Edward The Second Monologue
|Edward The Second Monologue by Christopher Marlowe|
- KING EDWARD: Leicester, if gentle words might comfort me,
- Thy speeches long ago had eas'd my sorrows,
- For kind and loving hast thou always been.
- The griefs of private men are soon allay'd;
- But not of kings. The forest deer, being struck,
- Runs to an herb that closeth up the wounds;
- But when the imperial lion's flesh is gor'd,
- He rends and tears it with his wrathful paw,
- [And], highly scorning that the lowly earth
- Should drink his blood, mounts up to the air:
- And so it fares with me, whose dauntless mind
- Th' ambitious Mortimer would seek to curb,
- And that unnatural queen, false Isabel,
- That thus hath pent and mew'd me in a prison
- For such outrageous passions cloy my soul,
- As with the wings of rancour and disdain
- Full often am I soaring up to heaven,
- To plain me to the gods against them both.
- But when I call to mind I am a king,
- Methinks I sould revenge me of my wrongs,
- That Mortimer and Isabel have done.
- But what are kings, when regiment is gone,
- But perfect shadows in a sunshine day?
- My nobles rule; I bear the name of king;
- I wear the crown; but am controll'd by them,
- By Mortimer, and my unconstant queen,
- Who spots my nuptial bed with infamy;
- Whilst I am lodg'd within this cave of care,
- Where sorrow at my elbow still attends,
- To company my heart with sad laments,
- That bleeds within me for this strange exchange.
- But tell me, must I now resign my crown,
- To make usurping Mortimer a king?
Credits: Reprinted from Masterpieces of the English Drama. Ed. William Lyon Phelps. New York: American Book Company, 1912.