Take it. What, are you moved? pity you me? And Isabel, whose eyes, being turned to steel, Come death, and with thy fingers close my eyes, [Berkley Castle. The king is left alone with Lightborn, a murderer.] Edw. Who's there? what light is that? wherefore comest [thou? Lightborn. To comfort you, and bring you joyful news. Edw. Small comfort finds poor Edward in thy looks. Villain, I know thou comest 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 awhile to me, And then thy heart, were it as Gurney's is, Or as Matrevis', hewn from the Caucasus, Edw. 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; 105 110 115 120 125 130 135 140 145 150 As doth this water from my tatter'd robes! Light. O, speak no more, my lord! this breaks my heart. 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, Light. What means your highness to mistrust me thus? [blood, Edw. Forgive my thought, for having such a thought. One jewel have I left, receive thou this. 155 Still fear I, and I know not what's the cause, 160 165 170 But every joint shakes as I give it thee. O, if thou harbor'st murder in thy heart, Let this gift change thy mind, and save thy soul. I feel a hell of grief. Where is my crown? Light. You're overwatched, my lord; lie down and rest. 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 thou mistrust me, I'll be gone, my lord. Edw. No, no, for if thou mean'st to murder me, Light. He sleeps. Edw. O, let me not die; yet stay, O, stay awhile. Light. Edw. How now, my lord? Something still buzzeth in mine ears, And tells me if I sleep I never wake; This fear is that which makes me tremble thus. [“The reluctant pangs of abdicating royalty in Edward furnished hints which Shakespeare 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.". CHARLES LAMB.] 175 XVII CENTURY. BEN JONSON. 5 10 15 20 25 FROM CATILINE. Petreius. The straits and needs of Catiline being such, As if she meant to hide the name of things Do more than they; whilst pity left the field, His frighted horse, whom still the noise drove backward : Consum'd all it could reach, and then itself, Covered the earth they 'ad fought on with their trunks, 40 Collected all his fury, and ran in (Arm'd with a glory high as his despair) Into our battle, like a Libyan lion Upon his hunters, scornful of our weapons, 45 Careless of wounds, plucking down lives about him, Till he had circled on himself with death: Then fell he too, t' embrace it where it lay. And as in that rebellion gainst the gods, Grow marble at the killing sight; and now, Almost made stone, began to inquire what flint, Some of his fierceness, and his hands still mov'd, TO CELIA. Drink to me only with thine eyes, |