And sit for aye enthronized in heaven! 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. And what eyes can refrain from shedding tears, Edw. And there in mire and puddle have I stood They give me bread and water, being a king; My mind 's distempered, and my body 's numbed, 1 His keepers. 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 naught 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 steadfast 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. 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 harbourest murder in thy heart, Let this gift change thy mind, and save thy soul ! Know that I am a king: O, at that name I feel a hell of grief! Where is Gone, gone! and do I remain alive? my crown Light. You 're overwatched, my lord; lie down and rest. Edw. But that grief keeps me waking, I should sleep; Light. He sleeps. Edw. O, let me not die yet; stay, O, stay awhile! 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! Edw. I am too week 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 death-scene of Marlowe's king moves pity and terror beyond any scene ancient or modern with which I am acquainted.] THE ARRAIGNMENT OF PARIS, A DRAMATIC PASTORAL: BY GEORGE PEELE, 1584. FLORA dresses IDA HILL to honour the coming of the Flora. Not Iris, in her pride and bravery, Nor doth the milk-white way, in frosty night, As doth these fields, and groves, and sweetest bowers, Bestrew'd and deck'd with parti-colour'd flowers. The primrose, and the purple hyacinth, Juno hath left her chariot long ago, And hath return'd her peacocks by her rainbow; They march, like to the pomp of heaven above, The Muses and Country Girls assemble to welcome the Goddesses. Pomona. with country store, like friends, we venture forth : Think'st, Faunus, that these goddesses will take our gifts in worth? Faun. Yea, doubtless, for shall tell thee, dame, 'twere better give a thing, A sign of love, unto a mighty person or a king, Than to a rude and barbarous swain, both bad and basely born, For gently takes the gentleman that oft the clown will scorn. The Welcoming Song. Country Gods. O Ida, O Ida, O Ida, happy hill! Gods. Behold, in sign of joy we sing, Pan. The God of Shepherds, and his mates, Par. Enone, while we bin dispos'd to walk, wrong, That can ne tune my pipe unto a song, [They sit under a tree together. |