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war_n great_a king_n scot_n 2,247 5 9.2324 5 false
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A07018 The troublesome raigne and lamentable death of Edward the second, King of England with the tragicall fall of proud Mortimer: as it was sundrie times publiquely acted in the honourable citie of London, by the right honourable the Earle of Pembrooke his seruants. Written by Chri. Marlow Gent.; Edward the Second Marlowe, Christopher, 1564-1593. 1594 (1594) STC 17437; ESTC S120996 45,089 96

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with some colour rise in armes For howsoeuer we haue borne it out T is treason to be vp against the king So shall we haue the people of our side Which for his fathers sake leane to the king But cannot brooke a night growne mushrump Such a one as my Lord of Cornewall is Should beare vs downe of the nobilitie And when the commons and the nobles ioyne T is not the king can buckler Gaueston Wee le pull him from the strongest hould he hath My lords if to performe this I be slack Thinke me as base a groome as Gaueston Lan. On that condition Lancaster will graunt War And so will Penbrooke and I Mor. se. And I Mor. iu. In this I count me highly gratified And Mortimer will rest at your commaund Qu. And when this fauour Isabell forgets Then let her liue abandond and forlorne But see in happie time my lord the king Hauing brought the Earle of Cornewall on his way Is new returnd this newes will glad him much Yet not so much as me I loue him more Then he can Gaueston would he lou'd me But halfe so much then were I treble blest Enter king Edward moorning Edw. Hee s gone and for his absence thus I moorne Did neuer sorrow go so neere my heart As dooth the want of my sweete Gaueston And could my crownes reuenew bring him back I would freelie giue it to his enemies And thinke I gaind hauing bought so deare a friend Qu. Harke how he harpes vpon his minion Edw. My heart is as an anuill vnto sorrow Which beates vpon it like the Cyclops hammers And with the noise turnes vp my giddie braine And makes me frantick for my Gaueston Ah had some bloudlesse furie rose from hell And with my kinglie scepter stroke me dead When I was forst to leaue my Gaueston Lan. Diablo what passions call you these Qu. My gratious lord I come to bring you newes Edw. That you haue parled with your Mortimer Qu. That Gaueston my Lord shal be repeald Edw. Repeald the newes is too sweet to be true Qu. But will you loue me if you finde it so Edw. If it be so what will not Edward do Qu. For Gaueston but not for Isabell Edw. For thee faire Queene if thou louest Gaueston I le hang a golden tongue about thy neck Seeing thou hast pleaded with so good successe Qu. No other iewels hang about my neck Then these my lord nor let me haue more wealth Then I may fetch from this ritch treasurie O how a kisse reuiues poore Isabell Edw. Once more receiue my hand and let this be A second mariage twixt thy selfe and me Qu. And may it prooue more happie then the first My gentle lord be these nobles faire That waite attendance for a gratious looke And on their knees salute your maiestie Edw. Couragious Lancaster imbrace thy king And as grosse vapours perish by the sunne Euen so let hatred with thy soueraigne smile Liue thou with me as my companion Lan. This salutation ouerioyes my heart Edw. Warwick shal be my chiefest counseller These siluer haires will more adorne my court Then gaudie silkes or rich imbrotherie Chide me sweete Warwick if I go astray War Slay me my lord when I offend your grace Edw. In sollemne triumphes and in publike showes Penbrooke shall beare the sword before the king Pen. And with this sword Penbrooke wil fight for you Edw. But wherefore walkes yong Mortimer aside Be thou commaunder of our royall fleete Or if that loftie office like thee not I make thee heere lord Marshall of the realme Mor. iu. My lord I le marshall so your enemies As England shall be quiet and you safe Edw. And as for you lord Mortimer of Chirke Whose great atchiuements in our forrain warre Deserues no common place nor meane reward Be you the generall of the leuied troopes That now are readie to assaile the Scots Mor. se. In this your grace hath highly honoured me For with my nature warre doth best agree Qu. Now is the king of England riche and strong Hauing the loue of his renowned peeres Edw. I Isabell nere was my heart so light Clarke of the crowne direct our warrant forth For Gaueston to Ireland Beamont flie As fast as Iris or Ioues Mercurie Beam It shal be done my gratious Lord Edw. Lord Mortimer we leaue you to your charge Now let vs in and feast it roiallie Against our friend the earle of Cornewall comes Wee le haue a generall tilt and turnament And then his mariage shal be solemnized For wot you not that I haue made him sure Vnto our cosin the earle of Glosters heire Lan. Such newes we heare my lord Edw. That day if not for him yet for my sake Who in the triumphe will be challenger Spare for no cost we will requite your loue Warwick In this or ought your highnes shall commaund vs Edward Thankes gentle Warwick come le ts in and reuell Exeunt Manent Mortimers Mor. se. Nephue I must to Scotland thou staiest here Leaue now to oppose thy selfe against the king Thou seest by nature he is milde and calme And seeing his minde so dotes on Gaueston Let him without controulement haue his will The mightiest kings haue had their minions Great Alexander loude Ephestion The conquering Hector for Hilas wept And for Patroclus sterne Achillis droopt And not kings onelie but the wisest men The Romaine Tullie loued Octauis Graue Socrates wilde Alcibiades Then let his grace whose youth is flexible And promiseth as much as we can wish Freely enioy that vaine light-headed earle For riper yeares will weane him from such toyes Mor. iu. Vnckle his wanton humor greeues not me But this I scorne that one so baselie borne Should by his soueraignes fauour grow so pert And riote it with the treasure of the realme While souldiers mutinie for want of paie He weares a lords reuenewe on his back And Midas like he iets it in the court With base outlandish cullions at his heeles Whose proud fantastick liueries make such show As if that Proteus god of shapes appearde I haue not seene a dapper lack so briske He weares a short Italian hooded cloake Larded with pearle and in his tuskan cap A iewell of more value then the crowne Whiles other walke below the king and he From out a window laugh at such as we And floute our traine and iest at our attire Vnckle t is this that makes me impatient Mor. se. But nephew now you see the king is changd Mor. iu. Then so am I and liue to do him seruice But whiles I haue a sword a hand a hart I will not yeeld to any such vpstart You know my minde come vnckle le ts away Exeunt Enter Spencer and Balduck Bald. Spencer seeing that our Lord th' earle of Glosters dead Which of the nobles dost thou meane to serue Spen. Not Mortimer nor any of his side Because the king and he are enemies Baldock learne this of me a factious lord Shall hardly do