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Sol. Edmund, the earl of Kent.

King. What hath he done?

Much more a king, brought up so tenderly. Gur. And so do I, Matrevis: yesternight

Sol. He would have taken the king away per I opened but the door to throw him meat, force,

As we were bringing him to Killingworth.

And I was almost stifled with the savour. Mat. He hath a body able to endure

Mor. jun. Did you attempt his rescue, Ed- More than we can inflict: and therefore now,

mund? Speak.

Edm. Mortimer, I did; he is our king, And thou compell'st this prince to wear the

crown.

Mor. jun. Strike off his head, he shall have martial law.

Edm. Strike off my head! base traitor, I defy thee.

King. My lord, he is my uncle, and shall live. Mor. jun. My lord, he is your enemy, and shall die.

Edm. Stay, villains!

King. Sweet mother, if I cannot pardon him, Intreat my lord protector for his life.

Queen. Son, be content; I dare not speak a word.

King. Nor I, and yet methinks I should com-
mand;

But seeing I cannot, I'll intreat for him-
My lord, if you will let my uncle live,
I will requite it when I come to age.

Mor. jun. 'Tis for your highness' good, and for the realms'.

How often shall I bid you bear him hence? Edm. Art thou king? must I die at thy command?

Mor. jun. At our command! Once more away with him.

Edm. Let me but stay and speak; I will not go. Either my brother or his son is king, And neither of them thirst for Edmund's blood; And therefore, soldiers, whither will you bale me? [They hale EDMUND away, and carry him to be beheaded.

King. What safety may I look for at his hands, If that my uncle shall be murdered thus?

Queen. Fear not, sweet boy, I'll guard thee from thy foes;

Had Edmund lived, he would have sought thy death.

Come, son, we'll ride a hunting in the park.

King. And shall my uncle Edmund ride with us? Queen. He is a traitor, think not on him; come. [Exeunt omnes.

Enter MATREVIS and GURNEY. Mat. Gurney, I wonder the king dies not, Being in a vault up to the knees in water, To which the channels of the castle run; From whence a damp continually ariseth, That were enough to poison any man:

Let us assail his mind another while. Gur. Send for him out thence, and I will an ger him.

Mat. But stay, who's this?

Enter LIGHTBorn.

Light. My lord protector greets you.

[Giving a paper.

Gur. What's here? I know not how to con

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Edwardium occidere nolite timere,
That's his meaning.

Light. Know ye this token? I must have the king. Mat. Ay, stay a while, thou shalt have answer straight.

This villain's sent to make away the king.
Gur. I thought as much.

Mat. And when the murder's done,
See how he must be handled for his labour.
Pereat iste:-let him have the king:
What else? here is the keys, this is the lake,
Do as you are commanded by my lord.

Light. I know what I must do, get you away.
Yet be not far off, I shall need your help;
See that in the next room I have a fire,
And get me a spit, and let it be red hot.
Mat. Very well.

Gur. Need you any thing besides ?
Light. A table and a feather bed.
Gur. That's all?

Light. Ay, ay; so when I call you, bring it in.
Mat. Fear not thou that.

Gur. Here's a light to go into the dungeon.
[Exeunt GURNEY and MATREVIS.
Light. So now must I about this geer; ne'er
was there any

So finely handled as this king shall be.
Foh, here's a place indeed, with all my heart!
Edw. Who's there? what light is that? where-

fore 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:

Nonce-See Note to Alexander and Campaspe,

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Edw. And there, in mire and puddle have I stood

This ten days space; and least 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 distempered, and my body's numbed;
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 50 tottered robes!
Teli Isabel, the queen, I looked not thus,
When for her sake I ran at tilt in France,
And there unhorsed 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 harbour nought

but death:

I see my tragedy written in thy brows.
Yet stay a while, 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?

Edw. 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. But that grief keeps me waking, I should

sleep;

For not these ten days have these eye-lids closed.
Now, as I speak, they fall, and yet with fear
Open again. O wherefore sit'st thou here?

Light. If you mistrust me, I'll begone, my lord, Edw. No, no; for if thou mean'st to murder me Thou wilt return again; and therefore, stay. Light. He sleeps.

Edw. O let me not die; yet stay, O stay a while. Light. How now, my lord?

Edw. 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.

Enter GURNEY and MATREVIS.

Edw. I am too weak and feeble to resist: Assist me, sweet God, and receive my soul. Light. Run for the table.

Edo. O spare me, or dispatch me in a trice. But not too hard, lest that you bruise his body. Light. So, lay the table down, and stamp on it. [They murder him.

And therefore let us take horse and away.
Mat. I fear me that this cry will raise the town,

Light. Tell me, sirs, was it not bravely done? Gur. Excellent well; take this for thy reward. [GURNEY stabs LIGHT BORN. Come, let us cast the body in the moat, And bear the king's to Mortimer our lord: away. [Exeunt.

Enter MORTIMER and MATREVIS.

Mor. jun. Is't done, Matrevis, and the mur

derer dead?

Mat. Ay, my good lord; I would it were undone, Mor. jun. Matrevis, if thou now growest peni

tent,

Edw. Forgive my thought, for having such a I'll be thy ghostly father; therefore chuse,

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 harbour'st murder in thy heart,
Let this 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 remain?

Light. You're overwatched, my lord; lie down and rest,

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50 Tottered Robes-i. e. taltered, as we now pronounce it. In most writers of this period the word was spelt as above written, and perhaps, as Mr Steevens observes, the present broad pronunciation, almost particular to the Scots, was, at that time, common to both nations. (See Note 6 on King John.) To the several instances there produced may be added the following:

Dekker's Bel-man of London, Sig. 1). 4" The turn spits (who were poore tottered greasie fellows) looking like so many hee divells."

Bel-man's Night walkes, Sig. M. 3:-" By none but the Souldiers of these tottered bands, it is familiarly or usually spoken."

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Than sue for life unto a paltry boy. King. Hence with the traitor! with the murderer!

Mor. jun. Base fortune, now I see, that in thy wheel

There is a point, to which when men aspire,
And seeing there was no place to mount up higher,
They tumble headlong down: that point I touched,
Why should I grieve at my declining fall?
Farewell, fair Queen, weep not for Mortimer,
That scorns the world, and, as a traveller,
Goes to discover countries yet unknown.

King. What! suffer you the traitor to delay ? Queen. As thou received'st thy life from me, Spill not the blood of gentle Mortimer.

King. This argues, that you spilt my father's blood,

Else would you not entreat for Mortimer. [Mortimer borne off.

Queen. I spill his blood! no.

King. Ay, madam, you; for so the rumour

runs.

Queen. That rumour is untrue; for loving thee! Is this report raised on poor Isabel. King. I do not think her so unnatural.

Lords. My lord, I fear me it will prove too

true.

King. Mother, you are suspected for his death,

King. Forbid not me to weep, he was my fa- And therefore we commit you to the Tower,

ther;

And had you loved him half so well as I,
You could not bear his death thus patiently.
But you, I fear, conspired with Mortimer.

Lords. Why speak you not unto my lord the king?

Mor. jun. Because I think scorn to be so accused. Who is the man dares say I murdered him?

King. Traitor! in me my loving father speaks, And plainly saith, 'twas thou that murdered him. Mor. jun. But hath your grace no other proof than this?

King. Yes, if this be the hand of Mortimer. Mor. jun. False Gurney hath betrayed me and himself.

Queen. I feared as much; murder cannot be hid.

Mor. jun. 'Tis my hand; what gather you by this?

King. That thither thou did'st send a murderer. Mor. jun. What murderer? Bring forth the man I sent.

King. Ay, Mortimer, thou know'st that he is slain;

And so shalt thou be too. Why stays he here?
Bring him unto a hurdle, drag him forth;
Hang him I say, and set his quarters up!
But bring his head back presently to me.
Queen. For my sake, sweet son, pity Mortimer.
Mor. jun. Madam, entreat not, I will rather

die,

Till farther trial may be made thereof;
If you be guilty, though I be your son,
Think not to find me slack or pitiful.

Queen. Nay, to my death; for too long have I lived,

When as my son thinks to abridge my days. King. Away with her! her words enforce these tears,

And I shall pity her, if she speak again.

Queen. Shall I not mourn for my beloved lord! And with the rest accompany him to his grave? Lords. Thus, madam, 'tis the king's will you

shall hence.

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EDITIONS.

(1.) The troublesome Raigne and lamentable Death of Edward the Second, King of England: with the tragical fall of proud Mortimer. And also, the Life and Death of Peirs Gaveston, the great Earle of Cornewall, and mighty favorite of King Edward the Second. As it was publiquely acted by the right honorable the Earl of Pembroke his servauntes. Written by Chri. Marlow, Gent. Imprinted at London by Richard Bradocke, for William Jones, dwelling neere Holbourne Conduit, at the signe of the Gunne, 1598, 4to.

(2.) The troublesome Raigne and lamentable Death of Edward the Second, King of England: with the tragical fall of proud Mortimer. And also the Life and Death of Peirs Gaveston, the great Earle of Cornewall, and mighty favorite of King Edward the Second. As it was publiquely acted by the right honourable the Earl of Pembroke his servants. Written by Christopher Marlow, Gent. Printed at London for Roger Barnes, and are to be sould at his shop in Chauncerie Lane, over-against the Rolles, 1612, 4to.

(3.) The troublesome Raigne and lamentable Death of Edward the Second, King of England: with the tragicall fall of proud Mortimer. And also, the Life and Death of Peirs Gaveston, the greate Earle of Cornewall, and mighty favorite of King Edward the Second. As it was publikely acted by the late Queenes Majesties Servants, at the Red Bull in S. Johns-streete. Written by Christopher Marlow, Gent. London printed for Henry Bell, and are to be sold at his shop at the Lame Hospital Gate neere Smithfield, 1622, 4to.

THE HEIR.

BY

THOMAS MAY.

THOMAS MAY, was the son of Sir Thomas May, of Mayfield, in the county of Sussex, knight ; gentleman of an ancient and honourable family, which had resided there many generations. He was born in the year 1595, and received his early education in the neighbourhood of his birth-place; from thence he was removed to Sidney-Sussex College in Cambridge, and took the degree of B. A. in 1612. On the 6th of August, 1615, he was admitted into the society of Gray's-Inn, and soon after became celebrated for his poetical performances.

Lord Clarendon, with whom he was intimately acquainted, says, "That his father spent the fortune which he was born to, so that he had only an annuity left him not proportionable to a liberal education; yet, since his fortune could not raise his mind, he brought his mind down to his fortune, by a great modesty and humility in his nature, which was not affected, but very well became an imperfection in his speech, which was a great mortification to him, and kept him from entering upon any discourse but in the company of his very friends. His parts of nature and art were very good, as appears by his translation of Lucan,.(none of the easiest work of that kind,) and more by his Supplement to Lucan, which, being entirely his own, for the learning, the wit, and the language, may be well looked upon as one of the best epic poems in the English language. He writ some other commendable pieces of the reign of some of our kings. He was cherished by many persons of honour, and very acceptable in all places; yet (to shew that pride and envy have their influences upon the narrowest minds, and which have the greatest semblance of humility) though he had received much countenance, and a very considerable donative from the king; upon his majesty's refusing to give him a small pension, which he had designed and promised to another very ingenious person, whose quali ties he thought inferior to his own; he fell from his duty, and all his former friends, and prostituted himself to the vile office of celebrating the infamous acts of those who were in rebellion against the king; which he did so meanly, that he seemed to all men to have lost his wits when he left his honesty; and shortly after died miserable and neglected, and deserves to be forgotten."

He died suddenly on the night of the 13th of November, 1650, after having drank his cheerful bottle as usual. The cause of his death is said to have arisen from the tying of his night-cap too close under his chin, which occasioned a suffocation when he turned himself about.

He was buried, by appointment of the Parliament, in a splendid manner, in the south aisle of Westminster Abbey, where a monument to his memory was erected, with a Latin inscription thereon, composed by Marchemont Needham; which remained there until the Restoration, when it was destroyed, and his body dug up, and buried in a large pit, belonging to St Margaret's church, with many others, who had been interred in the Abbey during the inter-regnum.

He was the author of the following dramatic pieces:

1. The Tragedy of Antigone, the Theban princesse. 8vo. 1631.

2. The Heire, a Comedy; acted by the company of the Revels, 1620. 4to. 1633.

3. The Tragedy of Julia Agrippina, Empress of Rome, 12mo. 1639. 12mo. 1654.

Life, 8vo. edition 1759, p. 35.

+ Some writers suppose he was disgusted that Sir William Davenant was appointed to succeed Ben Jonson as poet laureat, in the year 1637.

He was appointed to the post of Historiographer by the Parliament.

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