Thursday's Serial: "Edward II" by Christopher Marlowe (in English) - V

King Edward. He's gone, and for his absence thus I mourn:

   Did never sorrow go so near my heart

   As doth the want of my sweet Gaveston;

   And, could my crown's revenue bring him back,

   I would freely give it to his enemies,

   And think I gain'd, having bought so dear a friend.

Queen Isabella. Hark, how he harps upon his minion!

King Edward. My heart is as an anvil unto sorrow,

   Which beats upon it like the Cyclops' hammers,

   And with the noise turns up my giddy brain,

   And makes me frantic for my Gaveston.

   Ah, had some bloodless Fury rose from hell,

   And with my kingly sceptre struck me dead,

   When I was forc'd to leave my Gaveston!

Lancaster. Diablo, what passions call you these?

Queen Isabella. My gracious lord, I come to bring you news.

King Edward. That you have parled with your Mortimer?

Queen Isabella. That Gaveston, my lord, shall be repeal'd.

King Edward. Repeal'd! the news is too sweet to be true.

Queen Isabella. But will you love me, if you find it so?

King Edward. If it be so, what will not Edward do?

Queen Isabella. For Gaveston, but not for Isabel.

King Edward. For thee, fair queen, if thou lov'st Gaveston;

   I'll hang a golden tongue about thy neck,

   Seeing thou hast pleaded with so good success.

Queen Isabella. No other jewels hang about my neck

   Than these, my lord; nor let me have more wealth

   Than I may fetch from this rich treasury.

   O, how a kiss revives poor Isabel!

King Edward. Once more receive my hand; and let this be

   A second marriage 'twixt thyself and me.

Queen Isabella. And may it prove more happy than the first!

   My gentle lord, bespeak these nobles fair,

   That wait attendance for a gracious look,

   And on their knees salute your majesty.

King Edward. Courageous Lancaster, embrace thy king;

   And, as gross vapours perish by the sun,

   Even so let hatred with thy sovereign's smile:

   Live thou with me as my companion.

Lancaster. This salutation overjoys my heart.

King Edward. Warwick shall be my chiefest counsellor:

   These silver hairs will more adorn my court

   Than gaudy silks or rich embroidery.

   Chide me, sweet Warwick, if I go astray.

Warwick. Slay me, my lord, when I offend your grace.

King Edward. In solemn triumphs and in public shows

   Pembroke shall bear the sword before the king.

Pembroke. And with this sword Pembroke will fight for you.

King Edward. But wherefore walks young Mortimer aside?

   Be thou commander of our royal fleet;

   Or, if that lofty office like thee not,

   I make thee here Lord Marshal of the realm.

Young Mortimer. My lord, I'll marshal so your enemies,

   As England shall be quiet, and you safe.

King Edward. And as for you, Lord Mortimer of Chirke,

   Whose great achievements in our foreign war

   Deserve no common place nor mean reward,

   Be you the general of the levied troops

   That now are ready to assail the Scots.

Elder Mortimer. In this your grace hath highly honour'd me,

   For with my nature war doth best agree.

Queen Isabella. Now is the king of England rich and strong,

   Having the love of his renowmed peers.

King Edward. Ay, Isabel, ne'er was my heart so light.—

   Clerk of the crown, direct our warrant forth,

   For Gaveston, to Ireland!

Enter BEAUMONT with warrant.

                                            Beaumont, fly

   As fast as Iris or Jove's Mercury.

Beaumont. It shall be done, my gracious lord. [Exit.

King Edward. Lord Mortimer, we leave you to your charge.

   Now let us in, and feast it royally.

   Against our friend the Earl of Cornwall comes

   We'll have a general tilt and tournament;

   And then his marriage shall be solemnis'd;

   For wot you not that I have made him sure

   Unto our cousin, the Earl of Glocester's heir?

Lancaster. Such news we hear, my lord.

King Edward. That day, if not for him, yet for my sake,

   Who in the triumph will be challenger,

   Spare for no cost; we will requite your love.

Warwick. In this or aught your highness shall command us.

King Edward. Thanks, gentle Warwick. Come, lets in and revel.

                           [Exeunt all except the elder Mortimer and the younger Mortimer.

Elder Mortimer. Nephew, I must to Scotland; thou stay'st here.

   Leave now to oppose thyself against the king:

   Thou seest by nature he is mild and calm;

   And, seeing his mind so dotes on Gaveston,

   Let him without controlment have his will.

   The mightiest kings have had their minions;

   Great Alexander lov'd Hephæstion,

   The conquering Hercules for Hylas wept,

   And for Patroclus stern Achilles droop'd

   And not kings only, but the wisest men;

   The Roman Tully lov'd Octavius,

   Grave Socrates wild Alcibiades.

   Then let his grace, whose youth is flexible,

   And promiseth as much as we can wish,

   Freely enjoy that vain light-headed earl;

   For riper years will wean him from such toys.

Young Mortimer. Uncle, his wanton humour grieves not me;

   But this I scorn, that one so basely-born

   Should by his sovereign's favour grow so pert,

   And riot it with the treasure of the realm,

   While soldiers mutiny for want of pay.

   He wears a lord's revenue on his back,

   And, Midas-like, he jets it in the court,

   With base outlandish cullions at his heels,

   Whose proud fantastic liveries make such show

   As if that Proteus, god of shapes, appear'd.

   I have not seen a dapper Jack so brisk:

   He wears a short Italian hooded cloak,

   Larded with pearl, and in his Tuscan cap

   A jewel of more value than the crown.

   While others walk below, the king and he,

   From out a window, laugh at such as we,

   And flout our train, and jest at our attire.

   Uncle, 'tis this that makes me impatient.

Elder Mortimer. But, nephew, now you see the king is chang'd.

Young Mortimer. Then so I am, and live to do him service:

   But, whiles I have a sword, a hand, a heart,

   I will not yield to any such upstart.

   You know my mind: come, uncle, let's away. [Exeunt.

Enter the younger SPENSER and BALDOCK.

Baldock. Spenser,

   Seeing that our lord the Earl of Glocester's dead,

   Which of the nobles dost thou mean to serve?

Younger Spencer. Not Mortimer, nor any of his side,

   Because the king and he are enemies.

   Baldock, learn this of me: a factious lord

   Shall hardly do himself good, much less us;

   But he that hath the favour of a king

   May with one word advance us while we live.

   The liberal Earl of Cornwall is the man

   On whose good fortune Spenser's hope depends.

Baldock. What, mean you, then, to be his follower?

Younger Spencer. No, his companion; for he loves me well,

   And would have once preferr'd me to the king.

Baldock. But he is banish'd; there's small hope of him.

Younger Spencer. Ay, for a while; but, Baldock, mark the end.

   A friend of mine told me in secrecy

   That he's repeal'd and sent for back again;

   And even now a post came from the court

   With letters to our lady from the king;

   And, as she read, she smil'd; which makes me think

   It is about her lover Gaveston.

Baldock. 'Tis like enough; for, since he was exil'd,

   She neither walks abroad nor comes in sight.

   But I had thought the match had been broke off,

   And that his banishment had chang'd her mind.

Younger Spencer. Our lady's first love is not wavering;

   My life for thine, she will have Gaveston.

Baldock. Then hope I by her means to be preferr'd,

   Having read unto her since she was a child.

Younger Spencer. Then, Baldock, you must cast the scholar off,

   And learn to court it like a gentleman.

   'Tis not a black coat and a little band,

   A velvet-cap'd cloak, fac'd before with serge,

   And smelling to a nosegay all the day,

   Or holding of a napkin in your hand,

   Or saying a long grace at a table's end,

   Or making low legs to a nobleman,

   Or looking downward, with your eye-lids close,

   And saying, "Truly, an't may please your honour,"

   Can get you any favour with great men:

   You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute,

   And now and then stab, as occasion serves.

Baldock. Spenser, thou know'st I hate such formal toys,

   And use them but of mere hypocrisy.

   Mine old lord, whiles he liv'd, was so precise,

   That he would take exceptions at my buttons,

   And, being like pins' heads, blame me for the bigness;

   Which made me curate-like in mine attire,

   Though inwardly licentious enough,

   And apt for any kind of villany.

   I am none of these common pedants, I,

   That cannot speak without propterea quod.

Younger Spencer. But one of those that saith quando-quidem,

   And hath a special gift to form a verb.

Baldock. Leave off this jesting; here my lady comes.

Enter KING EDWARD'S Niece.