Why then you must. Will you put out mine eyes? These eyes that never did nor never shall

So much as frown on you?

Hubert. I have sworn to do it; And with hot irons must I burn them out.

61

Arthur. Ah, none but in this iron age would do it!
The iron of itself, though heat red-hot,
Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears
And quench his fiery indignatión

Even in the matter of mine innocence;
Nay, after that, consume away in rust,
But for containing fire to harm mine eye.

65

69

Are you more stubborn-hard than hammered iron ?
An if an angel should have come to me
And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes,
I would not have believed him. No tongue but Hubert's-
Hubert. Come forth. [He stamps, and the Executioners
enter with a cord and irons.] Do as I bid you do.
Arthur [clinging to Hubert]. Oh, save me, Hubert,
save me! my eyes are out

Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.

Hubert. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. Arthur. Alas, what need you be so boisterous-rough?

76

I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still.
For heaven sake, Hubert, let me not be bound!
Nay, hear me, Hubert, drive these men away,
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb;

I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word,
Nor look upon the iron angerly:

Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you,
Whatever torment you do put me to.

80

Hubert. Go, stand within; let me alone with him. 84 First Executioner. I am best pleased to be from such a deed. [Exeunt Executioners. Arthur. Alas, I then have chid away my friend: He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart.

Let him come back, that his compassion may
Give life to yours.

Hubert.

Come, boy, prepare yourself.

Arthur. Is there no remedy?
Hubert.

90

None, but to lose your eyes.

Arthur. O heaven, that there were but a mote in yours, A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair,

Any annoyance in that precious sense!

Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there,
Your vile intent must needs seem horrible.

95

Hubert. Is this your promise? go to, hold your tongue. Arthur. Let me not hold my tongue, let me not, Hubert !

Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue,

So I may keep mine eyes: oh, spare mine eyes,
Though to no use but still to look on you!
Lo! by my troth, the instrument is cold,
And would not harm me.

Hubert.

I can heat it, boy.

100

Arthur. No, in good sooth; the fire is dead with grief. There is no malice in this burning coal;

The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out, 105 And strewed repentant ashes on his head.

Hubert. But with my breath I can revive it, boy Arthur. All things that you should use to do me wrong

Deny their office only you do lack

That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends,
Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses.

Hubert. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eyes

For all the treasure that thine uncle owes :

Yet am I sworn and I did purpose, boy,

With this same very iron to burn them out.

115

Arthur. Oh, now you look like Hubert! all this while You were disguised.

Hubert.
Peace; no more. Adieu.
Your uncle must not know but you are dead;
I'll fill these doggèd spies with false reports:
And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure,
That Hubert for the wealth of all the world
Will not offend thee.

120

Arthur. O heaven! I thank you, Hubert. Hubert. Silence; no more: go closely in with me: Much danger do I undergo for thee.

[Exeunt.

41

IV. THE FALL OF EDWARD

THE SECOND

BY CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

The Barons summon the King to dismiss his unworthy favourites, especially Spencer, whom he has made Earl of Gloucester and Lord Chamberlain. On his refusing, they make war upon him. Finding their army too strong for him to fight, he tries to escape to Ireland, taking with him Spencer and an Oxford scholar, named Baldock, whom he also favoured. The wind is against them, and they are forced to land in Glamorganshire. They take refuge at the Abbey of Neath.

SCENE I. THE CAPTURE.

Enter the Abbot, Monks, Edward, Spencer, and Baldock. Abbot. Have you no doubt, my lord, have you no fear;

As silent and as careful we will be

To keep your royal person safe with us,
Free from suspect and fell invasión
Of such as have your majesty in chase,
Yourself and those your chosen company,
As danger of this stormy time requires.

King. Father, thy face should harbour no deceit.
Oh, hadst thou ever been a king, thy heart,
Pierced deeply with the sense of my distress,
Could not but take compassion of my state.
Stately and proud in riches and in train
Whilom I was, powerful and full of pomp;
But what is he whom rule and empery
Have not in life or death made miserable?

Come, Spencer; Baldock, come, sit down by me,
Make trial now of that philosophy
That in our famous nurseries of arts
Thou suck'dst from Plato and from Aristotle
Father, this life contemplative is heaven;
Oh, that I might this life in quiet lead!

But we, alas, are chased, and you, my friends

10

15

20

Your lives and my dishonour they pursue.

Yet, gentle monks, for treasure, gold, or fee,
Do not betray us and our company.

25

Monks. Your grace may sit secure, if none but we Do wot of your abode.

Spencer. Not one alive, but shrewdly I suspect A gloomy fellow in a mead below;

'A gave a long look after us, my lord,

And all the land, I know, is up in arms,

Arms that pursue our lives with deadly hate.

30

Baldock. We were embarked for Ireland, wretched we,

With awkward winds and sore tempests driven
To fall on shore, and here to pine in fear

Of Mortimer and his confederates.

King. Mortimer! who talks of Mortimer ? Who wounds me with the name of Mortimer,

35

That bloody man? [To the Abbot] Good father, on thy lap

Lay I this head, laden with mickle care.
Oh, might I never ope these eyes again,
Never again lift up this drooping head,

40

Oh, nevermore lift up this dying heart! [Falls asleep. Spencer. Look up, my lord. Baldock, this drowsiness Betides no good-[he gives a sudden start] here even we are betrayed!

45

Enter, with Welsh hooks, Rice ap Howell, a Mower, the Earl of Leicester, and some Soldiers.

The Mower. Upon my life, these be the men ye seek. Rice. Fellow, enough. My lord, I pray be short; A fair commission warrants what we do.

Leicester. Alas, see where he sits, and hopes unseen To escape their hands that seek to reave his life. Spencer and Baldock, by no other names,

50

I do arrest you of high treason here;

Stand not on titles, but obey the arrest,

'Tis in the name of Isabel the Queen.

My lord, why droop you thus ?

King. O day, the last of all my bliss on earth, Centre of my misfortune! O my stars,

55

Why do you lour unkindly on a king?

Comes Leicester then in Isabella's name

To take my life, my company, from me?

60

Here, man, rip up this panting breast of mine,
And take my heart in rescue of my friends.
Rice. Away with them.

Spencer.

It may become thee yet To let us take our farewell of his grace.

Abbot. My heart with pity earns to see this sight; 65 A king to bear these words and proud commands ! King. Spencer, sweet Spencer, thus then must we part? Spencer. We must, my lord; so will the angry heavens. King. Nay, so will hell and cruel Mortimer; The gentle heavens have not to do in this.

70

Baldock. My lord, it is in vain to grieve or storm; Here humbly of your grace we take our leaves. Our lots are cast, I fear me so is thine.

King. In heaven we may, in earth never shall we meet ! And, Leicester, say, what shall become of us?

75

Leicester. Your majesty must go to Killingworth. King. 'Must!'-it is somewhat hard when kings must go.

Leicester. Here is a litter ready for your grace,
That waits your pleasure, and the day grows old.
Rice. As good be gone, as stay and be benighted. 80
King. A litter hast thou? lay me in a hearse,
And to the gates of hell convey me hence.
For friends hath Edward none, but these—and these-
[he breaks down]

And these must die under a tyrant's sword.
Rice. My lord, be going, care not for these,
For we shall see them shorter by the heads.

85

King. Well, that shall be, shall be; part we must, Sweet Spencer, gentle Baldock, part we must. Hence, feigned weeds [he throws off his disguise]—un

feigned are my woes.

Father, farewell!-Leicester, thou stay'st for me,
And go I'must'-life farewell, with my friends!

SCENE II. THE DEPOSITION.

90

The King has been brought to Killingworth (or Kenilworth) Castle, the seat of the Earl of Leicester. The Earl of Leicester, the Bishop of Winchester, and Sir William Trussel there demand his abdication.

Leicester. Be patient, good my lord, cease to lament, Imagine Killingworth Castle were your court,