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The Works of Christopher Marlowe

Edward II

Act: 5 Scene: 5

Edward

Whose there, what light is that, wherefore comes thou?

Edward

Small comfort findes poore Edward in thy lookes,

Villaine, I know thou comst to murther me.

Edward

Weepst thou already? list a while to me,

And then thy heart, were it as Gurneys is,

Or as Matrevis, hewne from the Caucasus,

Yet will it melt, ere I have done my tale.

This dungeon where they keepe me, is the sincke,

Wherein the filthe of all the castell falles.

Edward

And there in mire and puddle have I stood,

This ten dayes space, and least that I should sleepe,

One plaies continually upon a Drum,

They give me bread and water being a king,

So that for want of sleepe and sustenance,

My mindes distempered, and my bodies numde,

And whether I have limmes or no, I know not.

O would my bloud dropt out from every vaine,

As doth this water from my tattered robes:

Tell Isabell the Queene, I lookt not thus,

When for her sake I ran at tilt in Fraunce,

And there unhorste the duke of Cleremont.

Edward

These lookes of thine can harbor nought but death.

I see my tragedie written in thy browes,

Yet stay a while, forbeare thy bloudie hande,

And let me see the stroke before it comes,

That even then when I shall lose my life,

My minde may be more stedfast on my God.

Edward

What meanes thou to dissemble with me thus ?

Edward

Forgive my thought, for having such a thought,

One jewell have I left, receive thou this.

Still feare I, and I know not whats the cause,

But everie jointe shakes as I give it thee:

O if thou harborst murther in thy hart,

Let this gift change thy minde, and save thy soule,

Know that I am a king, oh at that name,

I feele a hell of greefe: where is my crowne?

Gone, gone, and doe I remaine alive?

Edward

But that greefe keepes me waking, I shoulde sleepe,

For not these ten daies have these eyes lids closd.

Now as I speake they fall, and yet with feare

Open againe. O wherefore sits thou heare?

Edward

No, no, for if thou meanst to murther me,

Thou wilt returne againe, and therefore stay.

Edward

O let me not die yet, stay, O stay a while.

Edward

Something still busseth in mine eares,

And tels me, if I sleepe I never wake,

This feare is that which makes me tremble thus,

And therefore tell me, wherefore art thou come?

Edward

I am too weake and feeble to resist,

Assist me sweete God, and receive my soule.

Edward

O spare me, or dispatche me in a trice.