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The Works of Christopher Marlowe

Act: 1 Scene: 4

But I long more to see him banisht hence.

Ignoble vassaile that like Phaeton,

Aspir'st unto the guidance of the sunne.

We know our duties, let him know his peeres.

Think you that we can brooke this upstart pride?

You that are princely borne should shake him off,

For shame subscribe, and let the lowne depart.

And so is mine.

The king I feare hath ill intreated her.

And to behold so sweete a sight as that,

Theres none here, but would run his horse to death.

Then speake not for him, let the pesant go.

No? doe but marke how earnestly she pleads.

She smiles, now for my life his mind is changd.

All that he speakes, is nothing, we are resolv'd.

Marke you but that my lord of Lancaster.

And so will Penbrooke and I .

Slay me my lord, when I offend your grace.

In this, or ought, your highnes shall commaund us.