The Works of Christopher Marlowe

Edward II


Act: 5 Scene: 2
Faire Isabell now have we our desire,
The proud corrupters of the light-brainde king,
Have done their homage to the loftie gallowes,
And he himselfe lies in captivitie.
Be rulde by me, and we will rule the realme,
In any case, take heed of childish feare,
For now we hould an old Wolfe by the eares,
That if he slip will seaze upon us both,
And gripe the sorer being gript himselfe.
Thinke therefore madam that imports us much,
To erect your sonne with all the speed we may,
And that I be protector over him,
For our behoofe will beare the greater sway
When as a kings name shall be under writ.
First would I heare newes that hee were deposde,
And then let me alone to handle him.
Enter Messenger [and then Bishop of Winchester with the crown].
Letters from whence ?
Let me alone, here is the privie seale,
Whose there? call hither Gurney and Matrevis.
To dash the heavie headed Edmunds drift,
Bartley shall be dischargd, the king remoovde,
And none but we shall know where he lieth.
Speake, shall he presently be dispatch'd and die?
Inough.
Matrevis, write a letter presently
Unto the Lord of Bartley from our selfe,
That he resigne the king to thee and Gurney,
And when tis done, we will subscribe our name.
Gurney.
As thou intendest to rise by Mortimer,
Who now makes Fortunes wheele turne as he please,
Seeke all the meanes thou canst to make him droope,
And neither give him kinde word, nor good looke.
And this above the rest, because we heare
That Edmund casts to worke his libertie,
Remoove him still from place to place by night,
Till at the last, he come to Killingworth,
And then from thence to Bartley back againe:
And by the way to make him fret the more,
Speake curstlie to him, and in any case
Let no man comfort him, if he chaunce to weepe,
But amplifie his greefe with bitter words.
So now away, post thither wards amaine.
Finely dissembled, do so still sweet Queene.
Heere comes the yong prince, with the Earle of Kent.
If he have such accesse unto the prince,
Our plots and stratagems will soone be dasht.
How fares my honorable lord of Kent?
And mine.
Thou being his unckle, and the next of bloud,
Doe looke to be protector over the prince?
Inconstant Edmund, doost thou favor him,
That wast a cause of his imprisonment?
I tell thee tis not meet, that one so false
Should come about the person of a prince.
My lord, he hath betraied the king his brother,
And therefore trust him not.
Why yongling, s'dainst thou so of Mortimer?
Then I will carrie thee by force away.

Act: 5 Scene: 4
The king must die, or Mortimer goes downe,
The commons now begin to pitie him,
Yet he that is the cause of Edwards death,
Is sure to pay for it when his sonne is of age,
And therefore will I do it cunninglie.
This letter written by a friend of ours,
Containes his death, yet bids them save his life.
Edwardum occidere nolite timere bonum est.
Feare not to kill the king tis good he die.
But read it thus, and thats an other sence:
Edwardum occidere nolite timere bonum est.
Kill not the king tis good to feare the worst.
Unpointed as it is, thus shall it goe,
That being dead, if it chaunce to be found,
Matrevis and the rest may beare the blame,
And we be quit that causde it to be done:
Within this roome is lockt the messenger,
That shall conveie it, and performe the rest,
And by a secret token that he beares,
Shall he be murdered when the deed is done.
Lightborn, Come forth.
[Enter Lightborn.]
Art thou as resolute as thou wast ?
And hast thou cast how to accomplish it?
But at his lookes Lightborne thou wilt relent.
Well, do it bravely, and be secret.
Whats that?
I care not how it is, so it be not spide:
Deliver this to Gurney and Matrevis,
At every ten miles end thou hast a horse.
Take this, away, and never see me more.
No,
Unlesse thou bring me newes of Edwards death.
The prince I rule, the queene do I commaund,
And with a lowly conge to the ground,
The proudest lords salute me as I passe,
I seale, I cancell, I do what I will,
Feard am I more then lov'd, let me be feard,
And when I frowne, make all the court looke pale,
I view the prince with Aristarchus eyes,
Whose lookes were as a breeching to a boye.
They thrust upon me the Protectorship,
And sue to me for that that I desire,
While at the councell table, grave enough,
And not unlike a bashfull puretaine,
First I complaine of imbecilitie,
Saying it is, onus quam gravissimum,
Till being interrupted by my friends,
Suscepi that provinciam as they terme it,
And to conclude, I am Protector now,
Now is all sure, the Queene and Mortimer
Shall rule the realme, the king, and none rule us,
Mine enemies will I plague, my friends advance,
And what I list commaund, who dare controwle?
Major sum quam cui possitfortuna nocere.
And that this be the coronation day,
It pleaseth me, and Isabell the Queene.
The trumpets sound, I must go take my place.
None comes, sound trumpets.
What traitor have wee there with blades and billes?
Did you attempt his rescue, Edmund speake?
Strike off his head, he shall have marshall lawe.
My lord, he is your enemie, and shall die.
Tis for your highnesse good, and for the realmes.
How often shall I bid you beare him hence? [To Souldiers.]
At our commaund, once more away with him.

Act: 5 Scene: 6
Ist done, Matrevis, and the murtherer dead?
Matrevis, if thou now growest penitent
Ile be thy ghostly father, therefore choose,
whether thou wilt be secret in this,
Or else die by the hand of Mortimer.
Flie to the Savages.
As for my selfe, I stand as Joves huge tree,
And others are but shrubs compard to me,
All tremble at my name, and I feare none,
Lets see who dare impeache me for his death ?
What if he have? the king is yet a childe.
How now my lord ?
Because I thinke scorne to be accusde,
Who is the man dare say I murdered him?
But hath your grace no other proofe then this ?
False Gurney hath betraide me and himselfe.
Tis my hand, what gather you by this.
What murtherer? bring foorth the man I sent.
Madam, intreat not, I will rather die,
Then sue for life unto a paltrie boye.
Base fortune, now I see, that in thy wheele
There is a point, to which when men aspire,
They tumble hedlong downe: that point I touchte,
And seeing there was no place to mount up higher,
Why should I greeve at my declining fall?
Farewell faire Queene, weepe not for Mortimer,
That scornes the world, and as a traveller,
Goes to discover countries yet unknowne.