And therefore

say, will you resign or no?

Edw. I'll not resign! but whilst I live, be king.
Traitors be gone, and join with Mortimer.
Elect, conspire, install, do what you will;

Their blood and yours shall seal these treacheries!
Bish. This answer we'll return, and so farewell.
Leic. Call them again, my lord, and speak them fair;
For if they go, the prince shall lose his right.

Edw. Call thou them back, I have no power to speak.
Leic. My lord, the king is willing to resign.

Bish. If he be not, let him choose.

Edw. O would I might! but heav'n and earth conspire To make me miserable! here, receive my crown;

Receive it? no, these innocent hands of mine

Shall not be guilty of so foul a crime.
He of you all that most desires my blood,
And will be call'd the murtherer of a king,
Take it. What, are you mov'd? pity you me?
Then send for unrelenting Mortimer,

And Isabel, whose eyes, being turn'd to steel,
Will sooner sparkle fire than shed a tear.
Yet stay, for rather than I will look on them,
Here, here: now sweet God of heav'n,
Make me despise this transitory pomp,
And sit for ever inthroniz'd in heav'n!

Come death, and with thy fingers close my eyes,
Or if I live, let me forget myself.

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. Edw. Small comfort finds poor Edward in thy looks. Villain, I know thou com'st 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 us'd,
For she relents at this your misery:

And

And what eyes can refrain from shedding tears,
To see a king in this most piteous state?

Edw. Weep'st thou already? list a while to me,
And then thy heart, were it as Gurney's13 is,
Or as Matrevis,13 hewn from the Caucasus,
Yet will it melt, e'er I have done my tale.
This dungeon where they keep me is a sink
Wherein the filth of all the castle falls.
Light. O villains !

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;
So that, for want of sleep and sustenance,
My mind's distemper'd, and my body's numb'd,
And whether I have limbs or no, I know not.
O would my blood drop out from every vein,
As doth this water from my tatter'd robes.
Tell Isabel the queen, I look'd not thus,
When for her sake I ran at tilt in France,
And there unhors'd the duke of Cleremont.

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 nought 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 stedfast 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 stain'd 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.

13 His keepers.

Still fear I, and I know not what's the cause,
But every joint shakes as I give it thee.

O if thou harbour'st murder in thy heart,
Let this gift change thy mind, and save thy soul.
Know that I am a king: Oh, at that name

I feel a hell of grief. Where is my crown?
Gone, gone, and do I still remain alive?

Light. You're overwatch'd my lord, lie down and

rest.

Edw. But that grief keeps me waking, I should

sleep;

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

you mistrust me, I'll be gone, my lord.
Edw. No, no, for if thou mean'st to murder me,
Thou wilt return again; and therefore stay.
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 weak and feeble to resist :

Assist me, sweet God, and receive my soul.14

14 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 moderu with which I am acquainted,

THE

THE RICH JEW OF MALTA, A TRAGEDY: BY

CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE.

Barabas the Rich Jew in his Counting-house, with heaps of
gold before him; in contemplation of his wealth.
Bar. So that of thus much that return was made;
And of the third part of the Persian ships
There was a venture summ'd and satisfied.
As for those Samintes, and the men of Uzz,
That bought my Spanish oils and wines of Greece,
Here have I purst their paltry silverbings.
Fie, what a trouble 'tis to count this trash!
Well fare the Arabians, who so richly pay
The things they traffick for with wedge of gold,
Whereof a man may easily in a day

Tell that, which may maintain him all his life.
The needy groom, that never finger'd groat,
Would make a miracle of thus much coin:
But he whose steel-barr'd coffers are cramm'd full,
And all his life-time hath been tired,
Wearying his fingers ends with telling it,
Would in his age be loth to labour so,
And for a pound to sweat himself to death.
Give me the merchants of the Indian mines,
That trade in metal of the purest mould;
The wealthy Moor, that in the eastern rocks
Without controul can pick his riches up,
And in his house heap pearl like pebble-stones;
Receive them free and sell them by the weight,
Bags of fiery opals, sapphires, amethysts,
Jacinths, hard topas, grass-green emeralds,
Beauteous rubies, sparkling diamonds,
And seld-seen costly stones of so great price,
As one of them, indifferently rated,
And of a caract of this quality,
May serve in peril of calamity

To

To ransome great kings from captivity.

This is the ware wherein consists my wealth:
And thus methinks should men of judgment frame
Their means of traffic from the vulgar trade,
And, as their wealth increaseth, so inclose
Infinite riches in a little room.

But now how stands the wind?

Into what corner peers my Halcyon's bill?
Ha! to the east? yes: see, how stand the vanes?
East and by south: why then, I hope my ships,
I sent for Egypt and the bordering isles,
Are gotten up by Nilus' winding banks.
Mine argosies from Alexandria,

Loaden with spice and silks, now under sail,
Are smoothly gliding down by Candy shore
To Malta, through our Mediterranean sea.

Certain Merchants enter and inform Barabas, that his ships from various ports are safe arrived, and riding in Malta roads. He descants on the temporal condition of the Jews, how they thrive and attain to great worldly prosperity, in spite of the curse denounced against them.

Thus trolls our fortune in by land and sea,
And thus are we on every side inrich'd.
These are the blessings promis'd to the Jews,
And herein was old Abram's happiness.
What more may heaven do for earthly man,
Than thus to pour out plenty in their laps,
Ripping the bowels of the earth for them,
Making the sea their servants, and the winds
To drive their substance with successful blasts ?
Who hateth me but for my happiness?
Or who is honour'd now but for his wealth?
Rather had I, a Jew, be hated thus,
Than pitied in a Christian poverty:
For I can see no fruits in all their faith,
But malice, falsehood, and excessive pride,
Which methinks fits not their profession.
Haply some hapless man hath conscience,
And for his conscience lives in beggary.

They