his hands. 
 
 B'ldo. 0, end J^lneas ! I can hear no more. 
 
 j3in. At which the frantic queen leap'd on his face, 
 And in his eyelids hanging by the nails, 
 A little while prolong'd her husband's life. 
 At last, the soldiers pulled her by the heels, 
 And swung her howling in the empty air. 
 Which sent an echo to the wounded king : 
 Whereat he lifted up his bed-rid limbs, 
 And would have grappled with Achilles' son, 
 Forgetting both his want of strength and hands ; 
 Which he disdaining, whisk'd his sword about, 
 And with the wind thereof the king fell down ; 
 Then from the navel to the throat at once 
 He ripp'd old Priam ; at whose latter gasp 
 Jove's marble statue gan to bend the brow, 
 As loathing Pyrrhus for this wicked act. 
 Yet he, undaunted, took his father's flag, 
 And dipp'd it in the old king's chill-cold blood. 
 And then in triumph ran into the streets, 
 Through which he could not pass for slaughtered men 
 So, leaning on his sword, he stood stone-still, 
 Viewing the fire wherewith rich Ilion burnt. 
 By this, I got my father on my back. 
 This young boy in mine arms, and by the hand 
 
DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. 155 
 
 Led fair Creusa, my beloved wife ; 
 
 When thou, Achates, with thy SAVord mad'st way, 
 
 Aud we were round environ'd with the Greeks : 
 
 0, there I lost my wife ! and, had not we 
 
 Fought manfully, I had not told this tale. 
 
 Yet manhood would not serve ; of force we fled ; 
 
 And, as we went unto our ships, thou know'st 
 
 We saw Cassandra sprawling in the streets, 
 
 Whom Ajax ravish'd in Diana's fane, 
 
 Her cheeks swollen with sighs, her hair all rent ; 
 
 Whom I took up to bear unto our ships ; 
 
 But suddenly the Grecians follow'd us, 
 
 And I, alas, was forc'd to let her lie ! 
 
 Than got we to our ships, and, being aboard, 
 
 Polyxena cried out, " iEneas, stay ! 
 
 The Greeks pursue me ; stay, and take me in ! '^ 
 
 Mov'd with her voice, I leap'd into the sea. 
 
 Thinking to bear her on my back aboard. 
 
 For all our ships were launched into the deep, 
 
 And, as I swom, she, standing on the shore, 
 
 Was by the cruel Myrmidons surpris'd. 
 
 And, after that, by Pyrrhus sacrific'd. 
 
 DIDO REVEALS HER LOVE. 
 
 Act IIL, Scene 2. 
 
 Dido. dull, conceited Dido, that till now 
 Didst never think ^neas beautiful ! 
 But now, for quittance of this oversight. 
 
156 DIDOy QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. 
 
 I'll make me bracelets of his golden hair ; 
 
 His glistering eyes shall be my looking-glass ; 
 
 His lips an altar, where I'll offer up 
 
 As many kisses as the sea hath sands ; 
 
 Instead of music I will hear him speak ; 
 
 His looks shall be my only library ; 
 
 And thou, iEneas, Dido's treasury, 
 
 In whose fair bosom I will lock more wealth 
 
 Than twenty thousand Indias can afford. 
 
 0, here he comes ! Love, love, give Dido leave 
 
 To be more modest than her thoughts admit, 
 
 Lest I be made a wonder to the world. 
 
 Enter .fflNEAS, Achates, Sergestus, Ilioneus, and 
 Cloanthus. 
 
 Achates, how doth Carthage please your lord ? 
 
 Ach. That will -ffineas shew your majesty, 
 
 Dido, ^neas, art thou there ? 
 
 Mn. I understand, your highness sent for me. 
 
 Dido. No ; but, now thou art here, tell me, in 
 sooth, 
 In what might Dido highly pleasure thee. 
 
 uEn. So much have I receiv'd at Dido's hands, 
 As, without blushing, I can ask no more : 
 Yet, queen of Afric, are my ships unrigg'd, 
 My sails all rent in sunder with the wind, 
 My oars broken, and my tackling lost, 
 Yea, all my navy split with rocks and shelves ; 
 
DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE, 157 
 
 Nor stern nor anchor have our maimed fleet ; 
 Our masts the furious winds struck overboard : 
 Which piteous wants if Dido will supply, 
 We will account her author of our lives. 
 
 Dido. jEneas, I'll repair thy Trojan ships, 
 Conditionally that thou wilt stay with me, 
 And let Achates sail to Italy : 
 I'll give thee tackling made of rivell'd gold, 
 Wound on the barks of odoriferous trees ; 
 Oars of massy ivory, full of holes, 
 Through which the water shall delight to play ; 
 Thy anchors shall be hew'd from crystal rocks. 
 Which, if thou lose, shall shine above the waves ; 
 Tlie masts, whereon thy swelling sails shall hang, 
 Hollow pyramides of silver plate ; 
 The sails of folded lawn, where shall be wrought 
 The wars of Troy — but not Troy's overthrow ; 
 For ballass, empty Dido's treasury : 
 Take what ye will, but leave ^ueas here. 
 Achates, thou shalt be so seemly clad, 
 As sea-born nymphs shall swarm about thy ships, 
 And wanton mermaids court thee with sweet songs, 
 Flinging in favours of more sovereign worth 
 Than Thetis hangs about Apollo's neck. 
 So that ^neas may but stay with me. 
 
58 DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. 
 
 DIDO DREADS HER LOVER'S DEPARTURE. 
 
 Act IV. , Scene 4. 
 
 Dido. Speaks not jiEiieas like a conqueror ? 
 blessed tempests that did drive him in ! 
 
 happy sand that made him run aground ! 
 Henceforth you shall be our Carthage gods. 
 Ay, but it may be, he will leave my love, 
 And seek a foreign land call'd Italy : 
 
 0, that I had a charm to keep the winds 
 Within the closure of a golden ball ; 
 Or that the Tyrrhene sea were in mine arms, 
 That he might suffer shipwreck on my breast, 
 As oft as he attempts to hoist up sail ! 
 
 1 must prevent him ; wishing will not serve. — • 
 Go bid my nuise take young Ascanius, 
 
 And bear him in the country to her house ; 
 iEueas will not go without his son; 
 Yet, lest he should, for I am full of fear. 
 Bring me his oars, his tackling, and his sails. 
 
 \Exit First Lord. 
 What if I sink his ships ? 0, he will frown ! 
 Better he frown than I should die for grief. 
 I cannot see him frown ; it may not bo : 
 Armies of foes resolv'd to win this town, 
 Or impious traitors vow'd to have my life, 
 Affright me not ; only iEueas' frown 
 Is that which terrifies poor Dido's heart ; 
 
DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. 159 
 
 Not bloody spears, appearing iu the air, 
 
 Presage the downfall of my empery, ^• 
 
 Nor blazing comets threatened Dido's death ; 
 
 It is Eneas' frown that ends my days. 
 
 If he forsake me not, I never die ; i 
 
 For in his looks I see eternity, \ 
 
 And he'll make me immortal with a kiss. ! 
 
 THE NURSE AS TEMPTEESS. 
 Act IV., Scene 5. 
 
 Enter Nurse, toiili Cupid as Ascanius. 
 
 Nurse. My Lord Ascanius, you must go with me. 
 
 Cup. Whither must I go ? I'll stay with my mother. 
 
 Nurse. No, thou shalt go with me unto my house. 
 I have an orchard that hath store of plums, 
 Brown almonds, services, ripe figs, and dates. 
 Dewberries, apples, yellow oranges ; 
 A garden where are bee-hives full of honey, 
 Musk-roses, and a thousand sort of flowers ; 
 And in the midst doth run a silver stream, 
 Where thou shalt see the red-gill'd fishes leap, 
 White swans, and many lovely water-fowls. 
 Now speak, Ascanius, will you go or no ? 
 
 Cup. Come, come, I'll go. How far hence is your 
 house ? 
 
 Nurse. But hereby, child ; we shall get thither 
 straight. 
 
i6o DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE, 
 
 Cup. Nurse, I am weary ; will you carry me ? 
 
 Nurse. Ay, so you'll dwell with me, and call me 
 mother. 
 
 Cup. So you'll love me, I care not if I do. 
 
 Nurse. That I might live to see this boy a man ! 
 How prettily he laughs ! Go, you wag ! 
 You'll be a twigger when you come to age. — 
 Say Dido what she will, I am not old ; 
 I'll be no more a widow ; I am young ; 
 I'll have a husband, or else a lover. 
 
 Cup. A husband, and no teeth ! 
 
 DIDO'S DESPAIR. 
 
 Act v., Scene 2. 
 
 Dido. Hast thou forgot how many neighbour kings 
 Were up in arms, for making thee my love ? 
 How Carthage did rebel, larbas storm. 
 And all the world call'd me a second Helen, 
 For being entangled by a stranger's looks ? 
 So thou wouldst prove as true as Paris did, 
 Would, as fair Troy was, Carthage might be sack'd, 
 And I be call'd a second Helena ! 
 Had I a son by thee, the grief were less. 
 That I might see ^neas in his face : 
 Now if thou go'st, what canst thou leave behind. 
 But rather will augment than ease my woe ? 
 
DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. i6i 
 
 ^n. In vain, my love, thou spend'st thy fainting 
 breath : 
 If words might move me, I were overcome. 
 
 Dido. And wilt thou not be mov'd with Dido's 
 words ? 
 Thy mother was no goddess, perjur'd man, 
 Nor Dardanus the author of thy stock ; 
 But thou art sprung from Scythian Caucasus, 
 And tigers of Hyrcania gave thee suck.— 
 Ah, foolish Dido, to forbear this long ! — 
 Wast thou not wreck'd upon this Libyan shore, 
 And cam'st to Dido like a fisher swain ? 
 Repair'd not I thy ships, made thee a king, 
 And all thy needy followers noblemen ? 
 
 serpent, that came creeping from the shore. 
 And I for pity harbour'd in my bosom, 
 
 Wilt thou now slay me with thy venom'd sting, 
 And hiss at Dido for preserving thee ? 
 Go, go, and spare not ; seek out Italy : 
 
 1 hope that that which love forbids me do. 
 The rocks and sea-gulfs will perform at large. 
 And thou shalt perish in the billows' ways, 
 To whom poor Dido doth bequeath revenge : 
 A}'', traitor ! and the waves shall cast thee up, 
 Where thou and false Achates first set foot ; 
 Which if it chance, I'll give ye burial, 
 
 And weep upon your lifeless carcasses, 
 
 Though thou nor he will pity me a whit. 
 
 Why star'st thou in my face ? If thou wilt stay, 
 
 (L) 
 
i62 DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. 
 
 Leap in mine arms ; mine arms are open wide ; 
 If not, turn from me, and I'll turn from thee ; 
 For though thou hast the heart to say farewell, 
 I have not power to stay thee. \Ex^ ^neas. 
 
 Is he gone ? 
 Ay, but he'll come again ; he cannot go ; 
 He loves me too-too well to serve me so : 
 Yet he that in my sight would not relent, 
 Will, being absent, be obdurate still. 
 By this, he has got to the water-side ; 
 And, see, the sailors take him by the hand ; 
 But he shrinks back ; and now, remembering me, 
 Returns amain : welcome, welcome, my love ! 
 But Where's iEneas ? ah, he's gone, he's gone ! 
 
 B'ldo. Anna, Anna, I will follow him ! 
 
 Anna. How can you go, when he hath all your fleet ? 
 
 JDxdo. I'll frame me wings of wax, like Icarus, 
 And, o'er his ships, will soar unto the sun, 
 That they may melt, and I fall in his arras ; 
 Or else I'll make a prayer unto the waves, 
 That I may swim to him, like Triton's niece. 
 Anna, fetch Arion's harp, 
 That I may tice a dolphin to the shore, 
 And ride upon his back unto my love ! 
 Look, sister, look ! lovely iEneas' ships ! 
 See, see, the billows heave 'era up to heaven, 
 And now down fall the keels into the deep ! 
 sister, sister, take away the rocks ! 
 
DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. 163 
 
 They'll break his ships. Proteus, Neptune, Jove, 
 
 Save, save ^neas, Dido's liefest love ! 
 
 Now is he come on shore, safe without hurt : 
 
 But, see, Achates wills him put to sea, 1 
 
 And all the sailors merry-make for joy ; \ 
 
 But he, remembering me, shrinks back again : 
 
 See, where he comes ! welcome, welcome, my love 
 
 Anna, Ah, sister, leave these idle fantasies ! 
 Sweet sister, cease ; remember who you are. 
 
 B'ldo. Dido I am, unless I be deceiv'd : i 
 
 And must I rave thus for a runagate ? - \ 
 
 Must I make ships for him to sail away ? < 
 
 Nothing can bear me to him but a ship, . \ 
 
 And he hath all my fleet. What shall I do, | 
 
 But die in fury of this oversight ? f 
 
 Jo ( 
 
 Ay, I must be the murderer of myself ; \ 
 
 No, but I am not ; yet I will be straight. \ 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 THE FIRST SESTIAD. 
 
 The, Argument of the First Sestiad. 
 
 Hero's description and her love's : 
 The fane of Venus, where he moves 
 His worthy love-suit, and attains ; 
 Whose bliss the wrath of Fates restrains 
 For Cupid's grace to Mercury : 
 Which tale the author doth imply. 
 
 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, 
 "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. 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 165 
 
 The outside of her garments were of lawn, 
 The lining purple silk, with gilt stars drawn ; 
 Her wide sleeves green, and border'd with a grove. 
 Where Yenus 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, 
 Made with the blood of wretched lovers slain. 
 Upon her head she ware 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 : 
 Many would praise the sweet smell as she past. 
 When 'twas the odour which her breath forth cast ; 
 And there for honey bees have sought in vain, 
 And, beat from thence, have lighted there again. 
 About her neck hung chains of pebble-stone, 
 Which, lighten'd by her neck, like diamonds shone. 
 She ware no gloves ; for neither sun nor wind 
 Would burn or parch her hands, but, to her mind, 
 Or warm or cool them, for they took delight 
 To play upon those hands, they were so white. 
 Buskins of shells, all silver'd, used she, 
 And branch'd with blushing coral to the knee ; 
 Where sparrows perch'd, of hollow pearl and gold. 
 Such as the world would wonder to behold : 
 Those with sweet water oft her handmaid fills. 
 Which, as she went, would cherup through the bills. 
 Some say, for her the fairest Cupid pin'd, 
 
i66 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 And, looking in her face, was strooken blind. 
 But this is true ; so like was one the other, 
 As he imagin'd Hero was his mother ; 
 And oftentimes into her bosom flew, 
 About her naked neck his bare arms threw, 
 And laid his childish head upon her breast, 
 And, with still panting rock, there took his rest. 
 So lovely-fair was Hero, Venus' nun, 
 As Nature wept, thinking she was undone, 
 Because she took more from her than she left. 
 And of such wondrous beauty her bereft : 
 Therefore, in sign her treasure sulFer'd wrack, 
 Since Hero's time hath half the world been black. 
 
 Amorous Leander, beautiful and young 
 (Whose tragedy divine Musaeus sung), 
 Dwelt at Abydos ; since him dwelt there none 
 For whom succeeding times make greater moan. 
 His dangling tresses, that were never shorn, 
 Had they been cut, and unto Colchos borne, 
 "Would have allured the venturous youth of Greece 
 To hazard more than for the golden fleece. 
 Fair Cynthia wish'd his arms miglit be her sphere ; 
 Grief makes her pale, because she moves not there. 
 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 Pelop's shoulder : I could tell ye, 
 How smooth his breast was, and how white his belly 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 167 
 
 And wliose 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, 
 
 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, 
 
 Died ere he could enjoy the love of any. 
 
 Had wild Hippolytus Leander seen, 
 
 Enamoui-'d of his beauty had he been : 
 
 His presence made the rudest peasant melt, 
 
 That in the vast uplandish country dwelh •• 
 
 The barbarous Thracian soldier, mov'd with nouglit, 
 
 Was mov'd with him, and for his favour sought. 
 
 Some swore he was a maid in man's attire. 
 
 For in his looks were all that men desire — 
 
 A pleasant-smiling cheek, a speaking eye, 
 
 A brow for love to banquet royally ; 
 
 And such as knew he was a man, would say, 
 
 "Leander, thou art made for amorous play : 
 
 Why art thou not in love, and lov'd of all ? 
 
 Though thou be fair, yet be not thine own thrall." 
 
 The men of wealthy Sestos every year, 
 For his sake whom their goddess held so dear, 
 Rose-cheek'd Adonis, kept a solemn feast : 
 Thither resorted many a wandering guest 
 To meet their loves : such as had none at all, 
 
1 68 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 Came lovers home from this great festival ; 
 
 For every street, like to a firmament, 
 
 Glister'd with breathing stars, who, where they went. 
 
 Frighted the melancholy earth, which deem'd 
 
 Eternal heaven to burn, for so it seem'd, 
 
 As if another Phaeton had got 
 
 The guidance of the sun's rich chariot. 
 
 But, far above the loveliest, Hero shin'd, 
 
 And stole away th' enchanted gazer's mind ; 
 
 For like sea-nymphs' inveigling harmony, 
 
 So was her beauty to the standers by ; 
 
 Nor that night- wandering, pale, and watery star 
 
 (When yawning dragons draw her thirling car 
 
 From Latmus' mount up to the gloomy sky, 
 
 "Where, crown'd with blazing light and majesty 
 
 She proudly sits) more overrules the flood 
 
 Than she the hearts of those that near her stood. 
 
 Even as when gaudy nymphs pursue the chase, 
 
 "Wretched Ixion's shaggy-footed race, 
 
 Incens'd with savage heat, gallop amain 
 
 From steep pine-bearing mountains to the plain. 
 
 So ran the people forth to gaze upon her, 
 
 And all that view'd her were enamour'd on her : 
 
 And as in fury of a dreadful fight. 
 
 Their fellows being slain or put to flight, 
 
 Poor soldiers stand with fear of death dead-strooken, 
 
 So at her presence all surpris'd and tooken, 
 
 Await the sentence of her scornful eyes ; 
 
 He whom she favours lives ; the other dies : 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 169 
 
 There might you see one sigh ; another rage ; 
 And some, their violent passions to assuage, 
 Compile sharp satires ; but, alas, too late ! 
 For faithful love will never turn to hate ; 
 And many, seeing great princes were denied, 
 Pin'd as they went, and thinking on her died. 
 On this feast-day — Oli, cursed day and hour ! 
 Went Hero thorough Sestos, from her tower 
 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 overhead 
 A lively vine of green sea-agate spread, 
 Where by one hand light-headed Bacchus hung, 
 And with the other wine from grapes outwrung. 
 Of crystal shining fair the pavement was ; 
 The town of Sestos call'd it Venus' glass : 
 There might you see the gods, in sundry shapes, 
 Committing heady riots, incest, rapes ; 
 For know, that underneath this radiant flour 
 Was Danae's statue in a brazen tower ; 
 Jove slily stealing from his sister's bed, 
 To dally with Idalian Ganymed, 
 And for his love Europa bellowing loud. 
 And tumbling with the Rainbow in a cloud ; 
 Blood-quaffing Mars heaving the iron net 
 Which limping Vulcan and his Cyclops set ; 
 Love kindling fire, to burn such towns as Troy ; 
 
I70 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 Silvanus weeping for the lovely boy 
 
 That now is turn'd into a cypress-tree, 
 
 Under whose shade the wood-gods love to be. 
 
 And in the midst a silver altar stood : 
 
 There Hero, sacrificing turtles' blood, 
 
 Yail'd to the ground, veiling her eyelids close ; 
 
 And modestly they open'd as she rose : 
 
 Thence flew Love's arrow with the golden head ; 
 
 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. 
 
 It lies not in our power to love or hate, 
 For will in us is overrul'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 
 Of two gold ingots, like in each respect : 
 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 ? 
 
 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 ; 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 171 
 
 Wherewith Leander much move was injflam'd. 
 
 He toueh'd her hand ; iu 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. 
 
 Thus while dumb signs their yielding hearts entangled, 
 
 The air with sparks of living fire was spangled : 
 
 And Night, deep-drencli'd iu misty Acheron, 
 
 Heav'd up her head, and half the world upon 
 
 Breath'd darkness forth (dark night is Cupid's day) : 
 
 And now begins Leander to display 
 
 Love's holy fire, with words, Avith sighs, and tears ; 
 
 Which, like sweet music, enter'd Hero's ears ; 
 
 And yet at every word she turn'd aside, 
 
 And always cut him off, as he replied. 
 
 At last, like to a bold sharp sophister, 
 
 With cheerful hope thus he accosted her : 
 
 " Fair creature, let me speak without offence : 
 
 I would my rude words had the influence 
 
 To lead thy thoughts as thy fair looks do mine ! 
 
 Then shouldst thou be his prisoner, who is thine. 
 
 Be not unkind and fair ; misshapen stuff 
 
 Are of behaviour boisterous and rough. 
 
 Oh, shun me not, but hear me ere you go I 
 
 God knows, I cannot force love as you do : 
 
 My words shall be as spotless as my youth. 
 
 Full of simplicity and naked truth. 
 
 This sacrifice, whose sweet perfume descending 
 
 From Venus' altar, to your footsteps bending, 
 
1/2 HERO AND LEANDER, 
 
 Doth testify that you exceed her far, 
 
 To whom you offer, and whose nun you are. 
 
 AVlxy should you worship her ? her you surpass 
 
 As much as sparkling diamonds flaring glass. 
 
 A diamond set in lead his worth retains ; 
 
 A heavenly nymph, belov'd of human swains, 
 
 Receives no blemish, but oftimes more grace ; 
 
 Which makes me hope, although I am but base. 
 
 Base in respect of thee divine and pure, 
 
 Dutiful service may thy love procure ; 
 
 And I in duty will excel all other, 
 
 As thou in beauty dost exceed Love's mother. 
 
 Nor heaven nor thou were made to gaze upon : 
 
 As heaven preserves all things, so save thou one. 
 
 A stately-builded ship, well rigg'd and tall, 
 
 The ocean maketh more majestical : 
 
 Why vow'st thou, then, to live in Sestos here, 
 
 Who on Love's seas more glorious wouldst appear ? 
 
 Like untun'd golden strings all women are. 
 
 Which long time lie untouch'd, will harshly jar. 
 
 Vessels of brass, oft handled, brightly shine : 
 
 What difference betwixt the richest mine 
 
 And basest mould, but use ? for both, not us'd, 
 
 Are of like worth. Then treasure is abus'd, 
 
 When misers keep it : being put to loan, 
 
 In time it will return us two for one. 
 
 Rich robes themselves and others do adorn ; 
 
 Neither themselves nor others, if not worn. 
 
 Who builds a palace, and rams up the gate, 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 173 
 
 Shall see it ruinous and desolate : 
 
 Ah, simple Hero, learn thyself to cherish ! 
 
 Lone women, like to empty houses, perish. 
 
 Less sins the poor rich man, that starves himself 
 
 In heaping up a mass of drossy pelf, 
 
 Than such as you : his golden earth remains, 
 
 "Which, after his decease, some other gains ; 
 
 But this fair gem, sweet in the loss alone. 
 
 When you fleet hence, can be bequeath'd to none ; 
 
 Or, if it could, down from th' enamell'd sky 
 
 All heaven would come to claim this legacy. 
 
 And with intestine broils the world destroy. 
 
 And quite confound Nature's sweet harmony. 
 
 Well therefore by the gods decreed it is, 
 
 We human creatures should enjoy that bliss. 
 
 One is no number ; maids are nothing, then. 
 
 Without the sweet society of men. 
 
 Wilt thou live single still ? one shalt thou be. 
 
 Though never-singling Hymen couple thee. 
 
 Wild savages, that drink of running springs, 
 
 Think water far excels all earthly things ; 
 
 But they, that daily taste neat wine, despise it : 
 
 Virginity, albeit some highly prize it, 
 
 Compar'd with marriage, had you tried them both, 
 
 Differs as much as wine and water doth. 
 
 Base bullion for the stamp's sake we allow : 
 
 Even so for men's impression do we you ; 
 
 By which alone, our reverend fathers say, 
 
 Women receive perfection every way. 
 
174 HERO AND LEANDER, 
 
 This idol, which you term virginity, 
 Is neither essence subject to the eye, 
 r No, nor to any one exterior sense, 
 
 \ Nor hath it any place of residence, 
 
 ? Nor is't of earth or mould celestial, 
 
 Or capable of any form at all. 
 Of that which hath no being, do not boast : 
 \ Things that are not at all, are never lost. 
 
 i Men foolishly do call it virtuous : 
 
 \ What virtue is it, that is born with us ? 
 
 • Much less can honour be ascrib'd thereto : 
 
 \ Honour is purchas'd by the deeds we do ; 
 
 Believe me, Hero, honour is not won, 
 Until some honourable deed be done. 
 j Seek you, for chastity, immortal fame, 
 
 I And know that some have wrong'd Diana's name ? 
 
 f Whose name is it, if she be false or not, 
 
 I So she be fair, but some vile tongues will blot ? 
 
 I But you are fair, ay me ! so wondrous fair, 
 
 I So young, so gentle, and so debonair, 
 
 I As Greece will think, if thus you live alone, 
 
 I Some one or other keeps you as his own. 
 
 I Then, Hero, hate me not, nor from me fly, 
 
 I To follow swiftly-blasting infamy. 
 
 f Perhaps thy secred priesthood makes thee loath : 
 
 \ Tell me to whom mad'st thou that heedless oath ? " 
 
 "To Venus," answer'd she ; and, as she spake. 
 Forth from those two tralucent cisterns brake 
 A stream of liquid pearl, which down her face 
 
HERO AND LEANDER, 175 
 
 Made milk-white paths, whereon the gods might 
 
 trace 
 To Jove's high court. He thus replied : ** The rites 
 In which love's beauteous empress most delights, 
 Are banquets, Doric music, midnight revel. 
 Plays, masks, and all that stern age counteth evil. 
 Thee as a holy idiot doth she scorn ; 
 For thou, in vowing chastity, hast sworn 
 To rob her name and honour, and thereby 
 Committ'st a sin far worse than perjury, 
 Even sacrilege against her deity, 
 Through regular and formal purity. 
 To expiate which sin, kiss and shake hands : 
 Such sacrifice as tliis Venus demands." 
 Thereat she smil'd, and did deny him so, 
 As put thereby, yet might he hope for mo ; 
 Which makes him quickly reinforce his speech. 
 And her in humble manner thus beseech : 
 " Though neither gods nor men may thee deserve, 
 Yet for her sake, whom you have vow'd to serve, 
 Abandon fruitless cold virginity, x 
 
 The gentle queen of love's sole enemy. \ 
 
 Then shall you most resemble Venus' nun. 
 When Venus' sweet rites are perform'd and done. 
 Flint-breasted Pallas joys in single life ; 
 But Pallas and your mistress are at strife. \ 
 
 Love, Hero, then, and be not tyrannous ; 
 But heal the heart that thou hast wounded thus ; 
 Nor stain thy youthful years with avarice : 
 
176 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 Fair fools delight to be accounted nice. 
 
 The richest corn dies, if it be not reapt ; 
 
 Beauty alone is lost, too warily kept." 
 
 These arguments he us'd, and many more ; 
 
 Wherewith she yielded, that was won before. 
 
 Hero's looks yielded, but her words made war : 
 
 Women are won when they begin to jar. 
 
 Thus, having swallow'd Cupid's golden hook. 
 
 The more she striv'd, the deeper was she strook : 
 
 Yet, evilly feigning anger, strove she still, 
 
 And would be thought to grant against her will. 
 
 So having paus'd a while, at last she said, 
 
 " Who taught thee rhetoric to deceive a maid ? 
 
 Ah me ! such words as these should I abhor, 
 
 And yet I like them for the orator." 
 
 With that, Leander stoop'd to have cmbrac'd her, 
 
 But from his spreading arms away she cast her, 
 
 And thus bespake him : *' Gentle youth, forbear 
 
 To touch the sacred garments which I wear. 
 
 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 
 
 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, 
 
 That hops about the chamber where I lie, 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 177 
 
 And spends the night, that might be better spent, 
 
 In vain discourse and apish merriment — 
 
 Come thither." As she spake this, her tongue tripp'd, 
 
 For unawares, " Come thither," from her slipp'd ; 
 
 And suddenly her former colour chang'd. 
 
 And here and there her eyes through anger rang'd ; 
 
 And, like a planet moving several ways, 
 
 At one self instant, she, poor soul, assays. 
 
 Loving, not to love at all, and every part 
 
 Strove to resist the motions of her heart : 
 
 And hands so pure, so innocent, nay, such 
 
 As might have made Heaven stoop to have a touch, 
 
 Did she uphold to Yenus, and again 
 
 Vow'd spotless chastity ; but all in vain ; 
 
 Cupid beats down her prayers with his wings ; 
 
 Her vows about the empty air he jBings : 
 
 All deep enrag'd, his sinewy bow he bent, 
 
 And shot a sliaft that burning from him went ; 
 
 Wherewith she strooken, look'd so dolefully, 
 
 As made Love sigh to see his tyranny ; 
 
 And, as she wept, her tears to pearl he turn'd. 
 
 And wound them on his arm, and for her mourn'd. 
 
 Then towards the palace of the Destinies, 
 
 Laden with languishment and grief, he flies, 
 
 And to those stern nymphs humbly made request, 
 
 Both might enjoy each other, and be blest. 
 
 But with a ghastly dreadful countenance. 
 
 Threatening a thousand deaths at every glance, 
 
 They answer'd Love, nor would vouchsafe so much 
 
 (M) 
 
178 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 As one poor word, their hate to him was sucli : 
 Hearken a while, and I will tell you why. 
 
 Heaven's winged herald, Jove-born Mercury, 
 The self-same day that he asleep had laid 
 Enchanted Argus, spied a country maid, 
 Whose careless hair, instead of pearl t'adorn it, 
 Glister'd with dew, as one that seemed to scorn it ; 
 Hei breath as fragrant as the morning rose ; 
 Her mind pure, and her tongue untaught to glose ; 
 Yet proud she was (for lofty Pride that dwells 
 In towered courts, is oft in shepherds' cells), 
 And too-too well the fair vermilion knew 
 And silver tincture of her cheeks, that drew 
 The love of every swain. On her this god 
 Enamour'd was, and with his snaky rod 
 Did charm her nimble feet, and made her stay, 
 The while upon a hillock down he lay, 
 And sweetly on his pipe began to play. 
 And with smooth speech her fancy to assay. 
 Till in his twining arms he lock'd her fast. 
 And then he woo'd with kisses ; and at last, 
 As shepherds do, her on the ground he laid, 
 And, tumbling in the grass, he often stray'd 
 Beyond the bounds of shame, in being bold 
 To eye those parts which no eye should behold ; 
 And, like an insolent commanding lover. 
 Boasting his parentage, would needs discover 
 The way to new Elysium. But she, 
 "Whose only dower was her chastity, 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 179 
 
 Having striven in vain, was now about to cry, 
 
 And crave the help of shepherds that were nigh. 
 
 Herewith he stay'd his fury, and began 
 
 To give her leave to rise : away she ran ; 
 
 After went Mercury, who used such cunning. 
 
 As she, to hear his tale, left off her running 
 
 (Maids are not won by brutish force and might, 
 
 But speeches full of pleasure and delight) ; 
 
 And, knowing Hermes courted her, was glad 
 
 That she such loveliness and beauty had 
 
 As could provoke his liking ; yet was mute. 
 
 And neither would deny nor grant his suit. 
 
 Still vow'd he love : she, wanting no excuse 
 
 To feed him with delays, as women use, 
 
 Or thirsting after immortality 
 
 (All women are ambitious naturally), 
 
 Impos'd upon her lover such a task. 
 
 As he ought not p&rform, nor yet she ask : 
 
 A draught of flowing nectar she requested 
 
 Wherewith the king of gods and men is feasted : 
 
 He, ready to accomplish what she will'd. 
 
 Stole some from Hebe (Hebe Jove's cup fill'd). 
 
 And gave it to his simple rustic love : 
 
 AVhich being known — as what is hid from Jove ?^ 
 
 He inly storm'd, and wax'd more furious 
 
 Than for the fire filch'd by Prometheus ; 
 
 And thrust him down from heaven. He, wandering 
 
 here. 
 In mournful terms, with sad and heavy cheer, 
 
i8o HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 Complain'd to Cupid : Cupid, for his sake, 
 
 To be reveng'd on Jove did undertake ; 
 
 And those on whom heaven, earth, and hell relies, 
 
 I mean the adamantine Destinies, 
 
 He wounds with love, and forc'd them equally 
 
 To dote upon deceitful Mercury. 
 
 They ofFer'd him the deadly fatal knife 
 
 That shears the slender threads of human life ; 
 
 At his fair-feather'd feet the engines laid, 
 
 Which th' earth from ugly Chaos' den upweigh'd. 
 
 These he regarded not ; but did entreat 
 
 That Jove, usurper of his father's seat. 
 
 Might presently be banish'd into hell, 
 
 And aged Saturn in Olympus dwell. 
 
 They granted what he crav'd ; and once again 
 
 Saturn and Ops began their golden reign : 
 
 Murder, rape, war, and lust, and treachery, 
 
 Were with Jove clos'd in Stygian empery. 
 
 But long this blessed time continu'd not : 
 
 As soon as he his wished purpose got, 
 
 He, reckless of his promise, did despise 
 
 The love of th' everlasting Destinies. 
 
 They, seeing it, both Love and him abhorr'd, 
 
 And Jupiter unto his place restor'd : 
 
 And, but that Learning, in despite of Fate, 
 
 Will mount aloft, and enter heaven-gate, 
 
 And to the seat of Jove itself advance, 
 
 Hermes had slept in hell with Ignorance. 
 
 Yet, as a punishment, they added this, 
 
HERO AND LEANDER, i8i 
 
 That he and Poverty should always kiss ; 
 
 And to this day is every scholar poor : 
 
 Gross gold from them runs headlong to the boor. 
 
 Likewise the angry Sisters, thus deluded, 
 
 To venge themselves on Hermes, have concluded 
 
 That Midas' brood shall sit in Honour's chair, 
 
 To which the Muses' sons are only heir ; 
 
 And fruitful wits, that inaspiring are, 
 
 Shall discontent run into regions far ; 
 
 And few great lords in virtuous deeds shall joy, 
 
 But be surpris'd with every garish toy. 
 
 And still enrich the lofty servile clown, 
 
 Who with encroaching guile keeps learning down. 
 
 Then muse not Cupid's suit no better sped, 
 
 Seeing in their loves the Fates were injured. 
 
 THE SECOND SESTIAD. 
 
 The, Argument of the Second Sestiad. 
 
 ITero of love takes deeper sense, 
 And doth her love more recompense : 
 Their first night's meeting, where sweet kisses 
 Are th' only crowns of both their blisses : 
 He swims t' Abydos, and returns : 
 Cold Neptune with his beauty burns ; 
 Whose suit he shuns, and doth aspire 
 Hero's fair tower and his desire. 
 
 By this, sad Hero, with love unacquainted, 
 Viewing Leander's face, fell down and fainted. 
 He kiss'd her, and breath'd life into her lips ; 
 
1 82 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 Wherewith, as one displcas'd, away she trips ; 
 
 Yet, as she went, full often look'd behind, 
 
 And many poor excuses did she find 
 
 To linger by the way, and once she stay'd. 
 
 And would have turn'd again, but was afraid, 
 
 In offering parley, to be counted light : 
 
 So on she goes, and, in her idle flight, 
 
 Her painted fan of curled plumes let fall, 
 
 Thinking to train Leander therewithal. 
 
 He, being a novice, knew not what she meant. 
 
 But stay'd, and after her a letter sent ; 
 
 Which joyful Hero answer'd in such sort, 
 
 As he had hope to scale the beauteous fort 
 
 Wherein the liberal Graces lock'd their wealth ; 
 
 And therefore to her tower he got by stealth. 
 
 Wide-open stood the door ; he need not climb ; 
 
 And she herself, before the 'pointed time, 
 
 Had spread the board, with roses strew'd the room, 
 
 And oft look'd out, and mus'd he did not come. 
 
 At last he came : 0, who can toll the greeting 
 
 These greedy lovers had at their first meeting ? 
 
 He ask'd ; she gave ; and nothing was denied ; 
 
 Both to each other quickly were affied : 
 
 Look how their hands, so were their hearts united, 
 
 And what he did, she willingly requited. 
 
 (Sweet are the kisses, the embracements sweet, 
 
 When like desires and like affections meet ; 
 
 For from the earth to heaven is Cupid rais'd. 
 
 When fancy is in equal balance pais'd.) 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 183 
 
 Yet she this rashness suddenly repented, 
 
 And turn'd aside, and to herself lamented. 
 
 As if her name and honour had been wrong'd 
 
 By being possess'd of him for whom she long'd ; 
 
 A)--, and she wish'd, albeit not from her heart, 
 
 That he would leave her turret and depart. 
 
 The mirthful god of amorous ]tleasure smil'd 
 
 To see how he this captive nymph beguil'd ; 
 
 For hitherto he did but fan the fire, 
 
 And kept it down, that it might mount the higher. 
 
 Now wax'd she jealous lest his love abated, 
 
 Fearing her own thoughts made her to be hated. 
 
 Therefore unto him hastily she goes. 
 
 And, like light Salmacis, her body throws 
 
 Upon his bosom, where with yielding eyes 
 
 She offers up herself a sacrifice 
 
 To slake his anger, if he were displeas'd : 
 
 0, what god would not therewith be appeas'd ? 
 
 Like ^sop's cock, this jewel he enjoy'd, 
 
 And as a brother with his sister toy'd. 
 
 Supposing nothing else was to be done, 
 
 Now he her favour and goodwill had won. 
 
 But know you not that creatures wanting sense. 
 
 By nature have a mutual appetence, 
 
 And, wanting organs to advance a step, 
 
 ^Mov'd by love's force, unto each other lep ? 
 
 ]\tuch more in subjects having intellect 
 
 Some hidden influence breeds like effect. 
 
 Albeit Leander, rude in love and raw. 
 
1 84 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 Long dallying with Hero, nothing saw 
 
 That might delight him more, yet he suspected 
 
 Some amorous rites or other were neglected. 
 
 Therefore unto his body hers he clung : 
 
 She, fearing on the rushes to be flung, 
 
 Striv'd with redoubled strength ; the more she striv'd, 
 
 The more a gentle pleasing heat reviv'd, 
 
 Which taught him all that elder lovers know ; 
 
 And now the same gan so to scorch and glow. 
 
 As in plain terms, yet cunningly, he crave it : 
 
 Love always makes those eloquent that have it. 
 
 She, with a kind of granting, put him by it, 
 
 And ever, as he thought himself most nigh it. 
 
 Like to the tree of Tantalus, she fled, 
 
 And, seeming lavish, sav'd her maidenhead. 
 
 Ne'er king more sought to keep his diadem. 
 
 Than Hero this inestimable gem : 
 
 Above our life we love a steadfast friend ; 
 
 Yet when a token of great worth we send. 
 
 We often kiss it, often look thereon. 
 
 And stay the messenger that would be gone ; 
 
 No marvel, then, though Hero would not yield 
 
 So soon to part from that she dearly held : 
 
 Jewels being lost are found again ; this never ; 
 
 'Tis lost but once, and once lost, lost for ever. 
 
 Now had the Morn espied her lover's steeds ; 
 Whereat she starts, puts on her purple weeds. 
 And, red for anger that he stay'd so long, 
 All headlong throws herself the clouds among. 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 185 
 
 And now Leander, fearing to be miss'd, 
 
 Embrac'd her suddenly, took leave, and kiss'd : 
 
 Long was he taking leave, and loath to go, 
 
 And kiss'd again, as lovers use to do. 
 
 Sad Hero wrung him by the hand, and wept, 
 
 Saying, " Let your vows and promises be kept : " 
 
 Then standing at the door, she turned about. 
 
 As loath to see Leander going out. 
 
 And now the sun that througli th' horizon peeps, 
 
 As pitying these lovers, downward creeps ; 
 
 So that in silence of the cloudy night. 
 
 Though it was morning, did he take his flight. 
 
 But what the secret trusty night conceal'd, 
 
 Leander's amorous habit soon reveal'd : 
 
 With Cupid's myrtle was his bonnet crown'd, 
 
 About his arms the purple riband wound. 
 
 Wherewith she wreath'd her largely-spreading hair ; 
 
 Nor could the youth abstain, but he must wear 
 
 The sacred ring wherewith she was endow'd, 
 
 AVhen first religious chastity she vow'd ; 
 
 Which made his love through Sestos to be known, 
 
 And thence unto Abydos sooner blown 
 
 Than he could sail ; for incorporeal Fame, 
 
 Whose weight consists in nothing but her name. 
 
 Is swifter than the wind, whose tardy plumes 
 
 Are reeking water and dull earthly fumes. 
 
 Home when he came, he seem'd not to be there, 
 But, like exiled air, thrust from his sphere. 
 Set in a foreign place ; and straight from thence, 
 
i86 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 Alcides-like, by mighty violence, 
 
 He would have chas'd away the swelling main, 
 
 That him from her unjustly did detain. 
 
 Like as the sun in a diameter 
 
 Fires and inflames objects removed far, 
 
 And heateth kindly, shining laterally ; 
 
 So beauty sweetly quickens when 'tis nigh, 
 
 But being separated and remov'd, 
 
 Burns where it cherish'd, murders where it lov'd. 
 
 Therefore even as an index to a book, 
 
 So to his mind was young Leander's look. 
 
 Oh, none but gods have power their love to hide ! 
 
 Affection by the countenance is descried ; 
 
 The light of hidden fire itself discovers, 
 
 And love that is couceal'd betrays poor lovers. 
 
 His secret flame apparently was seen : 
 
 Leander's father knew where he had been, 
 
 And for the same mildly rebuk'd his son, 
 
 Thinking to quench the sparkles new-begun. 
 
 But love resisted once, grows passionate, 
 
 And nothing more than counsel lovers hate ; 
 
 For as a hot proud horse highly disdains 
 
 To have his head controll'd, but breaks the reins. 
 
 Spits forth the ringled bit, and with his hoves 
 
 Checks the submissive ground ; so he that loves, 
 
 The more he is restrained, the worse he fares : 
 
 "What is it now but mad Leander dares ? 
 
 *' Hero, Hero ! " thus he cried full oft ; 
 
 And then he got him to a rock aloft, 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 187 
 
 Where having spied her tower, long star'd he on't, 
 And pray'd the narrow toiling Hellespont 
 To part in twain, that he might come and go ; 
 But still the rising billows answer'd, " No." 
 With that, he stripp'd him to the ivory skin, 
 And, crying " Love, I come," leap'd lively in : 
 "Whereat the sapphire-visag'd god grew proud, 
 And made his capering Triton sound aloud, 
 Imagining that Ganymede, displeas'd, 
 Had left the heavens ; therefore on him he seized. 
 Leander striv'd ; the waves about him wound, 
 And pull'd him to the bottom, where the ground 
 AVas strew'd with pearl, and in low coral groves 
 Sweet-singing mermaids sported with their loves 
 On heaps of heavy gold, and took great pleasure 
 To spurn in careless sort the shipwreck treasure ; 
 For here the stately azure palace stood, 
 Where kingly Neptune and his train abode. 
 The lusty god embrac'd him, call'd him " love," 
 And swore he never should return to Jovo : 
 But when he knew it was not Ganymed, 
 For under water he was almost dead. 
 He heav'd him up, and, looking on his face, 
 Beat down tlie bold waves with his triple mace, 
 Which mounted up, intending to have kiss'd him, 
 And fell in drops like tears because they miss'd him. 
 Leander, being up, began to swim, 
 And, looking back, saw Neptune follow him : 
 Whereat, aghast, the poor soul gan to cry. 
 
1 88 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 "0, let me visit Hero ere I die ! " 
 
 The god put Helle's bracelet on his arm, 
 
 And swore the sea should never do him harm. 
 
 He clapp'd his plump cheeks, with his tresses play'd, 
 
 And, smiling wantonly, his love bewray'd ; 
 
 He watched his arms, and, as they open'd wide 
 
 At every stroke, betwixt them would he slide, 
 
 And steal a kiss, and then run out and dance. 
 
 And, as he turn'd, cast many a lustful glance. 
 
 And throw him gaudy toys to please his eye, 
 
 And dive into the water, and there pry 
 
 Upon his breast, his thighs, and every limb, 
 
 And up again, and close beside him swim, 
 
 And talk of love. Leander made reply, 
 
 "You are deceiv'd ; I am no woman, I." 
 
 Thereat smil'd Neptune, and then told a tale, 
 
 How that a shepherd, sitting in a vale, 
 
 Play'd with a boy so lovely-fair and kind, 
 
 As for his love both earth and heaven pin'd ; 
 
 That of the cooling river durst not drink, 
 
 Lest water nymphs should pull him from the brink ; 
 
 And when he sported in the fragrant lawns. 
 
 Goat-footed Satyrs and up-staring Fauns 
 
 "Would steal him thence. Ere half this tale was done, 
 
 "Ay me," Leander cried, " th' enamour'd sun, 
 
 That now should shine on Thetis' glassy bower, 
 
 Descends upon my radiant Hero's tower : 
 
 0, that these tardy arms of mine were wings ! " 
 
 And, as he spake, upon the waves he springs. 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 189 
 
 Neptune was angry that he gave no ear, 
 
 And in his heart revenging malice bare : 
 
 He flung at him his mace ; but, as it went, 
 
 He call'd it in, for love made him repent : 
 
 The mace, returning back, his own hand hit, 
 
 As meaning to be veng'd for darting it. 
 
 "When this fresli-bleeding wound Leander view'd, 
 
 His colour went and came, as if he ru'd 
 
 The grief which Neptune felt : in gentle breasts 
 
 Relentless thoughts, remorse, and pity rests ; 
 
 And who have hard hearts and obdurate minds. 
 
 But vicious, hare-brain'd, and illiterate hinds ? 
 
 The god, seeing hira with pity to be mov'd. 
 
 Thereon concluded that he was belov'd 
 
 (Love is too full of faith, too credulous, 
 
 With folly and false hopes deluding us) ; 
 
 Wherefore, Leander's fancy to surprise. 
 
 To the rich ocean for gifts he flies : 
 
 'Tis wisdom to give much ; a gift prevails 
 
 When deep-persuading oratory fails. 
 
 By this, Leander, being near the land. 
 Cast down his weary feet, and felt the sand. 
 Breathless albeit he were, he rested not 
 Till to the solitary tower he got ; 
 And knock'd, and call'd : at which celestial noise 
 The longing heart of Hero much more joys, 
 Than nymphs and shepherds when the timbrel rings. 
 Or crookM dolphin when the sailor sings. 
 She stay'd not for her robes, but straight arose, 
 
190 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 And, drunk with gladness, to the door she goes ; ^ 
 
 Where seeing a naked man, she screech'd for fear 
 
 (Such sights as this to tender maids are rare), 
 
 And ran into the dark herself to hide 
 
 (Rich jewels in the dark are soonest spied). 
 
 Unto her was he led, or rather drawn, 
 
 By those white limbs which sparkled through th( 
 
 lawn. 
 And nearer that he came, the more she fled. 
 And, seeking refuge, slipt into her bed ; 
 "Whereon Leander sitting, thus began. 
 Through numbing cold, all feeble, faint, and wan : 
 " If not for love, yet, love, for pity-sake. 
 Me in thy bed and maiden bosom take ; 
 At least vouchsafe these arms some little room. 
 Who, hoping to embrace tliee, cheerly swoom : 
 This head was beat with many a churlish billow, 
 And therefore let it rest upon thy pillow." 
 Herewith alfrighted, Hero shrunk away. 
 And in her lukewarm place Leander lay ; 
 Whose lively heat, like fire fi'om heaven fet, 
 Would animate gross clay, and higher set 
 The drooping thoughts of base-declining souls, 
 Than dreary-Mars-caroasing nectar bowls. 
 His hands he cast upon her like a snare : 
 She, overcome with shame and sallow fear, 
 Like chaste Diana when ActiBon spied her. 
 Being suddenly betray'd, div'd down to hide her ; 
 And, as her silver body downward went, 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 191 
 
 With both her hands she made the bed a tent, 
 
 And in her own mind thought herself secure, 
 
 O'ercast with dim and darksome overture. 
 
 And now she lets him whisper in her ear, 
 
 Flatter, entreat, promise, protest, and swear ; 
 
 Yet ever, as he greedily assay'd 
 
 To touch those dainties, she the harpy play VI, 
 
 And every limb did, as a soldier stout. 
 
 Defend the fort, and keep the foeraan out ; 
 
 For though the rising ivory mount he scaled, - 
 
 Which is with azure circling lines empal'd. 
 
 Much like a globe (a globe may I term this, 
 
 By which Love sails to regions full of bliss), 
 
 Yet there with Sisyphus he toil'd in vain, 
 
 The gentle parley did the truce obtain. 
 
 Even as a bird, which in our hands we wring. 
 
 Forth plungeth, and oft flutters with her wing, 
 
 She trembling strove : this strife of hers, like that 
 
 Wliich made the world, another world begat 
 
 Of unknown joy. Treason was in her thought. 
 
 And cunningly to yield herself she sought. 
 
 Seeming not won, yet won she was at length : 
 
 In such wars women use but half their strength. 
 
 Leander now, like Theban Hercules, 
 
 Enter'd the orchard of the Hcsperides ; 
 
 Whose fruit none rightly can describe, but he 
 
 That pulls or shakes it from the golden tree. 
 
 Wherein Leander, on her quivering breast, 
 
 Breathless spoke something, and sigh'd out the rest ; 
 
192 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 "Which so prevailed, as he, with small ado, 
 
 Enclos'd her in his arras, and kiss'd her too: 
 
 And every kiss to her was as a charm, 
 
 And to Leander as a fresh alarm : 
 
 So that the truce was broke, and she, alas, 
 
 Poor silly maiden, at his mercy was. 
 
 Love is not full of pity, as men say, 
 
 But deaf and cruel where he means to prey. 
 
 And now she wish'd this night were never done, 
 
 And sighed to think upon th' approaching sun ; 
 
 For much it griev'd her that the bright daylig'it 
 
 Should know the pleasure of this blessed night. 
 
 And them, like Mars and Erycine, display 
 
 Both in each other's arms chain'd as they lay. 
 
 Again, she knew not how to frame her look, 
 
 Or speak to him, who in a moment took 
 
 That which so long, so charily she kept ; 
 
 And fain by stealth away she would have crept, 
 
 And to some corner secretly have gone, 
 
 Leaving Leander in the bed alone. 
 
 But as her naked feet were whipping out, 
 
 He on the sudden cling'd her so about. 
 
 That mermaid-like, unto the floor she slid ; 
 
 One half appear'd, the other half was hid. 
 
 Thus near the bed she blushing stood upright, 
 
 And from her countenance behold ye might 
 
 A kind of twilight break, which through the air, 
 
 As from an orient cloud, glimps'd here and there ; 
 
 And round about the chamber this false morn 
 
HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 193 
 
 Brought forth the day before the day was born. 
 So Hero's ruddy cheek Hero betray'd, 
 And her all naked to his sight display'd : 
 Whence his admiring eyes more pleasure took 
 Than Dis, on heaps of gold fixing his look. 
 By this, Apollo's golden harp began 
 To sound forth music to the ocean ; 
 Which watchful Hesperus no sooner heard, 
 Bat he the bright Day-bearing car prepar'd, 
 And ran before, as harbinger of light, 
 And with his flaring beams raock'd ugly Night, 
 Till she o'ercome with anguish, shame, and rage, 
 Dang'd down to hell her loathsome carriage. 
 
 (^) 
 
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, 
 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 ; 
 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, 
 With buckles of the purest gold ; 
 
THE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE. 195 
 
 A belt of straw and ivy-buds, 
 With coral clasps and amber studs : 
 An if these pleasures may thee move, 
 Come live with me, and be my love. 
 
 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. 
 
FRAGMENT. 
 
 IWALK'D along a stream, for pureness rare, 
 Brighter than sunshine ; for it did acquaint 
 Tlie dullest sight with all the glorious prey 
 Tliat in the pebble-paved channel lay. 
 
 No molten crystal, but a richer mine. 
 
 Even Nature's rarest alcliymy ran there — 
 
 Diamonds resolv'd, and substance more divine, 
 Through whose bright-gliding current might 
 appear 
 
 A thousand naked nymphs, whose ivory shine. 
 Enamelling the banks, made them more dear 
 
 Than ever was that glorious palace gate 
 
 Where the day-shining Sun in triumph sate. 
 
 Upon this brim the eglantine and rose. 
 The tamarisk, olive, and the almond tree, 
 
 As kind companions, in one union grows. 
 Folding their twining arms, as oft we see 
 
 Turtle-taught lovers either other close, 
 Lending to dulness feeling sympathy ; 
 
 And as a costly valance o'er a bed, 
 
 So did their garland-tops the brook o'erspread. 
 
FRAGMENT. 
 
 197 
 
 Their leaves, that difFer'd both in shape and show, 
 Though all were green, yet difference such in green, 
 
 Like to the checker'd bent of Iris' bow, 
 Prided the running main, as it had been. 
 
ELEGIES. 
 
 IN MORTEM PSITTACI. 
 
 THE parrot, from East India to me sent, 
 Is dead : all fowls, her exequies frequent ! 
 Go, godly birds, striking your breasts, bewail, 
 And with rough claws your tender cheeks assail. 
 For woful hairs let piece-torn plumes abound ; 
 For long shrild trumpets let your notes resound. 
 Why, Philomel, dost Tereus' lewdness mourn ? 
 All-wasting years have that complaint now worn : 
 Thy tunes let this rare bird's sad funeral borrow, 
 Itys a great, but ancient cause of sorrow. 
 All you whose pinions in the clear air soar, 
 But most, thou friendly turtle-dove, deplore : 
 Full concord all your lives was you betwixt, 
 And to the end your constant faith stood fixt ; 
 "What Pylades did to Orestes prove, 
 Such to the parrot was the turtle-dove. 
 But what avail'd this faith ? her rarest hue ? 
 Or voice that how to change the wild notes knew? 
 
ELEGIES, 199 
 
 "What helps it thou wert given to please my wench ? 
 
 Birds' hapless glory, death thy life doth quench. 
 
 Thou with thy quills raightst make green emeralds dark. 
 
 And pass our scarlet of red saffron's mark. 
 
 No such voice-feigning bird was on the ground ; 
 
 Thou spok'st thy words so well with stammering sound. 
 
 Envy hath rapt thee : no fierce wars thou mov'd'st ; 
 
 Vain-babbling speech and pleasant peace thou lov'd'st. 
 
 Behold, how quails among their battles live ! 
 
 Which do perchance old age unto them give. 
 
 A little fill'd thee ; and, for love of talk. 
 
 Thy mouth to taste of many meats did balk. 
 
 Nuts were thy food, and poppy caus'd thee sleep ; 
 
 Pure water's moisture thirst away did keep. 
 
 The ravenous vulture lives ; the puttock hovers 
 
 Around the air ; the cadess rain discovers ; 
 
 And crow survives arms-bearing Pallas' hate, 
 
 Whose life nine ages scarce bring out of date. 
 
 Dead is that speaking image of man's voice, 
 
 The parrot given me, the far world's best choice. 
 
 The greedy spirits take the best things first, 
 
 Supplying their void places with the worst. 
 
 Thersites did Protesilaus survive ; 
 
 And Hector died, his brothers yet alive. 
 
 My wench's vows for thee what should I show, 
 
 Which stormy south winds into sea did blow % 
 
 The seventh day came ; none following mightst thou 
 
 see ; 
 And the Fate's distaff empty stood to thee. 
 
200 ELEGIES. 
 
 Yet words in thy benummed palate run^ ; 
 "Farewell, Corinna," cried thy dying tongue, 
 Elysium hath a wood of holm trees black, 
 Whose earth doth not perpetual green grass lack. 
 There good birds rest (if we believe things hidden), 
 "Whence unclean fowls are said to be fortidden. 
 There harmless swans feed all abroad the river ; 
 There lives the phoenix, one alone bird ever ; 
 There Juno's bird displays his gorgeous feather, 
 And loving doves kiss eagerly together. 
 The parrot, into wood receiv'd with these, 
 Turns all the godly birds to what she please. 
 A grave her bones hides : on her corps' great grave, 
 The little stones these little verses have — 
 Tills tomb approves I pleas' d my mistress well ; 
 My mouth in speaking did all birds excel. 
 
 AD AMNEM, DUM ITER FACERET AD AMICAM. 
 
 Flood with reed-grown slime banks, till I be past, 
 
 Thy waters stay ; I to my mistress hast. 
 
 Thou hast no bridge, nor boat with ropes to throw. 
 
 That may transport me, without oars to row. 
 
 Thee I have pass'd, and knew thy stream none such, 
 
 When thy wave's brim did scarce my ankles touch. 
 
 With snow thavv'd from the next hill now thou gushest, 
 
 And in thy foul deep waters thick thou rushest. 
 
ELEGIES. 20I 
 
 What helps my haste ? what to have ta'en small 
 
 rest? 
 What daj'' and night to travel in her quest % 
 If, standing here, I can by no means get 
 My foot upon the further bank to set. 
 Now wish I those wings noble Perseus had, 
 Bearing the head with dreadful adders clad ; 
 Now wish the chariot whence corn-fields were fouml 
 First to be thrown upon the untill'd ground : 
 I speak old poets' wonderful inventions ; 
 Ne'er was, nor [e'er] shall be, what my verse mentions. 
 Rather, thou large bank-overflowing river, 
 Slide in thy bounds ; so shalt thou run for ever. 
 Trust me, land-stream, thou shalt no envy lack. 
 If I a lover be by thee held back. 
 Great floods ought to assist young men in love ; 
 Great floods the force of it do often prove. 
 In mid Bithynia, 'tis said, Inachus 
 Grew pale, and, in cold fords, hot lecherous. 
 Troy had not yet been ten years' siege' outstander, 
 When nymph Nesera rapt thy looks, Scamander. 
 What, not Alpheus in strange lands to run, 
 Th' Arcadian virgin's constant love hath won ? 
 And Crusa unto Xanthus first affied, 
 They say, Peneus near Phthia's town did hide. 
 What should I name Asop, that Thebe lov'd, 
 Thebe, who mother of five daughters prov'd ? 
 If, Achelbus, I ask where thy horns stand, 
 Thou say'st, broke with Alcides' angry hand. 
 
202 ELEGIES. 
 
 iSTot Calydon nor iEtolia did please ; 
 
 One Deiauira was more worth than these. 
 
 Rich Nile, by seven mouths to the vast sea flowing, 
 
 "Who so well keeps his water's head from knowing, 
 
 Is by Evadne thought to take such flame, 
 
 As his deep whirlpools could not quench the same. 
 
 Dry Enipeus, Tyro to embrace, 
 
 Fly back his stream charg'd ; the stream charg'd, gave 
 
 place. 
 Nor pass I thee, who hollow rocks down tumbling, 
 In Tibur's field with watery foam art rumbling ; 
 Whom Ilia pleas'd, though in her looks grief revell'd. 
 Her cheeks were scratch'd, her goodly hairs dishevell'd. 
 She, wailing Mars' sin and her uncle's crime, 
 Stray'd barefoot through sole places on a time. 
 Her, from his swift waves, the bold flood perceiv'd, 
 And from the mid ford his hoarse voice upheav'd, 
 Saying, " Why sadly tread'st my banks upon, 
 Ilia, sprung from Idaeau Laomedon ? 
 Where's thy attire % why wander'st here alone ? 
 To stay thy tresses white veil hast thou none ? 
 Why weep'st, and spoil'st with tears thy watery eyes ? 
 And fiercely knock'st thy breast that open lies ? 
 His heart consists of flint and hardest steel, 
 That, seeing thy tears, can any joy then feel. 
 Fear not : to thee our court stands open wide ; 
 There shalt be lov'd : Ilia, lay fear aside. 
 Thou o'er a hundred nymphs or more shalt reign. 
 For five-score nymphs or more our floods contain. 
 
ELEGIES. 203 
 
 Nor, Roman stock, scorn me so mucl), I crave : 
 
 Gifts than my promise greater thou shalt have." 
 
 This said he. She her modest eyes held down ; 
 
 Her woful bosom a warm shower did drown. 
 
 Thrice she prepar'd to fly, thrice she did stay, 
 
 By fear depriv'd of strength to run aAvay. 
 
 Yet, rending with enraged thumb her tresses, 
 
 Her trembling mouth these unmeet sounds expresses : 
 
 " 0, would in my forefathers' tomb dee]) laid 
 
 My bones had been, while yet I was a maid I 
 
 Why, being a vestal, am I woo'd to wed, 
 
 Deflower'd and stained in unlawful bed ? 
 
 Why stay I ? men point at me for a whore ; 
 
 Shame, that should make me blush, I have no more." 
 
 This said, her coat hoodwiuk'd her fearful eyes, 
 
 And into water desperately she flies. 
 
 'Tis said the slippery stream held up her breast, 
 
 And kindly gave her what she liked best. 
 
 And I believe some wench thou hast affected ; 
 
 But woods and groves keep your faults undetected. 
 
 While thus I speak, the waters more abounded, 
 
 And from the channel all abroad surrounded. 
 
 Mad stream, why dost our mutual joys defer ? 
 
 Clown, from my journey why dost me deter ? 
 
 How wouldst thou flow, wert thou a noble flood ? 
 
 If thy great fame in every region stood ? 
 
 Thou hast no name, but com'st from snowy mountains ; 
 
 No certain house thou hast, nor any fountains ; 
 
 Thy springs are naught but rain and melted snow. 
 
204 ELEGIES. 
 
 Which wealth cold winter doth on thee bestow. 
 Either thou'rt muddy in mid-winter tide, 
 Or, full of dust, dost on the dry earth slide. 
 What thirsty traveller ever drunk of thee ? 
 Who said with grateful voice, " Perpetual be ? " 
 Harmful to beasts and to the fields thou proves : 
 Perchance these others, me mine own loss moves. 
 To this I fondly loves of floods told plainly ; 
 I shame so great names to have us'd so vainly. 
 I know not what expecting, I erewhile 
 Nam'd Achelous, Inachus, and Nile. 
 But for thy merits I wish thee, white stream, 
 Dry winters aye, and suns in heat extreme. 
 
 TIBTJLLI MORTEM DEFLET. 
 
 If Thetis and the Morn their sons did wail, 
 And envious Fates great goddesses assail, 
 Sad Elegy, thy woful Lairs unbind : 
 Ah, now a name too true thou hast I find ! 
 Tibullus, thy work's poet, and thy fame, 
 Burns his dead body in the funeral flame. 
 Lo, Cupid brings his quiver spoiled quite, 
 His broken bow, his firebrand without light I 
 How piteously with drooping wings he stands, 
 And knocks his bare breast with self-angry hands I 
 The locks spread on his neck receive his tears, 
 And shaking sobs his mouth for speeches bears : 
 
ELEGIES. 205 
 
 So at Eneas' burial, men report, 
 
 Fair-fac'd liilus, he went forth thy court : 
 
 And Venus' grieves, TibuUus' life being spent, 
 
 As when the wild boar Adon's groin had rent. 
 
 The gods' care we are call'd, and men of piety, 
 
 And some there be that think we have a deity. 
 
 Outrageous death profanes all holy things, 
 
 And on all creatures obscure darkness brings. 
 
 To Thracian Orpheus what did parents good, 
 
 Or songs amazing wild beasts of the wood ? 
 
 AVhere Linus, by his father Phoebus laid, 
 
 To sing with his unequall'd harp is said. 
 
 See, Homer, from whose fountain ever fill'd 
 
 Pierian dew to poets is distill'd ! 
 
 Him the last day in black Avern hath drown'd : 
 
 A'erses alone are with continuance crown'd. 
 
 The work of poets lasts ; Troy's labour's fame. 
 
 And that slow web night's falsehood did unframe. 
 
 So Nemesis, so Delia famous are ; 
 
 The one his first love, th' other his new care. 
 
 What profit to us hath our pure life bred 1 
 
 V/hat to have lain alone in empty bed ? 
 
 When bad Fates take good men, I am forbod 
 
 By secret thoughts to think there is a god. 
 
 Live godly, thou shalt die ; though honour heaven, 
 
 Yet shall thy life be forcibly bereaven : 
 
 Trust in good verse, Tibullus feels death's pains ; 
 
 Scarce rests of all what a small urn contains. 
 
 Thee, sacred poet, could sad flames destroy % 
 
2o6 ELEGIES. 
 
 Nor fearM they thy body to annoy ? 
 
 The holy gods' gilt temples they might fire, 
 
 That durst to so great wickedness aspire. 
 
 Eryx' bright empress turn'd her looks aside, 
 
 And some, tiiat she refrain'd tears, have denied. 
 
 Yet better is't, than if Corcyra's isle 
 
 Had thee unknown interr'd in ground most vile. 
 
 Thy dying eyes here did thy mother close, 
 
 Nor did thy ashes her last offerings lose. 
 
 Part of her sorrow here thy sister bearing, 
 
 Comes forth, her unkemb'd locks asunder tearing. 
 
 Nemesis and thy first wench join their kisses 
 
 With thine, nor this last fire their presence misses. 
 
 Delia departing, " Happier lov'd," she saith, 
 
 •'Was I: thou liv'dst, while thou esteem'd'st my 
 
 faith." 
 Nemesis answers, " What's my loss to thee ? 
 His fainting hand in death engrasped me." 
 If aught remains of us but name and spirit, 
 TibuUus doth Elysium's joy inherit. 
 Their youthful brows with ivy girt, to meet him, 
 With Calvus, learn'd Catullus comes and greet him ; 
 And thou, if falsely charg'd to wrong thy friend, 
 Gallus, that car'd'st not blood and life to spend. 
 With these thy soul walks, souls if death release : 
 The godly sweet Tibullus doth increase. 
 Thy bones, I pray, may in the urn safe rest, 
 And may th' earth's weight thy ashes naught molest ! 
 
ELEGIES, 207 
 
 DKLTBERA'iIO POET^, UTRUM ELEGOS PERGAT SCRIBERR 
 AN POTIUS TRAG(EDIAS. 
 
 An" old wood stands, uncut of long years' space : 
 *Tis credible some god-head haunts the place ; 
 In midst thereof a stone-pav'd sacred spring, 
 Where round about small birds most sweetly sing. 
 Here while I walk, hid close in shady grove, 
 To find what work my Muse might move, I strove, 
 Elegia came with hairs perfumed sweet, 
 And one, I think, was longer, of her feet : 
 A decent form, thin robe, a lover's look ; 
 By her foot's blemish greater grace she took. 
 
 ' Then with huge steps came violent Tragedy : 
 Stern was her front, her cloak on ground did lie ; 
 Her left hand held abroad a regal sceptre ; 
 The Lydian buskin in fit paces kept her. 
 And first she said, " When will thy love be spent, 
 poet careless of thy argument % 
 Wine-bibbing banquets tell thy naughtiness, 
 Each cross-way's corner doth as much express. 
 Oft some points at the prophet passing by. 
 And * this is he whom fierce love burns,' they cry. 
 A laughing stock thou art to all the city, 
 While without shame thou sing'st thy lewdness ditty. 
 
 " 'Tis time to move grave things in lofty style ; 
 Long hast thou loiter'd ; greater works compile. 
 The subject hides thy wit : men's acts resound ; 
 
2o8 ELEGIES. 
 
 This thou wilt say to be a worthy ground. 
 
 Thy Muse hath play'd what may mild girls content, 
 
 And by those numbers is thy first youth spent. 
 
 Now give the Roman Tragedy a name ; 
 
 To fill my laws thy wanton spirit frame." 
 
 This said, she mov'd her buskins gaily varnish'd, 
 
 And seven times shook her head with thick locks 
 
 garnish'd. 
 The other smiled (I wot) with wanton eyes : 
 Err I, or myrtle in her right hand lies ? 
 " With lofty words, stout Tragedy," she said, 
 "Why treadest me down ? art thou aye gravely playM ? 
 Thou deign'st unequal lines should thee rehearse ; 
 Thou fight'st against me, using mine own verse. 
 Thy lofty style with mine I not compare : 
 Small doors unfitting for large houses are. 
 Light am I, and with me, my care, light Love ; 
 Not stronger am I than the thing I move. 
 Venus without me should be rustical ; 
 This goddess' company doth to me befal. 
 What gate thy stately words cannot unlock, 
 My flattering speeches soon wide-open knock. 
 And I deserve more than thou canst in verity, 
 By suffering much not borne by thy severity. 
 By me Corinna learns, co2;ening her guard, 
 To get the door with little noise unbarr'd ; 
 And slipp'd from bed, cloth'd in a loose night-gown, 
 To move her feet unheard in setting down. 
 Ah, how oft on hard doors hung I engrav'd. 
 
ELEGIES. 209 
 
 From no man's reading fearing to be sav'd ! 
 
 But, till the keeper went forth, I forget not, 
 
 The maid to hide me in her bosom let not. 
 
 What gift with me was on her birthday sent, 
 
 But cruelly by her was drown'd and rent ; 
 
 First of thy mind the happy seeds I knew ; 
 
 Thou hast my gift, which she would from thee sue." 
 
 She left. I said, "You both I must beseech, 
 
 To empty air may go my fearful speech. 
 
 With sceptres and high buskins th' one would dress me ; 
 
 So through the world should bright renown express me. 
 
 The other gives my love a conquering name ; 
 
 Come, therefore, and to long verse shorter frame. 
 
 Grant, Tragedy, thy poet time's least tittle : 
 
 Thy labour ever lasts ; she asks but little." 
 
 She gave me leave. Soft loves, in time make hast ; 
 
 Some greater work will urge me on at last. 
 
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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