Engirt the temples of his hateful head ;
So shall not England's vines be perished,
But Edward's name survive, though Edward dies.
Lei. My lord, why waste you thus the time away!
They stay your answer, will you yield your crown ?
Edu. Ah, Leiser, weigh how hardly I can brook
To lose my crown and kingdom without cause;
To give ambitious Mortimer my right,
That like a mountain overwhelms my bliss,
In which extreme my mind here murther'd is.
Eut what the heav'ns appoint, I must obey.
Here, take my crown; the life of Edward too;
To Kings in England cannot reign at once-
Eut stay awhile, let me be king till night,
That I may gaze upon this glittering crown;
So shall my eyes receive their last content,
My head the latest honor due to it,
And jointly both yield up their wished right.
Continue ever, thou celestial sun;
Let never silent night possess this clime;
Stand still, you watches of the element;
All times and seasons, rest you at a stay,
That Edward may be still fair England's king.
But day's bright beam doth vanish fast away,
And needs I must resign my wished crown;
Inhuman creatures! nurs'd with tiger's milk!
Why gape you for your sovereign's overthrow }
My diadem I mean, and guiltless life.
Sec, monsters, see, I'll wear my crown again.
What, fear you not the fury of your king ?
But, hapless Edward, thou art fondly led,
They pass not for thy frowns as late they did,
But seck to make a new-elected king;
Which fills my mind with strange despairing thoughts,
Which thoughts are martyred with endless torments,
And in this torment comfort find I none,
But that I feel the crown upon my head;
And therefore let me wear it yet awhile.
Messenger. My lord, the parliament must have present news, And therefore say, will you resign or no?
Edw. I'll not resign! but whilst I live be king.
Traitors be gone, and join with Mortimer.
Elect, conspire, install, do what you will;
Their blood and yours shall seal these treacheries!
Bish. This answer we 'll return, and so farewell.
Lei. Call them again, my lord, and speak them fair;
For if they go, the prince shall lose his right.
Edie. Call thou them back, I have no power to speak.
Lei. My lord, the king is willing to resign.
Bish. If he be not, let him choose.
Edw. O would I might! but heav'n and earth conspire To make me miserable! here, receive my crown;
Receive it? no, these innocent hands of mine
Shall not be guilty of so foul a crime.
He of you all that most desires my blood,
And will be called the murtherer of a king,
Take it. What, are you mov'd? pity you me ?
Then send for unrelenting Mortimer,
And Isabel, whose eyes, being turn'd to steel,
Will sooner sparkle fire than shed a tear.
Yet stay, for rather than I will look on them,
Here, here; now sweet God of heav'n,
Make me despise this transitory pomp,
And sit for ever inthroniz'd in heav'n!
Come death, and with thy fingers close my eyes,
Or, if I live, let me forget myself.
Berkley Castle. The King is left alone with Lightborn, a murderer.
Edw. Who's there? what light is that? wherefore com'st thou ?
Light. To comfort you, and bring you joyful news.
Edw. Small comfort finds poor Edward in thy looks.
Villain, I know thou com'st to murder me.
Light. To murder you, my most gracious lord!
Far is it from my heart to do you harm.
The queen sent me to see how you were used,
For she relents at this your misery;
And what eyes can refrain from shedding tears,
To see a king in this most piteous state.
Edw. Weep'st thou already? list a while to me
And then thy heart, were it as Gurney's* is,
Or as Matrevis',* hewn from the Caucasus,
Yet will it melt, ere I have done my tale.
This dungeon where they keep me is a sink
Wherein the filth of all the castle falls.
Light. O villains!
Edir. And there, in mire and puddle have I stood
This ten days' space; and lest that I should sleep,
One plays continually upon a drum.
They give me bread and water, being a king;
So that, for want of sleep and sustenance,
My mind's distemper'd, and my body's numb'd,
And whether I have limbs or no, I know not.
O would my blood drop out from every vein,
As doth this water from my tattered robes.
Tell Isabel the queen, I look'd not thus,
When for her sake I ran at tilt in France,
And there unhors'd the duke of Cleremont.
Light. O speak no more, my lord! this breaks my heart. Lie on this bed, and rest yourself awhile.
Edw. These looks of thine can harbor nought but death!
I see my tragedy written in thy brows.
Yet stay awhile, forbear thy bloody hand,
And let me see the stroke before it comes,
That even then when I shall lose my life,
My mind may be more stedfast on my God.
Light. What means your highness to mistrust me thus ?
Edu. What mean'st thou to dissemble with me thus ?
Light. These hands were never stained with innocent blood,
Nor shall they now be tainted with a king's.
Edw. Forgive my thought, for having such a thought.
One jewel have I left, receive thou this.
Still fear I, and I know not what's the cause,
But every joint shakes as I give it thee.
O if thou harbor'st murder in thy heart,
Let the gift change thy mind, and save thy soul.
Know that I am a king; Oh, at that name
I feel a hell of grief. Where is my crown?
Gone, gone, and do I still remain alive?
Light. You're overwatch'd, my lord, lie down and rest.
Edw. But that grief keeps me waking, I should sleep;
For not these ten days have these eyelids closed.
Now as I speak they fall, and yet with fear
Open again. O wherefore sitt'st thou here?
Light. If you mistrust me, I'll be gone, my lord.
Edw. No, no, for if thou mean'st to murder me,
Thou wilt return again; and therefore stay.
Light. He sleeps.
Edir. O let me not die; yet stay, O stay awhile.
Light. How now, my lord?
Edir. Something still buzzeth in mine ears,
And tells me if I sleep I never wake;
This fear is that which makes me tremble thus.
And therefore tell me, wherefore art thou come ?
Light. To rid thee of thy life; Matrevis, come.
Edw. I am too weak and feeble to resist:
Assist me, sweet God, and receive my soul.
[This tragedy is in a very different style from "mighty Tamburlaine." The reluctant pangs of abdicating Royalty in Edward furnished hints which Shakspeare scarce improved in his Richard the Second; and the deathscene of Marlowe's king moves pity and terror beyond any scene, ancient or modern, with which I am acquainted.]
THE RICH JEW OF MALTA. A TRAGEDY, BY
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE.
Barabas, the Rich Jew, in his Counting-house, with heaps of gold before him; in contemplation of his wealth.
Bar. So that of thus much that return was made;
And of the third part of the Persian ships
There was a venture summ'd and satisfied.
As to those Samnites, and the Men of Uzz,
That bought my Spanish oils and wines of Greece,
Here have I purst their paltry silverbings.
Fie, what a trouble 'tis to count this trash!
Well fare the Arabians, who so richly pay
The things they traffic for with wedge of gold,
Whereof a man may easily in a day
Tell that, which may maintain him all his life.
The needy groom, that never finger'd groat,
Would make a miracle of thus much coin:
But he whose steel-barr'd coffers are cramm'd full,
And all his life-time hath been tired,
Wearying his fingers' ends with telling it,
Would in his age be loth to labor so,
And for a pound to sweat himself to death.
Give me the merchants of the Indian mines,
That trade in metal of the purest mould;
The wealthy Moor, that in the eastern rocks
Without control can pick his riches up,
And in his house heap pearl like pebble-stones ;
Receive them free and sell them by the weight,
Bags of fiery opals, sapphires, amethysts,
Jacinths, hard topas, grass-green emeralds,
Beauteous rubies, sparkling diamonds,
And seld-seen costly stones of so great price
As one of them, indifferently rated,
And of a caract of this quality,
May serve in peril of calamity
To ransome great kings from captivity.
This is the ware wherein consists my wealth:
And thus methinks should men of judgment frame
Their means of traffic from the vulgar trade,
And, as their wealth increaseth, so inclose
Infinite riches in a little room.
But now how stands the wind?
Into what corner peers my Halcyon's bill }
Ha! to the east? yes: see, how stand the vances ? East and by south: why then, I hope my ships,
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