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The Works of Christopher Marlowe

Faire blowes the winde for Fraunce, blowe gentle gale,

Till Edmund be arrivde for Englands good,

Nature, yeeld to my countries cause in this.

A brother, no, a butcher of thy friends,

Proud Edward, doost thou banish me thy presence?

But ile to Fraunce, and cheere the wronged Queene,

And certifie what Edwards loosenes is.

Unnaturall king, to slaughter noble men

And cherish flatterers:

Mortimer I stay thy sweet escape,

Stand gratious gloomie night to his device.

Madam, long may you live,

Much happier then your friends in England do.

Would all were well, and Edward well reclaimd,

For Englands honor, peace, and quietnes.

Sir John of Henolt, pardon us I pray,

These comforts that you give our wofull queene,

Binde us in kindenes all at your commaund.

I would he never had bin flattered more.

This way he fled, but I am come too late.

Edward, alas my hart relents for thee,

Proud traytor Mortimer why doost thou chase

Thy lawfull king thy soveraigne with thy sword ?

Vilde wretch, and why hast thou of all unkinde,

Borne armes against thy brother and thy king?

Raigne showers of vengeance on my cursed head

Thou God, to whom in justice it belongs

To punish this unnaturall revolt:

Edward, this Mortimer aimes at thy life:

O fly him then, but Edmund calme this rage,

Dissemble or thou diest, for Mortimer

And Isabell doe kisse while they conspire,

And yet she beares a face of love forsooth:

Fie on that love that hatcheth death and hate.

Edmund away, Bristow to Longshankes blood

Is false, be not found single for suspect:

Proud Mortimer pries neare into thy walkes.

Madam, without offence if I may aske,

How will you deale with Edward in his fall?

Nephew, your father, I dare not call him king.

This, Edward, is the ruine of the realme.

[Aside.]Enter Rice ap Howell, and the Maior of Bristow, with Spencer the father.

Unhappie Edward, chaste from Englands bounds.