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    Edward II: "What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?"
    Edward II: "What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?"
    Edward II: "What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?"
    Ebook139 pages1 hour

    Edward II: "What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?"

    By Christopher Marlowe

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    Christopher Marlowe was born in Canterbury to shoemaker John Marlowe and his wife Catherine. His exact date of birth is not known, but he was baptised on 26 February 1564. And with this, Christopher Marlowe, one of the supreme English literary talents, made his entrance into the world. Little is really known of his life except that from an early age, even at University, he was perhaps working as a spy. His short life was filled with writing great works of exceptional quality. From the Jew of Malta to Doctor Faustus and Tamburlaine the Great Parts I & II his pen was the tool by which this great mind bequeathed great works to the world. Add to this so many other stories of what Marlowe was or might have been: a spy, a brawler, a heretic, a "magician", "duellist", "tobacco-user", "counterfeiter", “atheist”, and "rakehell". But certainly add to this; playwright and poet. An original. Christopher Marlowe was buried in an unmarked grave in the churchyard of St. Nicholas, Deptford on June 1st, 1593. Had his life not been so curtailed it seems that the Elizabethan Age may well have had two giants of equal standing: Shakespeare and Marlowe.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCopyright Group
    Release dateNov 27, 2015
    ISBN9781785434846
    Edward II: "What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?"
    Author

    Christopher Marlowe

    Christopher Marlowe, also known as Kit Marlowe, was an English playwright, poet and translator of the Elizabethan era. Marlowe is among the most famous of the Elizabethan playwrights.

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      Book preview

      Edward II - Christopher Marlowe

      Edward II by Christopher Marlowe

      Christopher Marlowe was born in Canterbury to shoemaker John Marlowe and his wife Catherine. His exact date of birth is not known, but he was baptised on 26 February 1564.

      And with this, Christopher Marlowe, one of the supreme English literary talents, made his entrance into the world. 

      Little is really known of his life except that from an early age, even at University, he was perhaps working as a spy.  His short life was filled with writing great works of exceptional quality. From the Jew of Malta to Doctor Faustus and Tamburlaine the Great Parts I & II his pen was the tool by which this great mind bequeathed great works to the world.

      Add to this so many other stories of what Marlowe was or might have been: a spy, a brawler, a heretic, a magician, duellist, tobacco-user, counterfeiter, atheist, and rakehell.

      But certainly add to this; playwright and poet. An original.

      Christopher Marlowe was buried in an unmarked grave in the churchyard of St. Nicholas, Deptford on June 1st, 1593.

      Had his life not been so curtailed it seems that the Elizabethan Age may well have had two giants of equal standing: Shakespeare and Marlowe.

      Index of Contents

      DRAMATIS PERSONAE

      EDWARD II

      CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE – A SHORT BIOGRAPHY

      CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE – A CONCISE BIBLIOGRAPHY

      DRAMATIS PERSONAE

      KING EDWARD THE SECOND

      PRINCE EDWARD, his son, afterwards KING EDWARD THE THIRD

      KENT, brother to KING EDWARD THE SECOND

      GAVESTON

      ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY

      BISHOP OF COVENTRY

      BISHOP OF WINCHESTER

      WARWICK

      LANCASTER

      PEMBROKE

      ARUNDEL

      LEICESTER

      BERKELEY

      MORTIMER the Elder

      MORTIMER the Younger, his nephew

      SPENSER the Elder

      SPENSER the Younger, his son

      BALDOCK

      BAUMONT

      TRUSSEL

      GURNEY

      MATREVIS

      LIGHTBORN

      SIR JOHN OF HAINAULT

      LEVUNE

      RICE AP HOWEL

      ABBOT

      MONKS

      HERALD

      LORDS, POOR MEN, JAMES, MOWER, CHAMPION, MESSENGERS, SOLDIERS, and ATTENDANTS

      QUEEN ISABELLA, wife to KING EDWARD THE SECOND

      NIECE to KING EDWARD THE SECOND, daughter to the DUKE OF GLOCESTER

      LADIES

      EDWARD II

      Enter GAVESTON, reading a letter.

      GAVESTON - My father is deceas'd. Come, Gaveston,

      And share the kingdom with thy dearest friend.

      Ah, words that make me surfeit with delight!

      What greater bliss can hap to Gaveston

      Than live and be the favourite of a king!

      Sweet prince, I come! these, thy amorous lines

      Might have enforc'd me to have swum from France,

      And, like Leander, gasp'd upon the sand,

      So thou wouldst smile, and take me in thine arms.

      The sight of London to my exil'd eyes

      Is as Elysium to a new-come soul:

      Not that I love the city or the men,

      But that it harbours him I hold so dear,—

      The king, upon whose bosom let me lie,

      And with the world be still at enmity.

      What need the arctic people love star-light,

      To whom the sun shines both by day and night?

      Farewell base stooping to the lordly peers!

      My knee shall bow to none but to the king.

      As for the multitude, that are but sparks,

      Rak'd up in embers of their poverty,—

      Tanti,—I'll fawn first on the wind,

      That glanceth at my lips, and flieth away.

      Enter three POOR MEN.

      But how now! what are these?

      POOR MEN - Such as desire your worship's service.

      GAVESTON - What canst thou do?

      1ST POOR MAN - I can ride.

      GAVESTON - But I have no horse.—What art thou?

      2ND POOR MAN - A traveller.

      GAVESTON - Let me see; thou wouldst do well

      To wait at my trencher, and tell me lies at dinner-time;

      And, as I like your discoursing, I'll have you.—

      And what art thou?

      3RD POOR MAN - A soldier, that hath serv'd against the Scot.

      GAVESTON - Why, there are hospitals for such as you:

      I have no war; and therefore, sir, be gone.

      3RD POOR MAN - Farewell, and perish by a soldier's hand,

      That wouldst reward them with an hospital!

      GAVESTON - Ay, ay, these words of his move me as much

      As if a goose should play the porcupine,

      And dart her plumes, thinking to pierce my breast.

      But yet it is no pain to speak men fair;

      I'll flatter these, and make them live in hope.— [Aside.

      You know that I came lately out of France,

      And yet I have not view'd my lord the king:

      If I speed well, I'll entertain you all.

      ALL - We thank your worship.

      GAVESTON - I have some business: leave me to myself.

      ALL - We will wait here about the court.

      GAVESTON - Do.

      [Exeunt POOR MEN.

      These are not men for me;

      I must have wanton poets, pleasant wits,

      Musicians, that with touching of a string

      May draw the pliant king which way I please:

      Music and poetry is his delight;

      Therefore I'll have Italian masks by night,

      Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows;

      And in the day, when he shall walk abroad,

      Like sylvan nymphs my pages shall be clad;

      My men, like satyrs grazing on the lawns,

      Shall with their goat-feet dance the antic hay;

      Sometime a lovely boy in Dian's shape,

      With hair that gilds the water as it glides

      Crownets of pearl about his naked arms,

      And in his sportful hands an olive-tree,

      To hide those parts which men delight to see,

      Shall bathe him in a spring; and there, hard by,

      One like Actæon, peeping through the grove,

      Shall by the angry goddess be transform'd,

      And running in the likeness of an hart,

      By yelping hounds pull'd down, shall semm to die:

      Such things as these best please his majesty.—

      Here comes my lord the king, and the nobles,

      From the parliament. I'll stand aside.

      [Retires.

      Enter KING EDWARD, KENT, LANCASTER, the elder MORTIMER, the younger MORTIMER, WARWICK, PEMBROKE, and Attendants.

      KING EDWARD - Lancaster!

      LANCASTER - My lord?

      GAVESTON - That Earl of Lancaster do I abhor. [Aside.

      KING EDWARD - Will you not grant me this?—In spite of them

      I'll have my will; and these two Mortimers,

      That cross me thus, shall know I am displeased. [Aside.

      Elder MORTIMER - If you love us, my lord, hate Gaveston.

      GAVESTON - That villain Mortimer! I'll be his death. [Aside.

      Younger MORTIMER - Mine uncle here, this earl, and I myself,

      Were sworn to your father at his death,

      That he should ne'er return into the realm:

      And now, my lord, ere I will break my oath,

      This sword of mine, that should offend your foes,

      Shall sleep within the scabbard at thy need,

      And underneath thy banners march who will,

      For Mortimer will hang his armour up.

      GAVESTON - Mort dieu! [Aside.

      KING EDWARD - Well, Mortimer, I'll make thee rue these words:

      Beseems it thee to contradict thy king?

      Frown'st thou thereat, aspiring Lancaster?

      The sword shall plane the furrows of thy brows,

      And hew these knees that now are grown so stiff.

      I will have Gaveston; and you shall know

      What danger 'tis to stand against your king.

      GAVESTON - Well done, Ned! [Aside.

      LANCASTER - My lord, why do you thus incense your peers,

      That naturally would love and honour you,

      But for that base and obscure Gaveston?

      Four earldoms have I, besides Lancaster,—

      Derby, Salisbury, Lincoln, Leicester;

      These will I sell, to give my soldiers pay,

      Ere Gaveston shall stay within the realm:

      Therefore, if he be come, expel him straight.

      KENT - Barons and earls, your pride hath made me mute;

      But know I'll speak, and to the proof, I hope.

      I do remember, in my father's days,

      Lord Percy of the North, being highly mov'd,

      Brav'd Mowbray in presence of the king;

      For which, had not his highness lov'd him well,

      He should have lost his head; but with his look

      Th' undaunted spirit of Percy was appeas'd,

      And Mowbray and he were reconcil'd:

      Yet dare you brave the king unto his face.—

      Brother, revenge it, and let these their heads

      Preach upon poles, for trespass

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