« ZurückWeiter »
Y. Mor. A homely one, my lord, not worth the telling. Edw. Pray thee let me know it.
Y. Mor. But, seeing you are so desirous, thus it is : A lofty cedar-tree, fair flourishing, On whose top-branches kingly eagles perch, And by the bark a canker creeps me up, And gets into the highest bough of all : The motto, Æque tandem.
Edw. And what is yours, my lord of Lancaster ?
Lan. My lord, mine's more obscure than Mortimer's. Pliny reports there is a 2 flying fish Which all the other fishes deadly hate, And therefore, being pursued, it takes the air : No‘sooner is it up, but there's a fowl That seizeth it: this fish, my lord, I bear, The motto this : Undique mors est.
Kent. 3 Proud Mortimer! ungentle Lancaster! Is this the love you bear your sovereign ?
30 Is this the fruit your reconcilement bears?
i Reed refers to Pliny's Nat. Hist., ix, 19; but Pliny merely says that the exocætus would leap on to a rocky ledge in warm weather and there bask in the sun, It is curious that Dyce, who was such an enthusiast for Athenæus, did not refer his readers to the account of the exocætus quoted from Clearchus in Deipnos. viii. 5. According to this authority the fish, when basking on the ledge, has to be constantly on his guard against king-fishers and the like, and when he sees them afar, flies leaping and gasping until he dives under the water. Perhaps Marlowe had in his mind some embellished account that he had found in Gesner or Bellonius.
? So ed. 1612.—Omitted in ed. 1598.
3 Old eds. " Edw." (a misprint for “Edm."--the prefix in the 4tos. to Kent's speeches.)
Can you in words make show of amity,
Queen. Sweet husband, be content, they all love you.
Edw. They love me not that hate my Gaveston.
40 And Æque tandem shall that canker cry Unto the proudest peer of Britainy. Though thou compar’st him to a flying fish, And threatenest death whether he rise or fall, 'Tis not the hugest monster of the sea, Nor foulest harpy that shall swallow him.
Y. Mor. If in his absence thus he favours him, What will he do whenas he shall be present? Lan. That shall we see; look where his lordship comes.
Enter GAVESTON. Edw. My Gaveston !
50 Welcome to Tynemouth! welcome to thy friend ! Thy absence made me droop and pine away; For, as the lovers of fair Danae, When she was locked up in a brazen tower, Desired her more, and waxed outrageous, So did it fare 2 with me: and now thy sight
1 Old eds. "gresses" (for “gesses.")—"Jesses" were the straps round a hawk's legs, with rings (called "varvels,") to which the falconer's leash was attached.
2 So ed, 1622. --Eds. 1598, 1612, “sure."
Is sweeter far than was thy parting hence
Gav. Sweet lord and king, your speech preventeth mine, Yet have I words left to express my joy:
Edw. Will none of you salute my Gaveston?
Welcome is the good Earl of Cornwall !
70 Gav. My lord, I cannot brook these injuries. Queen. Aye me, poor soul, when these begin to jar.
[Aside. Edw. Return it to their throats, I'll be thy warrant.
Gav. Base, leaden earls, that glory in your birth,
Lan. Yet I disdain not to do this for you. (Draws.
1 Old eds. read:“Pem. Here, here, king : convey hence Gaveston, thaile murder
him." I have followed Dyce in giving the line "Convey hence Gaveston,
[Edw.] Convey hence Gaveston; they'll murder him. Gav. The life of thee shall salve this foul disgrace. Y. Mor. Villain ! thy life, unless I miss mine aim.
[Offers to stab him. Queen. Ah ! furious Mortimer, what hast thou done? Y. Mor. No more than I would answer, were he slain.
[Exit GAVESTON with Attendants.
Y. Mor. I'll not be barred the court for Gaveston. 90
Edw. Nay, all of them conspire to cross me thus;
[Exeunt the KING, QUEEN, and KENT. War. Let's to our castles, for the king is moved. Y. Mor. Moved may he be, and perish in his wrath!
Lan. Cousin, it is no dealing with him now,
&c.," to the king ; but I do not agree with him in regarding “king” as a prefix (for in the old copies “ Edw." is always the prefix to the king's speeches.)
Y. Mor. By heaven, the abject villain shall not live!
Lan. And so doth Lancaster.
[Giving letters to MORTIMER. Lan. Why, how now, cousin, how fares all our friends ? Y. Mor. My uncle's taken prisoner by the Scots. Lan. We'll have him ransomed, man; be of good cheer.
Y. Mor. They rate his ransom at five thousand pound. Who should defray the money but the king, Seeing he is taken prisoner in his wars? I'll to the king
Lan. Do, cousin, and I'll bear thee company.
War. Meantime, my lord of Pembroke and myself 120 Will to Newcastle here, and gather head.
Y. Mor. About it then, and we will follow you.
[Exit with PEMBROKE.
1 The reader cannot fail to be reminded of Hotspur :
" But I will find him when he lies asleep,
And in his ear I'll holla 'Mortimer!'