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

Pembroke. My lord, you shall go with me:

   My house is not far hence; out of the way

   A little; but our men shall go along.

   We that have pretty wenches to our wives,

   Sir, must not come so near to balk their lips.

Arundel. 'Tis very kindly spoke, my Lord of Pembroke:

   Your honour hath an adamant of power

   To draw a prince.

Pembroke. So, my lord. - Come hither, James:

   I do commit this Gaveston to thee;

   Be thou this night his keeper; in the morning

   We will discharge thee of thy charge: be gone.

Gaveston. Unhappy Gaveston, whither go'st thou now?

                     [Exit with James and other Attendants of Pembroke.

Horse-boy. My lord, we'll quickly be at Cobham.

[Exeunt.Enter Gaveston mourning, James and other Attendants of Pembroke.

Gaveston. O treacherous Warwick, thus to wrong thy friend!

James. I see it is your life these arms pursue.

Gaveston. Weaponless must I fall, and die in bands?

   O, must this day be period of my life,

   Centre of all my bliss? And ye be men,

   Speed to the king.

Enter Warwick and Soldiers.

Warwick. My Lord of Pembroke's men,

   Strive you no longer: I will have that Gaveston.

James. Your lordship doth dishonour to yourself,

   And wrong our lord, your honourable friend.

Warwick. No, James, it is my country's cause I follow. -

   Go, take the villain: soldiers, come away;

   We'll make quick work. -Commend me to your master,

   My friend, and tell him that I watch'd it well. -

   Come, let thy shadow parley with King Edward.

Gaveston. Treacherous earl, shall I not see the king?

Warwick. The king of heaven perhaps, no other king. -

   Away!

[Exeunt Warwick and Soldiers with Gaveston.

James. Come, fellows: it booted not for us to strive:

   We will in haste go certify our lord.

[Exeunt. Enter King Edward, the younger Spencer, Baldock, Noblemen of the king's side, and Soldiers with drums and fifes.

King Edward. I long to hear an answer from the barons

   Touching my friend, my dearest Gaveston.

   Ah, Spencer, not the riches of my realm

   Can ransom him! ah, he is mark'd to die!

   I know the malice of the younger Mortimer;

   Warwick I know is rough, and Lancaster

   Inexorable; and I shall never see

   My lovely Pierce of Gaveston again:

   The barons overbear with me their pride.

Younger Spencer. Were I King Edward, England's sovereign,

   Son to the lovely Eleanor of Spain,

   Great Edward Longshanks' issue, would I bear

   These braves, this rage, and suffer uncontroll'd

   These barons thus to beard me in my land,

   In mine own realm? My lord, pardon my speech:

   Did you retain your father's magnanimity,

   Did you regard the honour of your name,

   You would not suffer thus your majesty

   Be counterbuff'd of your nobility.

   Strike off their heads, and let them preach on poles:

   No doubt, such lessons they will teach the rest,

   As by their preachments they will profit much,

   And learn obedience to their lawful king.

King Edward. Yes, gentle Spencer, we have been too mild,

   Too kind to them; but now have drawn our sword,

   And, if they send me not my Gaveston,

   We'll steel it on their crest[s], and poll their tops.

Baldock. This haught resolve becomes your majesty,

   Not to be tied to their affection,

   As though your highness were a school-boy still,

   And must be aw'd and govern'd like a child.

Enter the elder Spencer with his truncheon, and Soldiers.

Elder Spencer. Long live my sovereign, the noble Edward,

   In peace triumphant, fortunate in wars!

King Edward. Welcome, old man: com'st thou in Edward's aid?

   Then tell thy prince of whence and what thou art.

Elder Spencer. Low, with a band of bow-men and of pikes,

   Brown bills and targeteers, four hundred strong,

   Sworn to defend King Edward's royal right,

   I come in person to your majesty,

   Spencer, the father of Hugh Spencer there,

   Bound to your highness everlastingly

   For favour done, in him, unto us all.

King Edward. Thy father, Spencer?

Younger Spencer. True, an it like your grace,

   That pours, in lieu of all your goodness shown,

   His life, my lord, before your princely feet.

King Edward. Welcome ten thousand times, old man, again!

   Spencer, this love, this kindness to thy king,

   Argues thy noble mind and disposition.

   Spencer, I here create thee Earl of Wiltshire,

   And daily will enrich thee with our favour,

   That, as the sunshine, shall reflect o'er thee.

   Beside, the more to manifest our love,

   Because we hear Lord Bruce doth sell his land,

   And that the Mortimers are in hand withal,

   Thou shalt have crowns of us t'outbid the barons;

   And, Spencer, spare them not, lay it on. -

   Soldiers, a largess, and thrice-welcome all!

Younger Spencer. My lord, here comes the queen.

Enter Queen Isabella, Prince Edward, and Levune.

King Edward. Madam, what news?

Queen Isabella. News of dishonour, lord, and discontent.

   Our friend Levune, faithful and full of trust,

   Informeth us, by letters and by words,

   That Lord Valois our brother, King of France,

   Because your highness hath been slack in homage,

   Hath seized Normandy into his hands:

   These be the letters, this the messenger.

King Edward. Welcome, Levune. -Tush, Sib, if this be all,

   Valois and I will soon be friends again. -

   But to my Gaveston: shall I never see,

   Never behold thee now! - Madam, in this matter

   We will employ you and your little son;

   You shall go parley with the King of France. -

   Boy, see you bear you bravely to the king,

   And do your message with a majesty.

Prince Edward. Commit not to my youth things of more weight

   Than fits a prince so young as I to bear;

   And fear not, lord and father, -heaven's great beams

   On Atlas' shoulder shall not lie more safe

   Than shall your charge committed to my trust.

Queen Isabella. Ah, boy, this towardness makes thy mother fear

   Thou art not mark'd to many days on earth!

King Edward. Madam, we will that you with speed be shipp'd,

   And this our son; Levune shall follow you

   With all the haste we can despatch him hence.

   Choose of our lords to bear you company;

   And go in peace; leave us in wars at home.

Queen Isabella. Unnatural wars, where subjects brave their king:

   God end them once! -My lord, I take my leave,

   To make my preparation for France.

[Exit with Prince Edward. Enter Arundel.

King Edward. What, Lord Arundel, dost thou come alone?

Arundel. Yea, my good lord, for Gaveston is dead.

King Edward. Ah, traitors, have they put my friend to death?

   Tell me, Arundel, died he ere thou cam'st,

   Or didst thou see my friend to take his death?

Arundel. Neither, my lord; for, as he was surpris'd,

   Begirt with weapons and with enemies round,

   I did your highness' message to them all,

   Demanding him of them, entreating rather,

   And said, upon the honour of my name,

   That I would undertake to carry him

   Unto your highness, and to bring him back.

King Edward. And, tell me, would the rebels deny me that?

Younger Spencer. Proud recreants!

King Edward. Yea, Spencer, traitors all!

Arundel. In found them at the first inexorable;

   The Earl of Warwick would not bide the hearing,

   Mortimer hardly; Pembroke and Lancaster

   Spake least; and when they flatly had denied,

   Refusing to receive me pledge for him,

   The Earl of Pembroke mildly thus bespake;

   "My lord, because our sovereign sends for him,

   And promiseth he shall be safe return'd,

   I will this undertake, to have him hence,

   And see him re-deliver'd to your hands."

King Edward. Well, and how fortunes [it] that he came not?

Younger Spencer. Some treason or some villany was cause.

Arundel. The Earl of Warwick seiz'd him on his way;

   For, being deliver'd unto Pembroke's men,

   Their lord rode home, thinking his prisoner safe;

   But, ere he came, Warwick in ambush lay,

   And bare him to his death; and in a trench

   Strake off his head, and march'd unto the camp.

Younger Spencer. A bloody part, flatly 'gainst law of arms!

King Edward. O, shall I speak, or shall I sigh and die!

Younger Spencer. My lord, refer your vengeance to the sword

   Upon these barons; hearten up your men;

   Let them not unreveng'd murder your friends:

   Advance your standard, Edward, in the field,

   And march to fire them from their starting-holes.

King Edward. [kneeling.] By earth, the common mother of us all,

   By heaven, and all the moving orbs thereof,

   By this right hand, and by my father's sword,

   And all the honours 'longing to my crown,

   I will have heads and lives for him as many

   As I have manors, castles, towns, and towers! - [Rises.

   Treacherous Warwick! traitorous Mortimer!

   If I be England's king, in lakes of gore

   Your headless trunks, your bodies will I trail,

   That you may drink your fill, and quaff in blood,

   And stain my royal standard with the same,

   That so my bloody colours may suggest

   Remembrance of revenge immortally

   On your accursed traitorous progeny,

   You villains that have slain my Gaveston! -

   And in this place of honour and of trust,

   Spencer, sweet Spencer, I adopt thee here;

   And merely of our love we do create thee

   Earl of Glocester and Lord Chamberlain,

   Despite of times, despite of enemies.

Younger Spencer. My lord, here's a messenger from the barons

   Desires access unto your majesty.

King Edward. Admit him near.

Enter Herald with his coat of arms.

Herald. Long live King Edward, England's lawful lord!

King Edward. So wish not they, I wis, that sent thee hither:

   Thou com'st from Mortimer and his complices:

   A ranker rout of rebels never was.

   Well, say thy message.

Herald. The barons, up in arms, by me salute

   Your highness with long life and happiness;

   And bid me say, as plainer to your grace,

   That if without effusion of blood

   You will this grief have ease and remedy,

   That from your princely person you remove

   This Spencer, as a putrifying branch

   That deads the royal vine, whose golden leaves

   Empale your princely head, your diadem;

   Whose brightness such pernicious upstarts dim,

   Say they, and lovingly advise your grace

   To cherish virtue and nobility,

   And have old servitors in high esteem,

   And shake off smooth dissembling flatterers:

   This granted, they, their honours, and their lives,

   Are to your highness vow'd and consecrate.

Younger Spencer. Ah, traitors, will they still display their pride?

King Edward. Away! tarry no answer, but be gone! -

   Rebels, will they appoint their sovereign

   His sports, his pleasures, and his company? -

   Yet, ere thou go, see how I do divorce [Embraces young Spencer.

   Spencer from thee. Now get thee to thy lords,

   And tell them I will come to chastise them

   For murdering Gaveston: hie thee, get thee gone!

   Edward, with fire and sword, follows at thy heels. [Exit Herald.

   My lord[s], perceive you how these rebels swell? -

   Soldiers, good hearts! defend your sovereign's right,

   For, now, even now, we march to make them stoop.

   Away!

            [Exeunt. Alarums, excursions, a great fight, and a retreat sounded, within. Re-enter King Edward, the elder Spencer, the younger Spencer, Baldock, and Noblemen of the king's side.