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

King Edward. How now!

   What noise is this? who have we here? is't you? [Going.

Young Mortimer. Nay, stay, my lord; I come to bring you news;

   Mine uncle's taken prisoner by the Scots.

King Edward. Then ransom him.

Lancaster. 'Twas in your wars; you should ransom him.

Young Mortimer. And you will ransom him, or else -

Kent. What, Mortimer, you will not threaten him?

King Edward. Quiet yourself; you shall have the broad seal,

   To gather for him th[o]roughout the realm.

Lancaster. Your minion Gaveston hath taught you this.

Young Mortimer. My lord, the family of the Mortimers

   Are not so poor, but, would they sell their land,

   'Twould levy men enough to anger you.

   We never beg, but use such prayers as these.

King Edward. Shall I still be haunted thus?

Young Mortimer. Nay, now you are here alone, I'll speak my mind.

Lancaster. And so will I; and then, my lord, farewell.

Young Mortimer. The idle triumphs, masks, lascivious shows,

   And prodigal gifts bestow'd on Gaveston,

   Have drawn thy treasury dry, and made thee weak;

   The murmuring commons, overstretched, break.

Lancaster. Look for rebellion, look to be depos'd:

   Thy garrisons are beaten out of France,

   And, lame and poor, lie groaning at the gates;

   The wild Oneil, with swarms of Irish kerns,

   Lives uncontroll'd within the English pale;

   Unto the walls of York the Scots make road,

   And, unresisted, drive away rich spoils.

Young Mortimer. The haughty Dane commands the narrow seas,

   While in the harbour ride thy ships unrigg'd.

Lancaster. What foreign prince sends thee ambassadors?

Young Mortimer. Who loves thee, but a sort of flatterers?

Lancaster. Thy gentle queen, sole sister to Valois,

   Complains that thou hast left her all forlorn.

Young Mortimer. Thy court is naked, being bereft of those

   That make a king seem glorious to the world,

   I mean the peers, whom thou shouldst dearly love;

   Libels are cast against thee in the street;

   Ballads and rhymes made of thy overthrow.

Lancaster. The northern borderers, seeing their houses burnt,

   Their wives and children slain, run up and down,

   Cursing the name of thee and Gaveston.

Young Mortimer. When wert thou in the field with banner spread,

   But once? and then thy soldiers march'd like players,

   With garish robes, not armour; and thyself,

   Bedaub'd with gold, rode laughing at the rest,

   Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest,

   Where women's favours hung like labels down.

Lancaster. And thereof came it that the fleering Scots,

   To England's high disgrace, have made this jig;

   Maids of England, sore may you mourn,

   For your lemans you have lost at Bannocksbourn, -

   With a heave and a ho!

   What weeneth the king of England

   So soon to have won Scotland! -

   With a rombelow!

Young Mortimer. Wigmore shall fly, to set my uncle free.

Lancaster. And, when 'tis gone, our swords shall purchase more.

   If you be mov'd, revenge it as you can:

   Look next to see us with our ensigns spread. [Exit with Y. Mortimer.

King Edward. My swelling heart for very anger breaks:

   How oft have I been baited by these peers,

   And dare not be reveng'd, for their power is great!

   Yet, shall the crowning of these cockerels

   Affright a lion? Edward, unfold thy paws,

   And let their lives'-blood slake thy fury's hunger.

   If I be cruel and grow tyrannous,

   Now let them thank themselves, and rue too late.

Kent. My lord, I see your love to Gaveston

   Will be the ruin of the realm and you,

   For now the wrathful nobles threaten wars;

   And therefore, brother, banish him for ever.

King Edward. Art thou an enemy to my Gaveston?

Kent. Ay; and it grieves me that I favour'd him.

King Edward. Traitor, be gone! whine thou with Mortimer.

Kent. So will I, rather than with Gaveston.

King Edward. Out of my sight, and trouble me no more!

Kent. No marvel though thou scorn thy noble peers,

   When I thy brother am rejected thus.

King Edward. Away! [Exit Kent.

   Poor Gaveston, thou hast no friend but me!

   Do what they can, we'll live in Tynmouth here;

   And, so I walk with him about the walls,

   What care I though the earls begirt us round?

   Here comes she that is cause of all these jars.

Enter QUEEN ISABELLA, with EDWARD'S NIECE, two Ladies, GAVESTON, BALDOCK, and the younger SPENSER.

Queen Isabella. My lord, 'tis thought the earls are up in arms.

King Edward. Ay, and 'tis likewise thought you favour 'em.

Queen Isabella. Thus do you still suspect me without cause.

Niece. Sweet uncle, speak more kindly to the queen.

Gaveston. My lord, dissemble with her; speak her fair.

King Edward. Pardon me, sweet; I forgot myself.

Queen Isabella. Your pardon is quickly got of Isabel.

King Edward. The younger Mortimer is grown so brave, That to my face he threatens civil wars.

Gaveston. Why do you not commit him to the Tower?

King Edward. I dare not, for the people love him well.

Gaveston. Why, then, we'll have him privily made away.

King Edward. Would Lancaster and he had both carous'd A bowl of poison to each other's health! But let them go, and tell me what are these.

Niece. Two of my father's servants whilst he liv'd: May't please your grace to entertain them now.

King Edward. Tell me, where wast thou born? what is thine arms?

Baldock. My name is Baldock, and my gentry I fetch from Oxford, not from heraldry.

King Edward. The fitter art thou, Baldock, for my turn. Wait on me, and I'll see thou shalt not want.

Baldock. I humbly thank your majesty.

King Edward. Knowest thou him, Gaveston.

Gaveston. Ay, my lord; His name is Spenser; he is well allied: For my sake let him wait upon your grace; Scarce shall you find a man of more desert.

King Edward. Then, Spenser, wait upon me for his sake: I'll grace thee with a higher style ere long.

Younger Spencer. No greater titles happen unto me Than to be favour'd of your majesty!

King Edward. Cousin, this day shall be your marriage feast: -  And, Gaveston, think that I love thee well, To wed thee to our niece, the only heir Unto the Earl of Glocester late deceas'd.

Gaveston. I know, my lord, many will stomach me; But I respect neither their love nor hate.

King Edward. The headstrong barons shall not limit me; He that I list to favour shall be great. Come, let's away; and, when the marriage ends, Have at the rebels and their complices!

[Exeunt. Enter KENT, LANCASTER, the younger MORTIMER, WARWICK, PEMBROKE, and others.

Kent. My lords, of love to this our native land,

   I come to join with you, and leave the king;

   And in your quarrel, and the realm's behoof,

   Will be the first that shall adventure life.

Lancaster. I fear me, you are sent of policy,

   To undermine us with a show of love.

Warwick. He is your brother; therefore have we cause

   To cast the worst, and doubt of your revolt.

Kent. Mine honour shall be hostage of my truth:

   If that will not suffice, farewell, my lords.

Young Mortimer. Stay, Edmund: never was Plantagenet

   False of his word; and therefore trust we thee.

Pembroke. But what's the reason you should leave him now?

Kent. I have inform'd the Earl of Lancaster.

Lancaster. And it sufficeth. Now, my lords, know this,

   That Gaveston is secretly arriv'd,

   And here in Tynmouth frolics with the king.

   Let us with these our followers scale the walls,

   And suddenly surprise them unawares.

Young Mortimer. I'll give the onset.

Warwick. And I'll follow thee.

Young Mortimer. This tatter'd ensign of my ancestors,

   Which swept the desert shore of that Dead Sea

   Whereof we got the name of Mortimer,

   Will I advance upon this castle ['s] walls -

   Drums, strike alarum, raise them from their sport,

   And ring aloud the knell of Gaveston!

Lancaster. None be so hardy as to touch the king;

   But neither spare you Gaveston nor his friends.

[Exeunt. Enter, severally KING EDWARD and the younger SPENSER.

King Edward. O, tell me, Spenser, where is Gaveston?

Younger Spencer. I fear me he is slain, my gracious lord.

King Edward. No, here he comes; now let them spoil and kill.

Enter QUEEN ISABELLA, KING EDWARD'S Niece, GAVESTON, and Nobles.

   Fly, fly, my lords; the earls have got the hold;

   Take shipping, and away to Scarborough:

   Spenser and I will post away by land.

Gaveston. O, stay, my lord! they will not injure you.

King Edward. I will not trust them. Gaveston, away!

Gaveston. Farewell, my lord.

King Edward. Lady, farewell.

Niece. Farewell, sweet uncle, till we meet again.

King Edward. Farewell, sweet Gaveston; and farewell, niece.

Queen Isabella. No farewell to poor Isabel thy queen?

King Edward. Yes, yes, for Mortimer your lover's sake.

Queen Isabella. Heavens can witness, I love none but you.

                                     [Exeunt all except Queen Isabella.

   From my embracements thus he breaks away.

   O, that mine arms could close this isle about,

   That I might pull him to me where I would!

   Or that these tears, that drizzle from mine eyes,

   Had power to mollify his stony heart,

   That, when I had him, we might never part!

Enter LANCASTER, WARWICK, the younger MORTIMER, and others. Alarums within.

Lancaster. I wonder how he scap'd.

Young Mortimer. Who's this? the queen!

Queen Isabella. Ay, Mortimer, the miserable queen,

   Whose pining heart her inward sighs have blasted,

   And body with continual mourning wasted:

   These hands are tir'd with haling of my lord

   From Gaveston, from wicked Gaveston;

   And all in vain; for, when I speak him fair,

   He turns away, and smiles upon his minion.

Young Mortimer. Cease to lament, and tell us where's the king?

Queen Isabella. What would you with the king? is't him you seek?

Lancaster. No, madam, but that cursed Gaveston:

   Far be it from the thought of Lancaster

   To offer violence to his sovereign!

   We would but rid the realm of Gaveston:

   Tell us where he remains, and he shall die.

Queen Isabella. He's gone by water unto Scarborough:

   Pursue him quickly, and he cannot scape;

   The king hath left him, and his train is small.

Warwick. Forslow no time, sweet Lancaster; let's march.

Young Mortimer. How comes it that the king and he is parted?

Queen Isabella. That thus your army, going several ways,

   Might be of lesser force, and with the power

   That he intendeth presently to raise,

   Be easily suppress'd: therefore be gone.

Young Mortimer. Here in the river rides a Flemish hoy:

   Let's all aboard, and follow him amain.

Lancaster. The wind that bears him hence will fill our sails;

   Come, come, aboard! 'tis but an hour's sailing.

Young Mortimer. Madam, stay you within this castle here.

Queen Isabella. No, Mortimer; I'll to my lord the king.

Young Mortimer. Nay, rather sail with us to Scarborough.

Queen Isabella. You know the king is so suspicious

   As, if he hear I have but talk'd with you,

   Mine honour will be call'd in question;

   And therefore, gentle Mortimer, be gone.

Young Mortimer. Madam, I cannot stay to answer you:

   But think of Mortimer as he deserves.

                                     [Exeunt all except Queen Isabella.

Queen Isabella. So well hast thou deserv'd, sweet Mortimer,

   As Isabel could live with thee for ever.

   In vain I look for love at Edward's hand,

   Whose eyes are fix'd on none but Gaveston.

   Yet once more I'll importune him with prayer:

   If he be strange, and not regard my words,

   My son and I will over into France,

   And to the king my brother there complain

   How Gaveston hath robb'd me of his love:

   But yet, I hope, my sorrows will have end,

   And Gaveston this blessed day be slain. [Exit.

Enter GAVESTON, pursued.

Gaveston. Yet, lusty lords, I have escap'd your hands,

   Your threats, your 'larums, and your hot pursuits;

   And, though divorced from King Edward's eyes,

   Yet liveth Pierce of Gaveston unsurpris'd,

   Breathing in hope (malgrado all your beards,

   That muster rebels thus against your king)

   To see his royal sovereign once again.

Enter WARWICK, LANCASTER, PEMBROKE, the younger MORTIMER, Soldiers, JAMES and other Attendants of PENBROKE.

Warwick. Upon him, soldiers! take away his weapons!

Young Mortimer. Thou proud disturber of thy country's peace,

   Corrupter of thy king, cause of these broils,

   Base flatterer, yield! and, were it not for shame,

   Shame and dishonour to a soldier's name,

   Upon my weapon's point here shouldst thou fall,

   And welter in thy gore.

Lancaster. Monster of men,

   That, like the Greekish strumpet, train'd to arms

   And bloody wars so many valiant knights,

   Look for no other fortune, wretch, than death!

   King Edward is not here to buckler thee.

Warwick. Lancaster, why talk'st thou to the slave? -

   Go, soldiers, take him hence; for, by my sword,

   His head shall off. - Gaveston, short warning

   Shall serve thy turn: it is our country's cause

   That here severely we will execute

   Upon thy person. - Hang him at a bough.

Gaveston. My lord, -

Warwick. Soldiers, have him away. -

   But, for thou wert the favourite of a king,

   Thou shalt have so much honour at our hands.

Gaveston. I thank you all, my lords: then I perceive

   That heading is one, and hanging is the other,

   And death is all.

Enter ARUNDEL.

Lancaster. How now, my Lord of Arundel!

Arundel. My lords, King Edward greets you all by me.

Warwick. Arundel, say your message.

Arundel. His majesty, hearing that you had taken Gaveston,

   Entreateth you by me, yet but he may

   See him before he dies; for why, he says,

   And sends you word, he knows that die he shall;

   And, if you gratify his grace so far,

   He will be mindful of the courtesy.

Warwick. How now!

Gaveston. Renowmed Edward, how thy name

   Revives poor Gaveston!

Warwick. No, it needeth not:

   Arundel, we will gratify the king

   In other matters; he must pardon us in this. -

   Soldiers, away with him!

Gaveston. Why, my Lord of Warwick,

   Will now these short delays beget my hopes?

   I know it, lords, it is life you aim at,

   Yet grant King Edward this.

Young Mortimer. Shalt thou appoint

   What we shall grant? -Soldiers, away with him! -

   Thus we'll gratify the king;

   We'll send his head by thee; let him bestow

   His tears on that, for that is all he gets

   Of Gaveston, or else his senseless trunk.

Lancaster. Not so, my lord, lest he bestow more cost

   In burying him than he hath ever earn'd.

Arundel. My lords, it is his majesty's request,

   And in the honour of a king he swears,

   He will but talk with him, and send him back.

Warwick. When, can you tell? Arundel, no; we wot

   He that the care of his realm remits,

   And drives his nobles to these exigents

   For Gaveston, will, if he seize him once,

   Violate any promise to possess him.

Arundel. Then, if you will not trust his grace in keep,

   My lords, I will be pledge for his return.

Young Mortimer. 'Tis 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 thief.

Gaveston. How mean'st thou, Mortimer? that is over-base.

Young Mortimer. Away, base groom, robber of king's renown!

   Question with thy companions and mates.

Pembroke. My Lord Mortimer, and you, my lords, each one,

   To gratify the king's request therein,

   Touching the sending of this Gaveston,

   Because his majesty so earnestly

   Desires to see the man before his death,

   I will upon mine honour undertake

   To carry him, and bring him back again;

   Provided this, that you, my Lord of Arundel,

   Will join with me.

Warwick. Pembroke, what wilt thou do?

   Cause yet more bloodshed? is it not enough

   That we have taken him, but must we now

   Leave him on "Had I wist," and let him go?

Pembroke. My lords, I will not over-woo your honours:

   But, if you dare trust Pembroke with the prisoner,

   Upon mine oath, I will return him back.

Arundel. My Lord of Lancaster, what say you in this?

Lancaster. Why, I say, let him go on Pembroke's word.

Pembroke. And you, Lord Mortimer?

Young Mortimer. How say you, my Lord of Warwick?

Warwick. Nay, do your pleasures: I know how 'twill prove.

Pembroke. Then give him me.

Gaveston. Sweet sovereign, yet I come

   To see thee ere I die!

Warwick. Yet not perhaps,

   If Warwick's wit and policy prevail. [Aside.

Young Mortimer. My Lord of Pembroke, we deliver him you:

   Return him on your honour. - Sound, away!

                   [Exeunt all except Pembroke, Arundel, Gaveston, James and other attendants of Pembroke.