TheStationersRegister

The Works of Christopher Marlowe

The Queenes commission, urgd by Mortimer, [Aside.]

What cannot gallant Mortimer with the Queene?

Alas, see where he sits, and hopes unseene,

T'escape their hands that seeke to reave his life:

Too true it is, quem dies vidit veniens superbum,

Hunc dies vidit fugiens jacentem.

But Lecister leave to growe so passionate,

Spencer and Baldocke, by no other names,

I arrest you of high treason here,

Stand not on titles, but obay th'arrest,

Tis in the name of Isabell the Queene:

My lord, why droope you thus ?

Your majestie must go to Killingworth.

Here is a Litter readie for your grace,

That waites your pleasure, and the day growes old.

Be patient good my lord, cease to lament,

Imagine Killingworth castell were your court

And that you lay for pleasure here a space,

Not of compulsion or necessitie.

My lord, why waste you thus the time away,

They stay your answer, will you yeeld your crowne?

Call them againe my lorde, and speake them faire,

For if they goe, the prince shall lose his right.

My lord, the king is willing to resigne.

An other poast, what newes bringes he?

My lorde, the counsell of the Queene commaunds,

That I resigne my charge.

Favor him my lord, as much as lieth in you.

Not yet my lorde, ile beare you on your waye.