The Works of Christopher Marlowe

Edward II

Act: 2 Scene: 2
Mortimer
Nothing but Gaveston, what means your grace?
You have matters of more waight to thinke upon,
The King of Fraunce sets foote in Normandie .
Mortimer
A homely one my lord, not worth the telling.
Mortimer
But seeing you are so desirous, thus it is:
A loftie Cedar tree faire flourishing,
On whose top-branches Kinglie Eagles pearch,
And by the barke a canker creepes me up,
And gets unto the highest bough of all,
The motto: Aeque tandem.
Mortimer
If in his absence thus he favors him,
What will he do when as he shall be present?
Mortimer
Welcome is the good Earle of Cornewall.
Mortimer
Villaine thy life, unlesse I misse mine aime.
Mortimer
No more then I would answere were he slaine.
Mortimer
Ile not be barde the court for Gaveston.
Mortimer
Moov'd may he be, and perish in his wrath.
Mortimer
By heaven, the abject villaine shall not live.
Mortimer
Letters, from whence?
Mortimer
My unckles taken prisoner by the Scots.
Mortimer
They rate his ransome at five thousand pound .
Who should defray the money, but the King,
Seeing he is taken prisoner in his warres?
Ile to the King.
Mortimer
About it then, and we will follow you.
Mortimer
Cosin, and if he will not ransome him,
Ile thunder such a peale into his eares,
As never subject did unto his King.
Mortimer
I marry, such a garde as this dooth well.
Mortimer
Whither else but to the King.
Mortimer
May we not?
Mortimer
Nay, stay my lord, I come to bring you newes,
Mine unckles taken prisoner by the Scots.
Mortimer
And you shall ransome him, or else--
Mortimer
My lord, the familie of the Mortimers
Are not so poore, but would they sell their land,
Would levie men enough to anger you.
We never beg, but use such praiers as these.
Mortimer
Nay, now you are heere alone, ile speake my minde.
Mortimer
The idle triumphes, maskes, lascivious showes
And prodigall gifts bestowed on Gaveston,
Have drawne thy treasure drie, and made thee weake,
The murmuring commons overstretched hath.
Lancaster. Looke for rebellion, looke to be deposde,
Thy garrisons are beaten out of Fraunce,
And lame and poore, lie groning at the gates,
The wilde Oneyle, with swarmes of Irish Kernes,
Lives uncontroulde within the English pale,
Unto the walles of Yorke the Scots made rode,
And unresisted, drave away riche spoiles.
Mortimer
The hautie Dane commands the narrow seas,
While in the harbor ride thy ships unrigd.
Mortimer
Who loves thee? but a sort of flatterers.
Mortimer
Thy court is naked, being bereft of those,
That makes a king seeme glorious to the world,
I meane the peeres, whom thou shouldst dearly love:
Libels are cast againe thee in the streete,
Ballads and rimes, made of thy overthrow.
Mortimer
When wert thou in the field with banner spred?
But once , and then thy souldiers marcht like players,
With garish robes, not armor, and thy selfe
Bedaubd with golde, rode laughing at the rest,
Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest,
Where womens favors hung like labels downe.
Mortimer
Wigmore shall flie, to set my unckle free.
Act: 2 Scene: 3
Mortimer
Stay Edmund, never was Plantagenet
False of his word, and therefore trust we thee.
Mortimer
Ile give the onset.
Mortimer
This tottered ensigne of my auncesters,
Which swept the desart shore of that dead sea,
Whereof we got the name of Mortimer,
Will I advaunce upon this castell walles,
Drums strike alarum, raise them from their sport,
And ring aloude the knell of Gaveston.
Act: 2 Scene: 4
Mortimer
Whose this, the Queene?
Mortimer
Cease to lament, and tell us wheres the king?
Mortimer
How comes it, that the king and he is parted ?
Mortimer
Heere in the river rides a Flemish hoie,
Lets all aboord, and follow him amaine.
Mortimer
Madam, stay you within this castell here.
Mortimer
Nay, rather saile with us to Scarborough.
Mortimer
Madam, I cannot stay to answer you,
But thinke of Mortimer as he deserves.
Act: 2 Scene: 5
Mortimer
Thou proud disturber of thy countries peace,
Corrupter of thy king, cause of these broiles,
Base flatterer, yeeld, and were it not for shame,
Shame and dishonour to a souldiers name,
Upon my weapons point here shouldst thou fall,
And welter in thy goare.
Mortimer
Shalt thou appoint
What we shall graunt? Souldiers away with him:
Thus weele gratifie the king,
Weele send his head by thee, let him bestow
His teares on that, for that is all he gets
of Gaveston, or else his sencelesse trunck.
Mortimer
It is honourable in thee to offer this,
But for we know thou art a noble gentleman,
We will not wrong thee so,
To make away a true man for a theefe.
Mortimer
Away base groome, robber of kings renowme,
Question with thy companions and thy mates.
Mortimer
How say you my lord of Warwick ?
Mortimer
My lord of Penbrooke, we deliver him you,
Returne him on your honor. Sound, away.