The Works of Christopher Marlowe
Edward II
Act:
4
Scene:
7
Spencer
Not one alive, but shrewdly I suspect,
A gloomie fellow in a meade belowe,
A gave a long looke after us my lord,
And all the land I know is up in armes,
Armes that pursue our lives with deadly hate.
Spencer
Looke up my lord. Baldock, this drowsines
Betides no good, here even we are betraied.
Spencer
It may become thee yet,
To let us take our farewell of his grace.
Spencer
We must my lord, so will the angry heavens.
Spencer
O is he gone! is noble Edward gone,
Parted from hence, never to see us more!
Rent sphere of heaven, and fier forsake thy orbe,
Earth melt to ayre, gone is my soveraigne,
Gone, gone alas, never to make returne.
