Marlowe's Edward II

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MARLOWE'S EDWARD II

MARLOWE'S EDWARD II

EDITED BY

WILLIAM DINSMORE BRIGGS, PH.D.

ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE
LELAND STANFORD, JR., UNIVERSITY

LONDON

DAVID NUTT

17 GRAPE STREET, NEW OXFORD STREET, W.C.

1914

PR
A'/

CONTENTS

PAGE

PREFATORY NOTE . . vii

INTRODUCTION . . ix

TEXT .... i

LIST OF DATES . -99

NOTES. . . 103

INDEX . . . . ... 207

PREFATORY NOTE

A GOOD deal of the material embodied in the Intro-
duction to this volume was originally contained in
a doctorate thesis submitted by the author to
Harvard University in 1900. Much water, however,
has run under the bridge since that year, and the
Introduction in its present form is quite different
from the thesis. Certain ideas that I then flattered
myself were more or less new are now commonplace
enough ; the ' chronicle history ' has been carefully
studied in the last few years, and hardly any com-
petent scholar who attentively examines the subject
can fail to discover for himself the principal features
of its development. I cannot then pretend to offer
to the world any large fund of new information.
Nevertheless, I venture to print this account of the
growth of an interesting and important species of the
drama in the hope that the reader will find it to be at
least a useful collection of material.

The emphasis, for purposes of clear presentation,
has been laid upon the development of what is
called ' form/ Quite obviously there is no fixed
line to be drawn between form and content, and the
distinction represents an abstraction from the facts
for scientific convenience. This defect, however,

Vlll

EDWARD II

inheres in every attempt to give a rationalized
account of an evolutionary and hence non-rational
process, and is involved in the basic assumptions of
the scientific method. The facts are, then, to a certain
extent distorted, but I have tried to distort them as
little as possible.

My thanks are due for criticism and assistance of
various kinds to Professor A. H. Thorndike, Pro-
fessor Ewald Fliigel, Professor Frederick Tupper,
Junr., and to Professor George P. Baker, under
whose direction the thesis was originally written.
To Professor W. H. Hulme, who was kind enough
to collate Quartos 3 and 4, I am especially indebted.

EDWARD II

INTRODUCTION

IF truth is often stranger than fiction, there is good
reason why it should be so. Life is not at all con-
cerned to abide by our standards of the probable
and the credible, and outrages them at times with
the utmost nonchalance. Art, however, being our
creature, must conform to our habits of thought
and feeling, and so there arises in aesthetic theory
the canon of dramatic credibility. Yet very natu-
rally the canon is variously interpreted at different
times, and it may be entirely ignored, so that when
something happens, for instance, on the stage, its
occurrence will often be accepted by the spectator
on grounds quite irrelevant to any considerations of
art. The mere fact that it has occurred in real life
will often suffice to make it satisfactory or pleasur-
able, without regard to whether it is in itself plau-
sibly presented. As in the story told by Thomas
Leaf in Hardy's novel, the interest does not reside in
the logical evolution of the episode, but simply in
the bare historical character of it, its existence as a

x EDWARD II

brute fact irrespective of relation and significance.
Even Dry den, in a very well-known passage,1
showed that he did not escape the heresy. A hun-
dred years before Dryden the problem of artistic or
dramatic credibility, when it occurred to critics or
readers or spectators at all, was quite completely
solved by the Horatian principle of ' decorum '2 as
regards character, and by the unities as regards in-
cident.3 Even when the Elizabethan drama was at
its apogee, one may doubt whether the question
presented itself in other terms, so far as formal
criticism went, except that Jonson helped to make
matters a little more definite perhaps by the sharp
line he drew between proper and improper subjects
of comedy. Yet when Jonson came to write his-
torical tragedy, he confined himself to the drama-
tization of recorded fact, and refused to introduce
anything for which he did not have some kind of

1 Neander says in the Essay of Dramatic Poesy that Jonson had
been blamed for the character of Morose in the Epicoene on the
ground that his ' humour ' is forced and unnatural. To this re-
proach Neander himself replies to the effect that we may suppose
Morose to have been of a naturally delicate hearing and of a peevish
disposition. More especially, " I am assured from divers persons,
that Ben Jonson was actually acquainted with such a man, one
altogether as ridiculous as he is here represented." It is clear from
the tenor of the discussion following that this consideration was
thought by Dryden to be decisive.

2 See, for example, the preface to Whetstone's Promos and
Cassandra and Jonson's remark to Drummond (Conversations, iii.)
" that Sidney did not keep a decorum in making every one speak as
well as himself."

3 When Sidney ridicules contemporary drama in the Apology
for Poetry he does not mean so much that the incidents it utilized
are in themselves absurd or incredible, as that their representation
is inconsistent with the unities.

INTRODUCTION xi

historical warrant. As a result he failed in the case
of Sejanus to construct anything like a satisfactory
plot, and he showed that he saw no essential differ-
ence between the respective functions of the his-
torian and the historical dramatist.1

In the Elizabethan drama at large there is clearly
seen the same general willingness to accept factual
basis as in itself a sufficient ground for representation
on the stage. No doubt for the Elizabethan many
things were of their own nature dramatically credible
that to-day are not, as for example witchcraft, and
' the grounds of belief " of the Elizabethan audience
would have to be extensively studied before we could
determine how far dramatic credibility was really dis-
regarded at that time. The broad fact remains,
however, that the playwright could hope for a
larger audience and the publisher for a larger sale
by advertising that the episode dealt with in a
particular play was an episode that had actually
taken place and was not merely imagined.2 The
interest that many spectators had in witnessing

1 See Introduction to edition of Sejanus, Belles Lettres Series,
1911, XVI, XXIII, XLI, LIV-V.

2 Thus Truth asserts superior claims to those of Poetry in the
Induction to The True Tragedy of Richard III. In the Induc-
tion to A Warning for Fair Women, although Tragedy does drive
History and Comedy from the stage, yet she turns immediately
to the audience and emphasizes the fact that the play dramatizes
an actual happening ; and in the epilogue she says :

Perhaps it may seem strange unto you all
That one hath not revenged another's death,
After the observation of such course :
The reason is, that now of truth I sing,
And should I add or else diminish aught,

xii EDWARD II

Arden of Fever sham was in kind though doubtless not
in degree precisely the interest they would have
taken in witnessing the murder itself, and is closely
analogous to the interest taken by spectators to-day
in seeing on the stage not an imitation but a real
fire-engine or cow or old oaken bucket. It is at once
clear that such a predisposition will have important
bearings on the selection of material, on its treat-
ment, and incidentally upon problems of definition
and classification.

Not infrequently in Elizabethan literature we
encounter lists of various kinds of dramatic entertain-
ments such as the following : comedies, histories,
tragedies, pastorals, morals, shows,1 in which there
seems apparent some attempt at a classification for
purposes of convenience. Clearly, however, only
for purposes of convenience, since it is plain that
no such list is based on any consistent principle of
grouping, and often a given play might pass from
one to another of these categories according to the

Many of these spectators then could say,
I have committed error in my play.
Bear with this true and home-born tragedy,
Yielding so slender argument and scope
To build a matter of importance on,
And in such form as haply you expected,
What now hath failed to-morrow you shall see
Performed by History or Comedy.

Sidney Lee, French Renaissance in England, 1910, 407, points
out similar claims to truthfulness on the part of French ' domestic
tragedies ' of the second half of the sixteenth century.

1 Cf. Heywood's Apology for Actors, Sh. Soc. PubL, 1841, pp.
28, 54 ; patent issued by James to Shakespeare's company in 1603
(printed in Whalley's Jonson, 1756, I, Ixii) ; Hamlet, II, ii, 414 ff.

INTRODUCTION xiii

taste and fancy of the classifier. The application of
these terms by the Elizabethans is often irritatingly
vague and apparently illogical. Nevertheless the
list corresponds to certain real though blurred
distinctions made both by playwright and by
audience. A ' history ' might contain comic or
tragic elements, or both, and according to their
relative prominence might be called a comedy or a
tragedy ; and yet the word ' history ' had certain
connotations of a more or less well-defined character.
It acquired these connotations, however, gradually,
for it did not possess them when it came first to be
used l in connection with plays, and they never
became quite so definite as to preclude entirely the
use of the word in a looser way.2 At times the
author or publisher felt a desire to avoid ambiguity

1 The word occurs first in the Revels Accounts (ed. Feuillerat,
1908, p. 129) for 1571 : " The histories plaied & Devises in Maskes
this yeare showen at the Coorte." (Cf. also p. n, 1572-3.) 14
December, 1574, occurs " the history of Phedrastus & Phigon and
Lucia." From 1576 on the word is almost the prevailing term, and
is applied to all sorts of plays without apparent reference to subject-
matter or treatment. For instance, Brotanek, Englische Masken-
spiele,i902, pp. 49, 93, thinks that the " Historye of the Cenofalles,"
1576 (Feuillerat, 256), was a mask. (The word ' historia ' and its
derivatives were used on the Continent in the same indiscriminate
way, and we are probably to infer foreign influence as regards the
English use.) An inspection of printed titles, as in Greg, A List of
English Plays, etc., 1900, seems to show a gradual though never
rigid restriction of the word to dramas based on fact (or supposed
fact). Yet Henslowe, I believe, uses the word only in connection
with Dekker's Old Fortunatus and with a play called the Unfortunate
General, about which nothing is known.

* History of Orlando Furioso, pr. 1594 ; History of the two valiant
Knights, Sir Clyomon, etc., pr. 1599 ; History of Antonio and Mellida,
pr. 1602. In view of such titles, one might very well ask whether
Greene really did intend to impose upon the public by calling his
James IV a. Scottish history ; see post.

xiv EDWARD II

or to emphasize the veridical quality of his play, and
then he would substitute for ' history ' a phrase like
' true tragedy '* or add a reference to his putative
source, as in The Famous Chronicle of Edward the
First, pr. 1593. 2 Other characteristic titles, designed
to emphasize truth at the expense of fiction, are
The Troublesome Reign of Edward the Second, The
True and Honorable Historie of the Life of Sir John
Oldcastle, etc. In other words, by 1600 there had
come into existence a large number of plays whose
appeal was based mainly on the advertised authen-
ticity of their subject-matter. Such plays, whether
the facts they dealt with were drawn from English,
Roman, or Oriental sources, would all belong to the
general group of histories.

We must beware of the assumption that what the
Elizabethan meant by history was necessarily what
we mean by the term. Without dwelling at length
on the distinction, which will come out more clearly
in the course of these pages, let us note the fact that
the guarantee of writer or publisher as expressed in
the title of a play is by no means always to be trusted.
Peele in Edward /, in addition to utilizing second-
rate Robin Hood ballads, presented Elinor of
Castile in a light that he must have known was
grossly false. More than one dramatist employed

1 The first use of this phrase occurs on the title-page of Arden of
Fever sham, pr. 1592. We cannot, of course, always be certain that
the printed title was the title originally given by the author, so that
all of these dates are dates of publication ; but the phrases them-
selves were doubtless current much earlier.

* Earliest occurrence of ' Chronicle History/ Stationers' Register,
1594, The most famous Chronicle History of Leir, etc.

INTRODUCTION xv

tradition or at need his own freely exercised imagina-
tion to provide incident or to portray character.
In this attitude toward their material, playwrights
of 1600 were but continuing, as we shall see, usages
and customs of the religious drama itself. How far
the Elizabethan public believed in a given play, how
far it condoned such uncritical or unscrupulous
treatment of historical episodes, how far it protested,
are points that will be brought up again. It is clear
that we cannot draw a sharp line of demarcation
between histories and other plays solely on the basis
of their contents, and it is equally clear that to many
of the incidents handled the epithet historical cannot
be applied in its larger sense. A sensational murder
of forty years back is for us an historical fact, but
hardly the true subject-matter of historical drama.
Such a distinction the Elizabethans did not ap-
parently draw in any explicit fashion, though they
felt undoubtedly a profound difference in tone and
atmosphere between Arden and Henry VI. Yet
both plays were histories, and for that matter
chronicle histories also, differing in dignity and
power of inspiration, but not differently classified.

A distinction based on subject-matter, however,
does seem to appear when we compare plays dealing
with English history and those dealing with the
past of other nations. Difference of source and
difference of character apparently co-operated to
bring about a fairly well-recognized grouping.
Nashe says, for example : " Nay, what if I prooue
Playes to be no extreame ; but a rare exercise of

xvi EDWARD II

vertue ? First, for the subiect of them (for the most
part) it is borrowed out of our English Chronicles,
wherein our forefathers valiant acts (that haue line
long buried in rustic brasse and worme-eaten
bookes) are reuiued, and they themselves raised
from the Graue of Obliuion, and brought to pleade
their aged Honours in open presence : than which,
what can be a sharper reproofe to these degenerate
effeminate dayes of ours ?

" How would it have ioyed braue Talbot (the
terror of the French) to thinke that after he had
lyne two hundred yeares in his Tombe, hee should
triumphe againe on the Stage, and haue his bones
newe embalmed with the teares of ten thousand
spectators at least, (at seuerall times), who, in the
Tragedian that represents his person, imagine they
behold him fresh bleeding. . . .

" Al Artes to them are vanitie : and, if you tell
them what a glorious thing it is to haue Henrie the
fifth represented on the Stage, leading the French
King prisoner/' etc.1

For contemporaries, then, a chronicle history
was a play that drew, or purported to draw, its
materials from the English chronicles, or from some
practically equivalent source. Accordingly, Shake-
speare's Lear was a chronicle history, and was so
called on the title-page of the quarto of 1608, on
which also occurs the characteristic phrase, " life
and death." Macbeth is called merely ' The Tragedy of

1 Pierce Penilesse his Supplication to the Diuell, McKerrow's
Nashe, I, 212 f.

INTRODUCTION xvii

Macbeth / but is, of course, as much a chronicle
history as is Lear. At the same time these plays
differ greatly in method and purpose from Edward I
and Henry VI, and that difference must be taken
into account, though in searching for a stable
criterion to incorporate with the Elizabethan defini-
tion we must keep in mind several facts. In the
first place, the chronicle history, as has already been
indicated and as will appear more plainly, shades off
with the greatest ease into other types of drama, pure
comedy, satirical comedy, tragi-comedy, tragedy. In
the second, our criterion must be measurably indepen-
dent of the unequal poetic gifts of individual writers.
Shakespeare's King John is full of noble poetry and
deep knowledge of human life and character, as the
old King John is not ; both are chronicle histories.
Thirdly, though some chronicle histories are animated
by a lofty patriotic fervour, yet in others that mood
is absent or at least subdued, and one sees plainly
that the playwright uses chronicle material in the
way he would use any material of which the public
was fond, as a catch-penny. No doubt these facts are
never to be lost sight of, but no definition could ex-
plicitly recognize all of them. Our criterion must
then obviously be based on the organization of
material to definite ends. With this must, as
suggested, be combined the Elizabethan distinction
as to sources, partly because it was the Elizabethan
distinction and partly because one cannot, on the
basis of ' form ' alone, distinguish fundamentally
between chronicle histories and other histories, nor

xviii EDWARD II

between histories and at least some other Eliza-
bethan plays that do not have at all an historical
character, like Old Fortunatus.

Let us look for the moment at Heywood's Edward
IV,1 a typical chronicle history of the period during
which this kind of play was most popular. The first
part contains twenty-seven scenes, which are divided
among five distinct lines of interest. The first of
these occupies merely the opening scene, and is that
of the opposition of the king's mother to his marriage
with Elizabeth Woodvile. The treatment of this
episode is quite characteristic of the chronicle '
history method. Such emphasis is laid upon this
opposition that we are led to suppose that in the
marriage is to be found the key to the entire action
of the play. We are confirmed in this inference by
what we know from other sources of the history of
the period. From this union sprang Warwick's
rebellion, the temporary expulsion of Edward from
the kingdom, his return, and the internecine conflict
that terminated in the bloody battles of Barnet and
Tewkesbury, all of which form, if not the chief,
perhaps the most interesting part of Edward's reign.
It is for a drama dealing with these events that the
first scene prepares us. Yet in the following pages
they are not even referred to, are passed over as
though they had never taken place. Between the
first scene and the second an interval of seven years
is annihilated.

1 In two parts, printed 1600. Works of Hey wood, 1874, I. The
play is not divided into acts.

INTRODUCTION xix

The four other lines of interest that are taken up are
as follows : the rebellion of Falconbridge, the king's
meeting with Hobs, the tanner of Tamworth, the
French wars, and the story of Jane Shore. The
first and second of these, occupying respectively
fourteen and seven scenes, are completely disposed
of in the first part of the play, while the third and
fourth are continued into the second part.

There is no sort of organic connection between any
two of these episodes. The materials for the treat-
ment of some of them are drawn from the chronicles,
for others from tales or ballads current among the
people, and they are brought together solely through
the fact that in all of them the king is concerned.
Yet in one of them the part that he plays is slight, for
in the Falconbridge rebellion he appears only at the
last moment for the distribution of rewards.

The second part displays the same structural
features, though we have only three lines of interest
to follow. The first and second of these, the French
war and the Shore episode, are continued from the
previous portion of the drama, and the third is the
Gloster plot. Of these the first is finished up out of
hand. Between the remaining two there exists again
merely another link of personality. In completing
his unhistorical treatment of the story of Shore and
his wife, Heywood introduced the figure of Gloster,
and seems then to have thought that he could not
do better than throw in a few scenes dealing with
themes of such universal interest as the killing of
Clarence and the murder of the princes.

xx EDWARD II

An important fact is that the action of the second
part is not brought to a close with the death of the
principal personage, for, though Edward dies in the
eleventh scene, the play is prolonged for some ten
scenes more.1 Nor is there any decline in interest, as
Gloster merely takes the place of Edward. We could
desire no better illustration of the essential nature
of the type. Heywood might readily have gone on
to dramatize the events of Richard's reign, have
passed with a similar facility from Richard to Henry
VII, and have continued down to his own day. As
matters stand the play is broken sharply off in the
midst of the interesting, characteristic, and eventful
quarrel between Richard and Buckingham.2

1 So in Ay den of Fevers ham, in which the action runs on for five
scenes after the death of Arden himself. Cf . True Tragedy of Richard
Duke of York=3 Henry VI, and the second part of Robert Earl of
Huntingdon.

2 The attempt of Schelling, Chronicle Play, 143-52, to show
that the Shore plot is really the central part of the play, and hence
serves as its kernel, seems to me only partly successful, if so much.
His statement that it is the only one common to the two parts is
inaccurate, since the French wars are prepared for in the last scenes of
pt. i, though the actual expedition into France is not taken up until
pt. 2. Moreover, the Shore episode is not really entered upon until
two-thirds of pt. i is over, unless the appearance of Shore in a totally
different connection in certain earlier scenes is inconsistent with that
statement. The whole of the Falconbridge rebellion, the marriage
scene, and the greater part of the episode of Hobs precede it, and in
the last third of the play much space is devoted to concluding that
episode and to preparing for the French war. In pt. 2 the Shore
interest occupies relatively more space, but the French war is fully
handled in complete independence of it, and other scenes toward the
end serve to dissipate the dramatic interest quite as thoroughly
as in pt. i. Thus as regards method Edward IV may still be con-
sidered to be as nearly typical as any single play can be, for the pro-
cess by which the action of the piece is complicated may be illus-
trated by the arithmetical series i-j-i-f-i . . ., the series being
theoretically limited only by external conditions of time and space.

INTRODUCTION xxi

Evidently there is not to be discovered in Edward
IV any attempt to present events otherwise than in
their accidental or chronological relations. No doubt
there appears to be an attempt to create a kind of
pseudo-unity by the use of various tricks that may
have easily seemed in the early days of the develop-
ment of dramatic technique to be more than mere
tricks,1 i.e. the annihilation of time-intervals, the
interpolation of scenes from one episode into another,
and the interpolation into one incident of figures
from another incident. There is, however, no real
correlation of material. Each line of interest is
independent of every other, save as all are linked
together through the personality of Edward.

Let us then define the chronicle history as
a dramatic composition purporting to draw its
materials from the chro: icles (or from an equivalent
source), treating those materials in a way to bring
out their accidental (particularly their chronological)

1 It would be wholly uncritical not to emphasize the fact that
the comments above are made from the modern point of view, and
not to ask the question how far the generality of Elizabethan play-
wrights down to 1600 and beyond had definite conceptions of unified
structure. The only unity of plot spoken of in the formal criticism
of the day was the unity of classical drama, and that unity, however
much desired by some writers for the popular stage, could be
attained only by classical methods. These they could not employ.
The conception of the other type of unity was of necessity a growth.
It may very well have been that Heywood, and others like him, if
they considered the problem at all, really believed that by the use of
such devices they had succeeded in attaining unification. A careful
and detailed study of the development of the idea of unity in the
modern drama is a desideratum. Such discussions as in Friedland,
" Dramatic Unities in England," Journal of Eng. and Germ. Phil., X,
1911, or in Lounsbury's Shakespearean Wars, Vol. I, cover only a
small portion of the ground.

xxii EDWARD II

relations, recognizing as a rule no other principle of
connection than that of personality, and having the
general character of a survey of a more or less
arbitrarily limited period.1

Need we contrast this method with that of Lear ?
Certainly at no greater length than to note that,
whereas Heywood intended not to develop a plot,
but to narrate a series of events, Shakespeare
desired not merely to narrate a series of events, but
also to develop a plot. The one produced an historical
drama, the other a chronicle history. To draw any
sharp line of demarcation between the two is
perhaps impossible. We may say only that the
chronicle history passes into the historical drama
when the emphasis is shifted from accidental to
organic relations, from post hoc to propter hoc. It
will interest us to see just how the shift came to be
made and from just what point of view.

II

It would be a mistake to draw the inference that
the method typical of the chronicle drama developed
within the chronicle drama itself, and I desire to
point out, at the risk of saying some things that are
the pure commonplaces of dramatic history, that the
' form ' defined in the preceding section, so far at

1 Professor Gregory Smith says (Cambridge History of Eng. Lit.,
V, 152) : " It is a reasonable question whether there is any such
genre as the chronicle or history play, for the term, in its strictest
sense, means no more than a play, presumably a tragedy, which
draws its subject from the national annals."

INTRODUCTION xxiii

any rate as the general arrangement and massing of
material were concerned, was in existence and wide
use before the chronicle plays were thought of.

In the religious drama the human interest, though
it had perhaps existed in a measure from the begin-
ning, was distinctly subordinated, so long as this
drama remained under the control of the clergy,
to the interest of worship and reverence. Later,
however, upon the transference of the conduct of
the religious plays to secular hands, it became more
and more prominent, and with its development
went on the development of characterization. A
good touch in characterization brought about an
extension of the human interest, and an extension
of the human interest afforded additional oppor-
tunities for characterization, until at length in more
than one play the merely human interest came to
overshadow the religious.

Characterization, however, involves in a certain
degree action ; a figure must express itself partly
through what it does. Furthermore, this action is
likely to come more and more to exist for its own
sake, since religion, in such a state of society and in
such a grade of culture as that of the miracle play
audience, affects all men in pretty much the same
way. At the same time, action proceeds by incidents,
and incidents are the raw material of plot. Side by
side with the religious plot, if such it may be called,
there tended to grow up a secular plot, that was
but loosely connected with it.

Of this process as accomplished, the best and most

xxiv EDWARD II

familiar example is perhaps to be found in the
Towneley Secunda Pastorum, wherein we have
not merely two plots unconnected with each other
except through the personalities of the actors, but
also actors in each plot that do not appear in the
other. In other words, the English drama was at
its outset purely religious ; later it added the
element of realism, and thus the unity of effect was
destroyed. This advance, since the religious element
could not be discarded, brought about the develop-
ment of two plots — there was the drama of religion
plus the drama of manners.

Looking at the matter from another point of view
and somewhat more in detail, we may say that the
development of plot in the religious drama proceeded
in several ways. Originally we have a simple
incident taken from the Bible and told in biblical, at
least liturgical language, such as the trope, entitled
Angelica de Resurrectione Christi,1 which, it must be
emphasized, is a mere incident and not a plot or
combination of incidents. Expansion may take
place in either of two ways : another incident
already dramatized may be added to the first, or one
not previously treated may be taken from the
biblical text and combined with it. The result will
be like the Easter Office as Manly prints it,2 in which
at least two incidents are dramatized, the meeting
of the Maries with the angel and their further
meeting with the disciples. Thus we begin to get a
combination of incidents, a fairly connected and

1 Manly, Specimens, I, xxi. * pp. xxii ff .

INTRODUCTION xxv

complete story, as in the fragments of liturgical
plays given by Manly from Skeat.

In all these cases, however, there is little or no
addition to the material supplied by the biblical
narrative. The dialogue is the liturgical dialogue,
and the situations and the figures that take part in
them are all to be found in the original version of the
story. When realism enters into a play in which the
development of plot has not proceeded further than
this stage, then we get an approximation to real life
in the delineation of figures and incidents that are
strictly scriptural, as in the Abraham and Isaac,
which exhibits great tragic power, yet adds little in
the way of incident to the original framework.

The desire for realism was satisfied in other ways
as well. The inevitable expansion of the dialogue
may very well suggest illustrative incidents,1 without
materially altering the main outlines of the story.
If we compare the Chester Noah play, in which
Noah's wife protests but feebly against the plans
of her husband, with the same incident in the
Towneley cycle, we shall see how easily and naturally
this introduction of new episodes may proceed
without changing to any appreciable extent the
original form of the situation.

Expansion, however, might proceed along slightly
different lines. The biblical narrative might suggest
the treatment of incidents only in a remote degree

1 This tendency to illustrate by incidents what is in the original
merely a dialogue is elsewhere exemplified. See latter part of note
i, page xxxii.

xxvi EDWARD II

connected with it. Thus in Chester VI the scenes in
which Octavian figures, although related to the main
theme, are not woven into it as are the additions
just mentioned.

From such interpolations it is an easy transition
to those that are really unrelated to the central
theme. These again may very well have as their
source perhaps bits of dialogue originally introduced
merely for a realistic purpose. In its earlier stage
this process is well represented in the first Shepherds
Play of the Towneley series, in a later stage in the
second Shepherds' Play of the same cycle, as well as
in the Chester Shepherds' Play.

In such plays as these we are to see the starting-
point of chronicle history technique, so far as that
technique had to do with the handling of masses of
material. What we have in the Secunda Pastorum
is the first and simplest stage of the dramatic form
employed by the chronicle history writers, and for
that matter by the Elizabethan playwrights gener-
ally. Their practice of uniting in one play two or
more threads of interest and their pursuit of the
chronological method were in other words merely
the application to a larger and more varied mass of
material of a dramatic form that was the inevitable
outcome of the dramatic conditions of the time.1

1 Thus Jacob's statement, in his edition of Painter's Palace of
Pleasure, 1890, I, xxix, that the Elizabethan drama would have
been subject to the unities but for the influence of the Italian novella,
would seem to be without foundation. The influence of the novella
seems to have made for one type of unity in the drama, instead of
against it ; see pp. Ixxviii ff.

INTRODUCTION xxvii

Yet even within the religious drama we get a
further development than the one just treated, to
be seen, for instance, in the Digby play of Mary
Magdalen.1 Incident, as I have previously said,
suggests incident, and the result is that we have in
the play a sort of chronicle history of Mary's life.
It will repay a slightly longer analysis. In all it
comprises fifty-two scenes, is divided into two
parts, and deals with Mary's life from her early youth
to her death. In it are depicted scenes in the Castle
of Maudleyn, wherein her father, her sister Martha,
and her brother Lazarus take part, her seduction by
a gallant, her repentance and pardon by Christ, her
pilgrimage to the land of Marcyle, with the conver-
sion of the king and queen of that country, and
finally her death. Interspersing these are scenes
dealing with the Emperor Tiberius, the raising of
Lazarus, the pilgrimage of the king of Marcyle to
Jerusalem to be baptized, and the miraculous
preservation of his wife and child. In short, the play
conforms in every respect save that of source to our
definition of the chronicle history. Mary forms the
unifying element, but the dramatist has not limited
the scope of his piece to incidents dealing with her
alone, and has not hesitated to include episodes
with which she was only distantly concerned. Yet
the play is in despite of that fact a biographical
play, and is to be placed in the same category, aside
from the extreme crudeness of the workmanship
and the religious character of the subject-matter,

1 Edited by Furnivall, New Sh. Soc. Publ., 1892.

xxviii EDWARD II

with such dramas as Oldcastle, More, and Crom-
well.1

Two Cornish plays, the Origo Mundi2 and the
Creation of the World* illustrate an important aspect
of this process of growth. The first, for instance,
beginning with the creation, includes Cain and
Abel, Death of Adam, Noah and the Flood,
Abraham, Moses, David and Bathsheba, Building
of the Temple, and the Bridge over Cedron ; thus
it constitutes a survey of a good part of Old
Testament history in preparation for two plays
dealing directly with the life of Christ. The
Creation covers similarly the period from the Crea-
tion to the Flood. Perhaps it is worth emphasiz-
ing that the practice, reprobated by Sidney, for
example, and Jonson, of dealing with great lapses
of time in a single play had its roots in the religious
drama, and that in the habits of mind, the predis-
positions of one generation of play-goers are we to

1 A somewhat similar development is to be noted in the Digby
Burial and Resurrection of Christ. Various views as to the exact
classification of the Mary Magdalen and as to its relation to the
miracle play cycle need not detain us (cf. Schelling, Elizabethan
Drama, 1908, I, 12 ; Chambers, Medieval Stage, 1903, II, 156 ;
Eckhardt, Die. Lustige Person, etc., 1902, 78). There seem to have
existed a number of saints' plays (Chambers, II, 338, 342, 362,
374, 380, 436), but as none of these have been preserved, we cannot
tell how far they resembled the Mary Magdalen structurally. The
extant Conversion of St. Paul is not so striking as the Mary Magdalen,
but exhibits similar tendencies. (There is also a Cornish St. Meriasek,
which I know nothing about.) Other religious plays showing
elaborated and interwoven threads of interest are the Shearmen and
Taylors' Pageant and Weavers' Pageant (Coventry ; ed. H. Craig,
Early English Text Society, 1902).

2 Chambers, II, 433.

* Chambers, II, 435 ; apparently founded on the Origo Mundi.

INTRODUCTION

XXIX

look for the chief explanation of the aesthetic
standards of the next. Often well-marked tastes
and preferences on the part of the Elizabethan
audience, like certain facts of Elizabethan staging
and scenery, can be understood only by finding out
just what earlier spectators were accustomed to see.1
No matter what the extent to which realistic or
traditional material may have forced its way into
the miracle play in its various stages, the writer
could not, even in the second Shepherds' Play, omit
his biblical incidents entirely, nor as a rule of
course did he wish to do so.2 He had to do with a
situation more or less fixed, and when he wished
to introduce any other incidents than the traditional
ones, he was in many instances forced to give them
their own setting. In the morality, however, as
every student says in turn, the author had com-
paratively a free hand. He was not dealing with a
fixed situation, and could consequently contract or
expend his central action as he chose. At the same
time, he had a fixed theme to expound, the relation
of man to the world, the flesh, and the devil. Hence

1 It is the popular drama to which attention has been given in
the pages above, but perhaps reference should be made to the fact
that Creizenach calls Foxe's Christus Triumphans " ein weltges-
chichtliches Bild," and that the Pammachius had a similar character
(Geschichte des neueren Dramas, II, 87, 142 ; cf. also 108-9).

8 Very strange material did sometimes make its appearance.
" The Dublin plays can hardly be called a cycle ; they represented,
to be sure, the stories of Adam and Eve, of Joseph and Mary, of
the passion, and of the deaths of the apostles ; but they included,
with a somewhat ludicrous catholicity of aesthetic appeal, the story
of Crispin and Crispinianus, the adventures of Bacchus and of
Vulcan, and the Comedy of Ceres." (Gayley, Plays of our Forefathers,
1907, 141).

xxx EDWARD II

the interest was from the beginning centred in man,
or the figure that stood for man ; through him the
incidents found their connection. Accordingly,
many of the moralities are distinctly ' biographical '
in character, and a perfectly definite contribution of
the morality to the development of English dramatic
technique was the unity of personality.1

The morality form thus tended to a certain unity,
and in so far as the element of conflict received
stress seemed on the highway to the development
of plot in the stricter sense, since perhaps we may
roughly define plot for our present purposes as a
series of episodes exhibiting the process by which
there is attained a state either of quiescence or of
stable equilibrium on the part of conflicting forces.
Disintegrating influences were, however, still active,
and their effects are observable. The exploitation
of the comic interest introduced extraneous episodes.2
The intrusion of new themes, polemic, pedagogical,
political,3 into a drama of primarily ethical purpose
had occasionally similar results. It has been
suggested 4 that the limited number of actors in the
typical professional troop of about 1550 was partly
responsible for imperfect plotting. We should also

1 No doubt the Mary Magdalen observes the unity of person-
ality. Yet we do not know, after all, that there were many plays of
that type (see note, p. xxviii), and it is certainly better to regard
this unity as the contribution of a large class of plays in which it
was naturally developed.

2 Eckhardt, ibid., 71-2, 116.

3 Schelling, El. Drama, I, 57 ff.

4 Brandl, Quellen des Weltlichen Dramas, etc., 1898, Ixvii-lxviii ;
cf. Creizenach, Geschichte des Neueren Dramas, III, 575.

INTRODUCTION xxxi

take into account the naive interest of the Eliza-
bethans in accessary and illustrative detail, some-
times realistic in character.1 To draw a sharp line
between what would tend to heighten and con-
centrate the dramatic interest and what would tend
to dissipate it and so loosen dramatic structure is
impossible, but the distinction should be noted as
bearing on the episodic nature of Elizabethan plays.
And, furthermore, we must recognize the dis-
organizing influence of the miracle play cycle as a
whole. Many of the plays in these great cycles were
not longer than many of the scenes in later drama.
To the spectator they served but as scenes in ihat
larger play, that world-drama, what we might call
perhaps fancifully the chronicle history of the
universe, in course of evolution before him. Yet
these separate scenes had no special connection
with one another, save through their common
dependence upon the central theme. Why, then,
when the same spectator came to view any other
performance, should he demand that it be character-
ized by a stricter unity ?

Into a minute appraisal of these various influences
we cannot go. What stands out pretty clearly is that
native tradition ran in favour of organizing the
action on the basis of the survey of a period : of a
series of years covering the religious history of the

1 Cf. the ' cry of hounds ' in Edwardes' Palamon and Arcyte,
Schelling, II, 57 ; an important note on this performance is in
Wallace, Evolution of the English Drama, 1912, 112, n. 4. Moreover,
the dumb shows are important in this connection, see note below,
p. Ivi.

xxxii EDWARD II

race (miracle cycle), covering the life of an individual
symbolizing the race (morality), covering a fairly
well marked off portion of history, mythical or
religious (Chester Creation; cf., later, Hey wood's
Four Ages), covering the life of an historical person-
age (Mary Magdalen, Tamburlaine, Cromwell, Sir
Thomas More). These plays hardly represent differ-
ent ideals of structure, and are hardly to be classified
on such a basis.

Stated in more definite, and hence probably more
disputable terms, the conclusion just reached
amounts to this : Upon the morality form, of which
the ideal was a certain type of unity, but which
contained, nevertheless, disruptive elements, there
acted possibly the disintegrating influence of the
miracle play, reinforced by the disintegrating
influence of the miracle play cycle,1 and there
developed a form like that of Damon and Pythias,
in which the interest attaching to a central person-
ality served as a thread upon which to hang what
might be called scene-pendants. This form was
that employed by the chronicle history.

1 A similar disintegrating influence was experienced by the
classical form when it came into contact with the popular drama.
Schucking, Studien iiber die stofflichen Beziehungen dev englischen
Komodie zur Italischen, 1901, 38, notes the fact that the translator
and adapter of La Spiritata added a number of scenes that do not
assist the action. The mixture of styles in Locrine will at once occur
to the reader, and Fischer, Kunstentwicklung der englisohen Tvagodie,
*893, 25, reminds us that in the translations of Seneca are sometimes
added scenes that bring on the stage incidents only mentioned in the
original.

INTRODUCTION xxxiii

III

The study of the way in which the dramatic form
thus evolved came to be applied to a larger and
more complex mass of material in the shape of
English history is itself a study not of form but of
the transformation of content. When, for example,
did the chronicle history itself come definitely into
existence, and in virtue of what forces did it acquire
its predominant position in the drama of 1590-
1600 ?

For the first appearance of history in the direct
line of dramatic development we are to hold the
didacticism of the moralities1 responsible. A moral
lesson is best enforced through concrete examples,
and the concrete examples that would most strongly
appeal to the people of the time, as we know from
their conception of tragedy,2 were those having to do
with the high in station— kings, princes, and nobles.
In the very nature of things ' historical moralities '
would come into existence as one of the first stages
in the de-moralization of a didactic drama. No
doubt we have no information absolutely determin-
ing the ethical purpose of the earliest play mentioned
as having an historical subject, King Robert of

1 The expansive character of the miracle cycle did result in the
introduction of a few historical figures not in the Bible, like Octavian
and Tiberius, but they are not numerous (cf. Ward, History of
English Dramatic Literature, 1899, I, 169), and I do not see that we
need to consider them.

a Cloetta, Beitrdge ZUY Litteraturgeschichte des Mittelalters, etc,,
1890, I, 28 ff. ; Creizenach, I, 9, 12,
C

xxxvi EDWARD II

Sicily,1 but to assume that it was other than a moral
play dealing with the well-known legend would be
gratuitously absurd. Of extant plays, Preston's
Cambyses, printed 1569, will serve to exemplify
historical moralities of purely ethical purpose. It is
made up of a number of incidents relating to Cam-
byses, illustrating some the good, others the bad
side of the king's nature, and finding their connection
solely through him. For the purposes of comic
relief are thrust in matters with which he has nothing
to do, as the episode of Huf, Ruf, Snuf, and Mere-
trix.

If we may consider religious controversy as at
bottom ethical, it was likewise an ethical purpose
that inspired Bale to the writing of Kynge Johan.
He had a definite moral and political end in view.
The burning question was whether England should
be under the domination of Rome. He conceived
that he could not better ensure her continuance in
the present struggle for freedom than by showing
what had been the evil results of a previous sub-
mission. The controversial drama of the succeeding
decades, the plays like Albion Knight and Respublica,
had behind them a similar desire, to further in one
way or another the social and political development
of England. In this way English history and matters
relating to the existence of England as a nation, in
other words, the national existence of England, came

1 Chambers, II, 356 ; played 1529, but dating back to the reign
of Henry VII. There was apparently a Ludus de Kyng Robert of
Ctsill played at Lincoln, 1452-3, ibid., 378.

INTRODUCTION xxxv

to play a part in the English drama.1 Kynge Johan,
however, differed from other extant polemical plays
in that it utilized a particular historical situation
and a particular historical figure. It is important,
not on account of its merit or its influence, but
because it illustrates a preliminary stage through
which, under the conditions of the time, English
history necessarily passed before it could become
an independent and self-sufficient dramatic theme.

Gorboduc, though a product of the learned drama
from one point of view, yet through its neglect of
the unities and its didactic purpose 2 allies itself with
the contemporary popular drama in important
respects, and may very properly be considered as
illustrating a stage of the treatment of English
history following upon that of Kynge Johan. The
allegorical figures have disappeared, and the action
admits of statement in the form of a narrative rather
than in that of a thesis. But the raison d'etre of the
piece is still political. English history is not yet
presented for its own sake or for the sake of its
intrinsic dramatic interest. A distinct step, however,
has been taken toward freeing that kind of subject-
matter from entangling political and religious
alliances.

1 " And amongst the rest, in one play, they represented King
Philip, the late Queen of England, and Cardinal Pole, reasoning
together about such things, as they imagined might have been said
by them in the matter of religion." (Calendar of State Papers, Venetian,
1559, May 4).

2 The fullest discussion of the play's admonitory aim is in H. A.
Watt, Gorboduc ; or, Ferrex and Porrex, University of Wisconsin
Bulletin, 1910, 33 ff.

xxxvi EDWARD II

During the period following Gorboduc the course of
the drama lay towards the expulsion of alien moral
and political elements. Plays of a definitely con-
troversial cast were still forbidden by the Govern-
ment ; no dramatist was permitted to meddle with
politics, and the substitution of human for alle-
gorical figures, of real life for abstract symbolism,
proceeded rapidly, assisted as it was by the con-
comitant absorption of classical and Italian subjects
and ideals. It was inevitable that English history
should share in the general progress of dramatic
motives, and should come within the next few years
to be treated for its own sake.

The course of this process it is not easy to trace
with precision, because of the lack of definite
evidence. The subject is not recognized in con-
temporary criticism, and the plays of the time, even
their names, are no longer preserved in any number.
Yet there are one or two considerations that may be
of use to us in arriving at more solid results.

It is true that the element of social and political
morality was not entirely expelled by 1579, f°r we
find that Gosson, the determined enemy of plays and
players, is willing to allow a certain praise to a
drama called Ptolome, " very lively descrybing ho we
seditious estates, with their owne devises, false
friendes, with their owne swoordes, and rebellious
commons in their owne snares are overthrowne." J
Clearly this was a play somewhat, if not altogether,
in the didactic style of Cambyses — a conclusion borne

1 School of Abuse, ed. Arber, p. 40.

INTRODUCTION xxxvii

out by the fact that Gosson is willing to have such
plays presented under certain conditions. His own
drama of Catilins Conspiracies was probably of the
same character. Nevertheless, it is sufficiently clear
that there were in existence at this time historical
plays that approached more nearly to our own
conception. They seem to be first mentioned in
Lodge's Play of Plays.'1

Prynne tells us that The Play of Plays defends
histories on the ground that they instruct the people
in history and are thus useful. Now The Play of
Plays was produced in 1580, and in answer to
Gosson's School of Abuse. The plays that are
defended then can hardly be those that Gosson is
willing to allow, namely, historical plays with a
specifically moral aim. Rather Lodge must be
trying to justify on didactic grounds historical plays
of which the didactic character was not at first sight
apparent.

If, however, this inference be not conclusive as to
the point, let us see what Gosson says in Plays
Confuted : " If a true Historic be taken in hand, it
is made like our shadows, longest at the rising and

1 1580. Non-extant, but cf. Gosson's Plays Confuted in Five
Actions, Action 4, and Prynne, Histriomastix , 1632-3, pp. 719, 733,
and particularly 940-1 . I do not see why Symmes, Les Debuts de la
Critique Dramatique en Angleterre, etc., 1903, 94, should refuse to
accept, at least provisionally, Prynne's attribution of the play to
Lodge. Prynne's statement is explicit ; his marginal note, p. 940,
is : " See Thomas Lodge, his Play of Plays." Writing 1630, he could
hardly have referred in that way to the mere performance of a play
in 1580. The logical inference is that there was a printed copy, to
which he referred his readers, and which attributed the play to
Lodge.

xxxviii EDWARD II

falling of the Sunne, shortest of all at hie noone.
For the Poets drive it most commonly unto such
pointes, as may best showe the majestic of their pen,
in Tragicall speaches ; or set the hearers agogge,
with discourses of love ; or painte a fewe antickes,
to fitt their owne humors, with scoffes & tauntes;
or wring in a shewe, to furnish the Stage, when it is
to bare ; when the matter of it selfe comes shorte of
this, they followe the practise of the cobler, and set
their teeth to the leather to pull it out/'1 In
illustration, he points to the " history of Caesar
and Pompey, and the Playe of the Fabii " as having
been written in this fashion. Are not such histories
as these very different from those of the earlier
period of Elizabeth's reign, Cambyses, for instance ? 2
Is it to be presumed that English history did not
follow in this respect the course apparently taken
by history in general ? Knowing that English
history formed an element in the earlier contro-
versial drama, believing that history in general
came to be treated in and for itself, without perhaps
any ulterior aim on the part of the playwright, may

1 Plays Confuted, sig. D 4-5. Gosson's use of the term ' true
history ' is perfectly clear. But when Sidney says (Apologie, ed.
Arber, 64), " lastly, if they will represent an history," it is not clear
what he means. The context preceding suggests that history
means historical truth or fact. The illustration is the story of
Polidorus in Euripides, which Sidney probably, but not certainly,
considered historical.

2 As perhaps significant in this connection should be noted the
occasional appearance of historical themes in the development of
the masque, Brotanek, Englische Maskenspiele, 56—8, and perhaps
also the substitution for the Coventry miracles in 1584 of The
Destruction of Jerusalem (Chambers, II, 113, 361).

INTRODUCTION xxxxi

we not with justice conclude that so early as
1580 the chronicle history had appeared on the
stage ? I

Though this conclusion would seem to be logical,
we must admit, as above suggested, that it is not to
be dogmatically asserted. We cannot produce many
titles to support it. Professor Schelling, in the list
of plays on English subjects that he has supplied to
his work on the chronicle history, mentions several as
having been written before 1580. Of these, Kynge
Johan and Gorboduc have been touched upon.
Others are at best somewhat doubtful as regards their
place in the dramatic category under discussion.
Thus one wonders whether Gosson's play of The
Blacksmith's Daughter belongs in this list, for Gosson
expressly tells us that it contained " the trechery of
Turkes, the honourable bountye of a noble minde,

1 " And it is impossible to resist the conjecture that English
history must have received crude presentation in the public theatres
much earlier than we have any record of." (Thorndike, Tragedy,
1908, 74.) Collier, II, 455, dates the old Henry V " not long after
1580," and Schelling, Chronicle Play, 1902, 276, places it in 1580,
though in Elizabethan Drama, I, 257, he conjectures 1586-7. Baeske,
Oldcastle : Falstaff, Palaestra L, 1905, 75, says : " Durch den
Einfluss des ' Tamerlan ' und der komplizierten Historientechnik
des Marlowe beschrankt sich die Abfassung weiter auf die Zeit von
1587-88." He gives no evidence of this supposititious Marlowe
influence and would doubtless be puzzled to point out in what it
consisted. Proof of it would be interesting. Kabel, Die Sage von
Heinrich V, Palaestra LXIX, 1908, 65-6, is more precise and date?
the play July-September, 1588. He says nothing of Marlowe,
but thinks, with Baeske, that " die grosse Kraft und Frische "
shown in the handling of the plot must have had something to do in
some way with the Armada. (Ward, I, 223, had unfortunately re-
marked of this play that " its general vigour and freshness are con-
siderable," but had wisely refrained from committing himself to a
particular date.)

xl EDWARD II

and the shining of vertue in distresse." 1 Can we be
certain that the play of Alucius had a subject taken
from English history ? The same thing is to be
said of The Irish Knight, whether or not identical
with Cutwell.2 So far as we are aware, the material
treated in it might have been utterly unhistorical.
The Robin Hood plays, too, though they seem to
indicate the existence of a widespread popular drama
that may have very remotely prepared the way for
the chronicle history, need not be specifically con-
sidered here.3

There remain, then, two non-extant English plays,

1 School, p. 40.

1 Feuillerat, Revels, u.s., 461.

3 Relations of such plays to the ' regular ' drama are considered
by Ordish, Folk-Lore, Vols. II, IV. Schelling, Chronicle Play, 6 ft.,
discusses these and considers them as preparatory of the historical
drama. It is doubtful whether they should be so considered. No
question the people believed that Robin Hood and Saint George had
actually existed and that in the plays and the ballads dealing with
them was to be found a more or less trustworthy account of their
doings. But it seems clear that they were not so much interested
in Robin Hood, for example, as a definitely historical personage as
they were in him as somehow the mouthpiece and expression of their
ideals and emotions. Thus the ballads of Robin Hood may be
thought of as quite different in tone and atmosphere from the con-
sciously and purposefully historical ballads of which Aubrey tells us
(see post), and it is among these that we should seek for the analogues
and preparatory antecedents of the chronicle play, so far as content
at least is concerned.

The Hok Tuesday Play stands, of course, in a class by itself. As is
clear from Laneham's letter, its definitely historical interest and
character had by the middle of the sixteenth century, and perhaps
much earlier, come prominently into the foreground. Whatever its
origin, it had come to be associated with a particular historical event
and to symbolize the struggle of the English nation with a foreign
invader, and it was on the ground of its historical and national
significance that its presentation before the queen was urged. " The
thing, said they, iz grounded on story, and for pastime woont too
bee plaid in oour Citee yeerely." " As containing," says Schelling,

INTRODUCTION xli

The Tragedy of the King of Scots (1567) and The
Siege of Edinburgh (1573), and two extant Latin
plays, Byrsa Basilica (1570) and Richardus Tertius
(1579). Of the first two we know practically nothing
definite. Probably The King of Scots contained
allegorical elements.1 Of the Latin plays it is
difficult to speak briefly. Byrsa Basilica seems not
to have freed itself from the morality . 2 To Richardus
Tertius Professor Churchill attributes a great influ-
ence on later historical drama. This I have myself
been unable to discern,3 and from my point of view

p. 1 6, " the representation of an historical event in action by means\^
of dialogue, of a character altogether secular and animated by a \
purpose free from didactic intent, The Hock Tuesday Play must be )
regarded as the earliest dramatic production fulfilling, if rudely, the /
conditions of a national historical drama." /

Madden 's conjecture as to the existence in the thirteenth century
of a semi -historical Haveloc Play (Schelling, Elizabethan Drama, I,
50) may be passed over.

1 See warrant, June n, 1568, Feuillerat, Revels, u.s., 119, in
which " the Pallace of prosperitie Scotlande and a gret Castell one
thothere side " occur as apparently belonging to the furniture for
the King of Scots mentioned a few lines previously. For specula-
tion as to the subject-matter, see Feuillerat's note, 449.

2 Schelling, Chronicle Play, 21 ; Churchill, Shakespeare Jahrbuch,
xxxiv, 281 ; in any case, there does not seem to be much that is
historical in it.

3 See also Schelling, Chronicle Play, 21 ; Elizabethan Drama, I,
255 ; Thorndike, Tragedy, 60, where it is very pertinently suggested
that " its adherence to sources and its looseness of structure may have
been reflections from the public stage." It might further be said
that Watt, Gorboduc, u.s., 89, has quite as much ground for calling
Gorboduc " the first of the Chronicle Plays " as has Churchill for
applying a similar term to Richardus Tertius (Richard the Third up
to Shakespeare, 1900, 270). Lack of space prevents adequate dis-
cussion of Churchill's position, but I cannot forbear pointing out
that the influence of the popular drama upon the humanistic or
learned drama, both continental and insular, is a quite patent and
unmistakable thing. (Creizenach's second volume, Buch I, bristles
with evidences, and the note at the bottom of p. 60 of Thorndike is

xlii EDWARD II

Richardus Tertius is chiefly valuable as helping us
to believe that by 1580 English history had become
an independent and self-sufficient dramatic theme.

IV

One may or may not believe that chronicle
histories were being written by 1580 ; one cannot
ignore the fact that by the early nineties they were
more numerous and more popular than plays of any
other kind. There was by that time in existence a
national historical drama, national, that is, not
alone by virtue of its subject-matter, but because it
embodied in plays of no doubt unequal merit and
often of trivial character, the prof oundest sentiments
by which the English people were collectively
inspired — pride in a great past, exultation in a great
present, superb confidence in a great future. Such
a drama, one feels, could pass through a develop-
ment so luxuriant only when certain conditions had
been fulfilled — when the people, nationalized, homo-
geneous, feeling and acting pretty much as one,
had become capable of taking a deep and active
interest in its own past ; when it had become

quite in point. Nor would anyone for a moment think of asserting
that the treatment of plot in Gorboduc was anything but a reflection
of the dramatic conditions of the time. That was just what Sidney
disliked in it). That the author of The True Tragedy of Richard III
did, however, borrow in some degree from Richardus Tertius is clearly
shown by Churchill and should not be lost sight of.

1 Sarrazin, William Shakespeares Lehrjahre, 1897, 19, says that
it is improbable that there should have been a foundation-piece for
pt. i of Henry VI " weil es iiberhaupt erst um 1588 iiblich wurde
Historien zu schreiben."

INTRODUC,TION

awakened to a sense of its o\\ Tn greatness ; when
there had come into being a drama ^c form by which
historical material could be presented^ m sucn a way
as to reveal just those aspects of it c.^-f wnich the
public felt most deeply the inspiration. ThVo problem
of ascertaining how these conditions were met--, m the
years between 1580 and 1600 becomes much sin^pjer
than it would otherwise be when we perceive thY^t
after all we are not so much concerned with England v
as a whole as we are with London, not so much with
the English people as with the London populace,
except, of course, in so far as the mood of the
London populace was the national mood, intensified,
heightened, articulate.1 All Englishmen, for ex-
ample, hated foreigners, but it was London that
had its evil May-day. It becomes, too, a little
simpler yet when we realize that this homogeneity
did not arise out of identity of economic conditions,
of political belief, or of religious creed, but was the
product of the common participation, individually

1 In London, remarks Creizenach, IV, 193-4, " 3ede Gasse, jede
Kirche, jedes offentliche Gebaude wurde durch grosse Erinnerungen
verklart. Hier erstreckte sich noch der Strassenzug, durch den
einst der Rebellenhaufen, von Jack Cade gefuhrt, sich herbeiwalzte,
dort erhob sich das alte Gebaude mit dem Jerusalem-Zimmer, worin
Heinrich IV. verschied, dort Baynard's Castle, wo die Londoner
Burger Richard dem Dritten die Krone anboten. . . . Aber mehr
als in alien den Fallen, die hier sonst noch erwahnt werden konnten,
gilt die Wahrheit des Gesagten fur den Ort, an dem uns noch heute
wie vielleicht an keinem andern dieser Welt der Schauer der
Vergangenheit uberkommt : in dem Halbdunkel des Gewolbes der
Westminster-Kathedrale, wo die Helden und Herrscher der Vorzeit,
die in ihrer Liebe und in ihrem Hass, in ihren Grosstaten und ihren
Verbrechen von den Dichtern neubelebt waren, auf den machtigen
steinernen Sarkophagen ausgestreckt Hegen."

xliv EDWARD II

various as it might ^be, in those large and generous
emotions, the px'ide, the exultation, the superb
confidence. Tfaese, for a brief, glorious moment, were
shared by Catholic and Puritan, courtier and citizen,
master ar>i£i man. And so we can speak of a national
unanimity of thought and action, and of a national
historical drama.

/It is no doubt the duty of the historian to describe
in detail how such a unanimity was eventually
achieved, but the process as a whole cannot be
entirely ignored in a serious study of the chronicle
play, and there are phases of it upon which we may
even dwell for a moment, owing to the peculiar
interest they possess. Certainly Henry VIII did
not leave behind him a united people, and during
the two following reigns the forces of dissension
became ever stronger and more threatening. Re-
ligious persecution, political discord, economic up-
heaval, an exhausted exchequer, a debased currency,
military defeat, these were some of the factors that
brought England into a state of sullen despondency,
lightened only by the hope of Elizabeth's succession.
Under such circumstances controversial plays like
Kynge Johan and Respublica may be composed, but
quite obviously a great change in the state of the
nation must come about before the people will take
that exultant interest in their own past which is the
necessary condition of a flourishing patriotic drama.
During the first half of Elizabeth's reign the
change took place. The political exigencies that
forced Philip of Spain, ambitious to realize the vast

..

INTRODUCTION xlv

projects of his father, to maintain peace with
England at almost any price, lest she be thrown
into the arms of France, his hereditary rival, together
with the obstinacy of the Pope in demanding
restitution of confiscated Church property to the
uttermost farthing, assisted Elizabeth's own wise
and moderate policy in substantially harmonizing
religious opinion throughout England. For on the
one hand Philip made no opposition to such changes
in the ritual and practice of the Church as Elizabeth
thought needful ; on the other, the Pope brought
about, through ill-judged bulls of deposition and
continual incitements to revolt, a practical identifi-
cation of patriotism and the Protestant religion, to
which economic rivalry with Spain contributed its
due share. Through the operation of these social
forces, England, which from the point of view of its
political sympathies was already Protestant, became
actually such, and when the Armada appeared off
the coast, even the remaining Catholics rose in a
body to defend their country.1

This movement toward unity was forwarded by
other influences, notably that exerted by the great
development of popular historical writing during
the sixteenth century. Of course English histories
had been earlier written, and many of them. The
thread of historical composition, from the time of
the Saxon Chronicle, though divided into a thousand
minute filaments, had been perfectly continuous.

1 Compare Hey wood's // You Know not me, etc., Works, 1874,
I. 338.

xlvi EDWARD II

The line of descent was at once direct and collateral.
Chronicler borrowed from annalist, annalist con-
tinued chronicler, and no Renaissance atmosphere
was needed for the domestication of the Muse of
History in Great Britain. Her habitation, however,
had been a religious cell, her customary garb con-
ventual. She had spoken usually a foreign tongue,
and her walks abroad had been confined to the
paths that united abbey with abbey, monastery
with monastery. Hardly had she deigned to tarry
at the squire's hall or the yeoman's cottage. The
inventory of Sir John Paston's library contains no
work of history, though law books and romances
are numerous.1

In the later fifteenth century, then, the study of
history was hardly an active social force, hardly
more an active intellectual one. In the sixteenth
century the situation changes, and it becomes
necessary for us to take account of the unifying
influence of the chronicles themselves during the
period between the publication of Caxton's Chronicle
of Brute and the second edition of Holinshed. The
great outburst of chronicle plays in the last part
of the century is in very great measure to be ex-
plained by the interest which the people at large
took in the history of England, the feelings with
which that interest inspired them, and the harmony
of thought and emotion that resulted from it.

The Chronicle of Brute was first published in 1480.
The second edition of Holinshed appeared in 1586.

1 Morley's English Writers, VI, 263 f.

INTRODUCTION xlvii

Between these two dates, there were printed more
than forty works, principally in English, bearing
directly upon English history. Many of these, like
Fabyan, Grafton, Stowe's Summary, underwent
several editions. It is of course a question how far
such compilations as Capgrave's Nova Legenda
Anglice were looked upon as historical. I have
included the Nova Legenda in the number given
above, but have omitted Malory and the romances
generally. l Yet it cannot be doubted that even these
helped to make sixteenth-century Englishmen con-
scious of the great body of history and legend that
was their inheritance, whether or not history and
legend were properly differentiated by them.2

It is the chronicles themselves that are at this
moment of special interest. One chronicler, Polydore
Vergil, had a position that was at least semi-official,
for he had been expressly invited by Henry VII to
write the history of England, and all the national
and local records were to be thrown open to him.
He wrote, to be sure, in Latin, but his work had a
significance quite independent of its language. A
great stage in the historical writing of a nation has

1 1 have omitted the romances because educated Englishmen did
not consider them historical, though they must have passed current
among a good many readers, and so have to be taken into account
in a measure. See Ascham, Toxophilus, ed. Arber, p. 19, School-
master, p. 80. Meres' enumeration and reprobation of romances,
Palladis Tamia, Arber's Garner, II, 106, may be referred to. The
romances were frequently dramatized.

2 Cf . Schofield, English Literature from the Norman Conquest to
Chaucer, 1906, 158. And Whitlock, Zootomia, 1654, 215, speaks
scornfully of those men ' ' of easie soules, with whom Romants are
Chronicle."

xlviii EDWARD II

been completed when its government commands
that its annals be compiled and given to the public.
May it not be said to mark the recognition of history
as a social and intellectual agency capable of
producing definite results, and worthy of being
utilized by a government in the attempt to rally the
national forces and cultivate a national attitude ? l

Common to the chronicles, at least to those written
in English and hence appealing to a wide circle of
readers, were the point of view and the spirit of
their composition — a point of view of intense
patriotism, a spirit of heroical celebration. Both
find perhaps their completest expression in the
accounts of the life and deeds of Henry V, who was
not merely an English king, but held the higher rank
of a national hero. It was his reign that was looked
back to as that under which England had been at
her best and greatest. The superb characterization
of Henry in Hall's chronicle and the soul-animating
strains of Shakespeare's play find alike their direct
inspiration in the belief that in Henry V was the
national ideal at once realized and for ever fixed.

Dissociated then from political storm and religious
stress, there was at work upon the minds of English-
men an influence that made for peace and unity.
The past had become a ground upon which all
Englishmen might take their stand, not as partisans,
but as patriots, as common inheritors of a national
spirit. The history of England had been glorified in y

1 Henry's immediate object was of course to cultivate Lan-
castrian sympathies.

INTRODUCTION xlix

prose, and it was inevitable that the drama should"^
seize with enthusiasm its ample opportunity. J

Effective in the same way was the sentiment of
personal devotion to Elizabeth. John Stubbes did
not in many things represent the point of view of
the people at large ; but at one moment in his
otherwise harsh and narrow life he rose above himself
and gave memorable utterance to a national emotion.
Posterity has not forgotten that the instant his right
hand was struck off by the public executioner, with
his left he swung his cap and shouted, " God save the
Queen." Indeed, beneath the absurd flatteries of
which Elizabeth was the object we may read clear a
deep and genuine feeling that formed not the least
important element in the life of the people. Nor can
the essential justness of the popular instinct be
impugned. It was her policy that brought order out
of disorder, her hand that disthroned chaos and old
night. She rendered possible the exultant descrip-
tion of England that Shakespeare puts into the
mouth of John of Gaunt. With her life were
identified the Protestant religion and the national
independence, and when the execution of Mary put
practically an end to the conspiracies against
Elizabeth's person, all England breathed a sigh of
relief, for all England realized that her own struggle
for existence would be the easier thenceforward.

The unifying influence exercised by the wise rule
of Elizabeth and by this sentiment of personal
devotion to her extended to a class that could not
be directly reached by historical study or by the

1 EDWARD II

chronicles, namely, to those that could not read.
They were not less patriotic than their superiors, but
their knowledge of history was of necessity derived
mainly from tradition, from what of historic truth
had been able to survive in ballad and legend.
Chappell tells us that " from very early times down
to the end of the seventeenth century, the common
people knew history chiefly from ballads. Aubrey
mentions that his nurse could repeat the history of
England, from the conquest down to the time of
Charles I, in ballads."1 These productions are not
all to be regarded as 'edit volksmassig/ By the
term ' ballad ' is in this instance comprised, in
addition to true folk-poetry, all that popular verse
that is engendered in cities and may with safety be
denied a ' communal ' origin, broadsides, satirical
songs, and all such metrical flotsam and jetsam as
has to do with political or historical events. Many
of these productions were founded on the chronicles,
and indeed in verse of a more strictly popular
character we meet occasionally with epic formulae,
by the use of which the writer shifted the responsi-
bility from his own shoulders to those of another.2
The spirit of these metrical effusions was in an
exaggerated degree the spirit of the chronicles.
They at once stimulated the people's curiosity,

1 Percy Soc. edition of Crown Garland, Publications, VI, 1842'
pp. vii, viii.

* Cf. Battle of Otterbourne, 35 (2), Child, No. 161. Rose of England,
17 (2), 22 (4), Child, No. 1 66. Flodden Field (Appendix), 121 (4),
Child, No. 168. Note also the title of the B.M. copy of No. 154, and
compare the introductions to Nos. 163 and 164.

,

INTRODUCTION li

appealed to their patriotism and insular pride, and
reinforced the appeal by the celebration of particular
deeds and exploits.

In short, such was the interest in English history
aroused as the result of the various social and
political agencies whose operation I have attempted
in slight measure to indicate, that the London
audiences drew eagerly upon whatever sources of
information were open to them. Much of the popu-
larity enjoyed by the chronicle history was due to
the fact that it answered this demand. We are
accustomed to speak of the educational influence
exercised by this dramatic species, but after all we
hardly realize its extent ; we hardly realize the
fondness of the Elizabethan for details that to us
are comparatively unimportant, or at any rate are
foreign to the purpose the dramatist should entertain.
If we examine, for instance, the old True Tragedy of
Richard III, we shall find that several scenes consist
merely of brief summaries of large parts of the action
which the dramatist was unable to present on the
stage, but which he apparently felt should not be
omitted. Richard's page is often used for this pur-
pose, but other characters also serve. We can find
many passages illustrative of this didactic function
of the chronicle play in dramas more advanced than
this one.1

1 Edward III. (ed. Moore Smith, 1897), I, i, 11. 1-40 :

K. Ed. Robert of Artois, banish'd though thou be
From France, thy native country, yet with us
Thou shalt retain as great a signiory ;
For we create thee Earl of Richmond here.

lii EDWARD II

Many of these passages are essentially undramatic
in character and do little more than supply historical
information. In some cases this information is neces-
sary to an understanding of the situation, but in
others it is not. The people liked that sort of thing,
and were desirous of hearing how many were killed
in the battle and who were the leaders on either side,
what events preceded and what succeeded a certain
campaign, and so on. The notion of the selection
of material for a dramatic as clearly distinct from a
narrative purpose, the difference between a plot and

And now go forward with our pedigree ;

Who next succeeded Philip Le Beau ?

Art. Three sons of his ; which all, successively,

Did sit upon their father's regal throne,

Yet died and left no issue of their loins.

K. Ed. But was my mother sister unto those ?
Art. She was, my lord ; and only Isabel

Was all the daughters that this Philip had :

Whom afterward your father took to wife ;

And, from the fragrant garden of her womb,

Your gracious self, the flower of Europe's hope,

Derived is inheritor to France.

But note the rancour of rebellious minds.

When thus the lineage of Le Beau was out,

The French obscur'd your mother's privilege ;

And, though she were the next of blood, proclaim'd

John, of the house of Valois, now their king :

The reason was, they say, the realm of France,

Replete with princes of great parentage,

Ought not admit a governor to rule

Except he be descended of the male ;

And that's the special ground of their contempt

Wherewith they study to exclude your grace, etc.
A long list of similar passages might be given. As regards
Shakespeare, see Henry V, I, ii, 11. 32-95 ; IV, viii, 80-110. Other
passages occur in the Henry VI plays. A good illustration is one
found in the anonymous Richard II (see p. cxi, note 3), p. 61 ;
and there are some very curious instances in the second part of
Hey wood's If you know not me, you know Nobody.

INTRODUCTION liii

a mere series of episodes, had not as yet become
apparent. Like children, they asked, What did he
do ? What did he say ? What did the other man
do then ? If we bear in mind that the Elizabethans
were now for the first time listening to such stories
scenically presented, and that they were interested
in them as are children in the earliest tales that
reach their ears, we shall have the key to much in
the drama of the period that might otherwise fail of
proper interpretation.1

That the chronicle play had this specifically didactic
function, particularly with reference to the illiterate
class, was recognized by contemporary writers.
Nashe has been quoted in another part of this study.2
Heywood, in a passage worth giving at length,
makes the educational value of the historical play an
argument in his defence of the stage, while, as will be
later seen, the Puritans attacked the stage partly
because it abused the confidence of its auditors.
Heywood says : " Playes have made the ignorant
more apprehensive, taught the unlearned the know-
ledge of many famous histories, instructed such as
cannot reade in the discovery of all our English
chronicles ; and what man have you now of that
weake capacity that cannot discourse of any notable
thing recorded even from William the Conquerour,
nay, from the landing of Brute, untill this day ?

1 It is interesting to compare with the passages cited in the pre-
vious note, which have no dramatic colouring, other passages which
likewise supply information, but are distinctly dramatic. For
instance, 3 Henry VI, I, i, 104 ff., Richard II, I, iv, 42 ff.

2 See p. xv.

EDWARD II

beeing possest of their true use, for or because
playes are writ with this ayme, and carryed with
this methode, to teach their subjects obedience to
their king, to shew the people the untimely ends of
such as have moved tumults, commotions, and
insurrections, to present them with the flourishing
estate of such as live in obedience, exhorting them
to allegeance, dehorting them from all trayterous
and fellonious stratagems/'1

Two other ' testimonies ' may be quoted. One
is from the Iter Boreale : 2

Mine host was full of ale and history ;

Why, he could tell

The inch where Richmond stood, where Richard fell :
Besides what of his knowledge he could say,
He had authenticke notice from the Play ;
Which I might guesse, by's mustring up the ghosts,
And policy es, not incident to hosts ;
But cheifly by that one perspicuous thing,
Where he mistook a player for a king.
For when he would have sayd, King Richard dyed,
And call'd — A horse ! a horse ! he, Burbidge cry'de.

The other is from Act II, Scene i, of The Devil is an
Ass :

Meer. That you say right in. Spenser, I think the younger,
Had his last honour thence. But he was but earl.

Fitz. I know not that, sir. But Thomas of Woodstock,
I'm sure was duke, and he was made away
At Calice, as Duke Humphrey was at Bury :
And Richard the Third, you know what end he came to.

Meer. By my faith, you are cunning in the chronicle, sir.

Fitz. No, I confess I have it from the playbooks,
And think they are more authentic.

Eng. That is sure, sir.

1 Apology, p. 52.

2 Poems of Bishop Corbet, ed. Gilchrist, 1807, 193.

INTRODUCTION Iv

In other words, the dramatist catered to the desire
of the people for historical information, and in
return the uneducated accepted him as an historical
authority. 1

The dramatic form earlier developed permitted
the presentation of historical material in a way to
gratify this keen and lively interest.

This form possessed as the result of its structure
the characteristics of indefinite expansibility and
epic quality. For these reasons it was especially
well-suited to answer the demands of an Elizabethan
audience, since the interest of such an audience
was not fundamentally critical, but simply an
interest of curiosity. It cared not so much to know
what was the logic of events as it did to see the events
themselves staged, and the question that it asked
was not why, but rather what ?

No drama of the classical or pseudo-classical type
could have answered this question satisfactorily.

1 ' To be in a play ' had apparently something of the authority
for that generation that ' to be in print ' has for the uneducated now.
Cf. Chambers, Medieval Stage, II, 358 : " The C. Mery Tales (1526)
has a story of a preacher, who wound up a sermon on the Creed with
' Yf you beleve not me then for a more suerte & sufiycyent auctoryte
go your way to Coventre and there ye shall se them all playd in
Corpus Christi playe.' *'' And see Gayley, Plays of our Forefathers,
112-13 : " One cannot read the Canterbury Tales without suspecting
that the familiarity displayed by the simpler characters with scrip-
tural event and legend is supposed to be derived from plays rather
than directly from the services of the church."

With what Hey wood says it is interesting to compare Gosson's
remarks on the value of the play of Ptolome, School, p. 40. There
was once a tradition that Shakespeare composed his chronicle plays
for the purpose of instructing the people in history. See Halliwell,
The First Sketches of the Second and Third Parts of King Henry VI,
Old Shakespeare Society Publ., 1843, xxxv.

Ivi EDWARD II

Comparatively speaking, the plot of such a play is
simple, the incidents presented are few and not
perhaps as a rule sensational or even exciting.
Much is done off the stage, away from the eyes of
the onlookers, and thus the spectacular value of
the play is lessened.1 The artificially restricted
field renders impossible the survey of a period, and
the form is one well adapted to the portrayal of a
character, but not so well to the telling of a story.
The Elizabethan, however, was not primarily inter-
ested in the portrayal of character, except possibly
in satiric comedy. Interesting incident was what
he mainly wanted, and no dramatic form unsuited
to the development of a series of episodes would have
found favour in his eyes. The crowded Elizabethan
plot had its roots in the tastes and preferences of
the Elizabethan audience.

In other words, a more highly developed dramatic
form would have been too restricted in scope for this

1 Here might be emphasized a point merely suggested above,
namely, the distinctly theatrical interest of the chronicle history.
The spectacular element is strongly brought out in it, armies, em-
bassies, coronations, processions, battles (cf. the prologue to Every
Man in His Humour) ; the figures in them are distinctly theatrical
figures, kings, queens, and so on. See Gosson (above, p. xxxviii),
who says that the poets in histories are fond of penning declamatory
speeches and of bringing in a " show to furnish the stage when it is
too bare." The historical play in general is full of tableaux. Tambur-
laine's chariot drawn by kings, the army of Amazons in Alphonsus
(having perhaps the interest of a modern ballet), the- brazen head
and descent of Venus (cf. again the prologue above mentioned) in
the same play, the riots in Sir Thomas More, the dumbshows in
Gorboduc, are cases in point. A close union of the chronicle play and
the masque is to be seen in Henry VIII. That this characteristic
of the chronicle history contributed in no small measure to its popu-
larity is a fact that might well have been urged. See n. 4, p. Ixxxviii.

INTRODUCTION Ivii

early period. What the spectator wanted was
something at once more formless and more inclusive.
He was for the first time listening to stories drama-
tically told. He desired not so much a drama in our
modern sense of the word, as an epic staged and
acted out before him, and in answer to this demand
the chronicle history came into existence. It was
informed with the epic spirit, which regards Dido
merely as a milestone in the course of ^Eneas's
existence. The Trojan hero is not affected as to
character or subsequent adventures by his encounter
with the Queen of Carthage. His deeds on the
Lavinian shore are what they would have been had he
never seen her, and the ^Eneas that gives Turnus
the fatal blow is in nothing changed from the
^Eneas that bore Anchises safely through the flaming
city. Freytag's statement, " Schilderung fesselnder
Begebenheiten ist Aufgabe des Epos/'1 is no less
true of the chronicle history, the purpose of which
is objective rather than subjective, the representation
rather of what takes place in a man's environment
than of his mental or spiritual growth, or from
another point of view, the narration of a series of
events instead of the development of a plot. Thence
sprang its epic spirit, and in that lay in no small
measure the secret of its popularity.

The chronicle history, then, must be marked off
from those plays that are dramatic in a higher and
more sophisticated sense. "Dramatisch . . . [sind]
das Werden einer That und ihre Folgen auf das

1 Technik des Dramas (1898), p. 18.

Iviii EDWARD II

Gemiith."1 This reaction of events upon character
is not emphasized in this branch of the Elizabethan
drama, is indeed, on comparison with other species
of that drama, conspicuously absent. In comedy,
for instance, your prodigal repents and is received
back into the good graces of his family or mistress
after he has run his course. The reformation is
often, nay usually, accomplished violently and in
an unnatural manner, and we have no great faith in
its lastingness. Yet it does represent on the part of
the dramatist a certain realization of the fact that
a man cannot go through a series of important events
and come out unaltered in character.2 In the
chronicle histories generally this relation of character
to. environment received little attention. Even
Shakespeare in his earlier plays does not bring
it out, and we can hardly find character-progression
in Richard III or King John. Either of these
monarchs would have lived his life over, had it been
possible, in much the same way. He would have
corrected certain mistakes in policy, doubtless, but
he would have had the same ends in view, and have
been actuated by the same motives. In the chronicle
history it is the event that is supreme, the fact.3

1 Technik des Dramas (1898), p. 18.

2 We do not object to the conversions of these prodigals that
they are sudden (cf. James, Varieties of Religious Experience, 1902,
pp. 175-9), but that they are not adequately represented. The
failure was not in the conception, but in the lack of vividness in
dramatizing it, in the absence of sufficient cause as actually accom-
plished. Lisideius in Dryden's Essay of Dramatic Poesy emphasizes
the superiority of the French plays in regard to this point.

3 For relations of the national play to contemporary narrative
poetry dealing with the same subject-matter, see Fleay, Biog.

INTRODUCTION lix

V

None will expect to find in so brief a study as
this a discussion of every play that might conceivably
be called a chronicle history. Those plays which
contain a small amount of historical material
employed chiefly to give a local habitation and a
name to figures that belong properly in other
dramatic fields, like Greene's Friar Bacon, may well
be neglected by us, as may also those that use such
material merely as padding, like Dekker's Satiro-
masti%, or in which it serves as a vehicle for satire
upon features of Elizabethan life.1 We shall be
principally interested in plays wherein the drama-
tization of history as such was the main aim of the
author and the main concern of the audience, though
we must at the same time avoid distinctions of too
rigid and arbitrary a kind.2

Chron., I, 141-2, and Elton, Michal Drayton, 1905 (revision of
Spenser Society Publications, n.s. No. 4), pp. 39 if. ; Schelling,
Chronicle Play, 39.

1 A Merry Knack to Know a Knave, 1592. Much of the text con-
nects it with the pamphleteering war against cozeners waged by
Greene and his associates. It contains a semi-allegorical figure
named Honesty, whose business is to discover and bring to justice
cheaters of all descriptions (anticipating Middleton's Phoenix}. This
part of the play, which is an expansion of certain hints afforded
by the chronicles, and which contains a plagiarism from Faustus
(Hazlitt's Dodsley, VI, 520), is loosely interwoven with a plot ap-
parently taken from Holinshed (ed. 1808, I, 644 f.), and Kemp's
Merriments of the Men of Gotham is avowedly utilized. Euphuism is
satirized, pp. 523, 556. Such a hodge-podge illustrates the base
uses to which chronicle material came and the readiness with which
the chronicle history passed over into other types of drama, but is
hardly otherwise of interest.

2 The best general account of the miscellaneous subject-matter
of those plays that concerned themselves with English life of the
past, and hence stand in more or less close relation to our subject, is
in Creizenach, Geschichte des Neueren Dramas, IV, 193-215.

Ix EDWARD II

For this last reason it does not seem easy to accept
the two classes suggested by Professor Schelling.1
" The one includes those plays which deal with
history and the biographies of actual historical
persons ; the other those in which the subjects are
legendary or at least such as involve a more or less
conscious departure from historical fact. Marlowe's
Edward II and Shakespeare's Henry V may be
taken as illustrations of the tragic and non-tragic
types of the first class. Shakespeare's King Lear
and Greene's Scottish History of James IV as typical
examples similarly contrasted of the second." Yet
any dramatization of historical material necessitates
conscious departure from historical fact in some
degree, for without it no such material can be staged.
Moreover, the distinction drawn between legendary
and historical material is obliterated by Professor
Schelling himself later2 in saying : " To dramatists
as to chroniclers the legends concerning Brute,
Cymbeline or King Arthur were not distinguishable
in their credibility from the received records of the
doings of Harry Monmouth, Richard Crookback or
bluff King Henry. They accepted whatever they
found and used it as they found it." Both matters
are worth considering somewhat more in detail.

The great body of English history as narrated, for
instance, in Holinshed divides itself from the modern
point of view into two distinct portions. First, there
is the mass of fiction, possibly containing a certain
amount of Welsh tradition, that had its rise in the

1 Chronicle Play, p. 30. 2 Ibid., p. 50.

INTRODUCTION Ixi

fertile mind of Geoffrey of Monmouth. This covered
the period between the Trojan War and the Roman
conquest of Britain, and dealt also with Welsh
affairs after that date. Second, there is English
history proper, beginning roughly with the Roman
conquest. Geoffrey had met with one or two severe
critics in his own day, but his narrative held the
field against them and was generally accepted and
believed in for centuries. Gradually, however,
scepticism became more active, and by 1550 a lively
dispute was on foot among antiquaries and historians.
Stow defends Geoffrey in the preface to his chronicle,
Holinshed and Grafton followed him without ques-
tion. Leland and Dray ton believed in him, as did
the learned Doctor White of Basingstoke.1 In 1593
Richard Harvey published Philadelphm ; or, A
Defence of Brutus, and the Brutans History. On the
other hand, Selden2 is sceptical, and Samuel Daniel
refuses in his history to touch the pre-Roman period.
Jonson accepts Geoffrey for poetical purposes.3
Camden4 surveys the controversy, allows everyone
to believe as he likes, but himself gives up Geoffrey
with great reluctance. Edmund Bolton5 shows
clearly that he would like much to believe in

Polyolbion, I, 312 ff., and Selden's note on the passage.

Ibid, and see England's Epinomis, chap. i.

Note to Part of the King's Entertainment.

Britannia, translation of 1695, c°ls- vl- ff-

Hypercritica (1618 ?), Spingarn's Seventeenth Century Critical
Essays, I. See Addresse the First, especially sect. vi. In addition,see
Hakewill's Apologie, 1635, 3rd ed., 9 ; Waller, Vindication, pr. 1793,
277 ff., who believes there is much truth in Geoffrey. These refer-
ences illustrate, but by no means exhaust, the history of the contro-
versy.

Ixii EDWARD II

Geoffrey, does believe as much as he possibly can,
and after discussing the relative numbers of the two
parties, says : "So that if the cause were to be try'd
or carry'd by Voices, the affirmative would have the
fuller Cry."

If such was the state of the case among men of more
or less learning, it is clearly hazardous to make
statements of too definite a character about drama-
tists as a group. Of the spectators one may safely
assert that most of them, especially the less well
educated, unhesitatingly accepted plays based on
legendary material as historical in character. On
the other hand, we may say with equal safety,
judging by comparative numbers, that plays based
on the period after the Norman Conquest were much
more popular and aroused a far keener interest.1
With relation to the dramatists, the problem is much
more perplexing. We should not draw too rigid an
inference from the fact that legendary plays contain
a far larger proportionate amount of unhistorical
matter than do others, for the chronicles dealing with
that portion of English history were all based
ultimately on Geoffrey, and he does not give as a rule
more than a brief outline of the various reigns. In
dramatizing a story taken from him, the playwright
had himself to furnish a far larger amount of
supplementary detail drawn from his own imagina-
tion or from other sources, than in the case of a plot
dealing with, for example, Edward III, for which
an abundance of incident and episode was ready to

1 Cf. below, p. cxxi.

INTRODUCTION Ixiii

hand. If dramatists usually followed Geoffrey as
faithfully, considering the material he supplied, as
they did the chronicles of later times, that might
easily be due to the fact that Geoffrey usually
provided a good plot which there was small reason
to change. Geoffrey was a born story-teller. At
the same time, Shakespeare had no hesitation in
making Lear end tragically instead of happily, as in
the older version. He would never have dreamed of
tampering in such a way with the fate of Richard III
or of John. There were always floating rumours
that Edward II and Richard II had escaped from
prison and lived quietly in foreign lands, but no
dramatist, so far as I know, ever attempted to
utilize them. When Ford in his Per kin War beck
made use of similar rumours about the sons of
Edward IV, he could do so on the ground that these
rumours had in the first place the very best of
chronicle standing, and that in the second the
career of Perkin Warbeck was an important historical
fact which there was no gainsaying, whatever one's
belief as to the validity of his claims.

Without making a distinction between legendary
and authentic material, we may admit that the
earlier portion of English history was in certain
respects more freely handled. The plays that were
brushed aside in so cavalier a fashion a page or two
back as being not concerned primarily with the
presentation of serious history, were somewhat more
likely to employ the remoter periods as background
or as padding. Satiromastix deals with the reign of

Ixiv EDWARD II

William Rufus, Fair Em with that of the Conqueror ;
A Merry Knack goes back to Dunstan, Nobody and
Somebody to Elidure. Again, whenever the reader
feels that the historical material in a given play is
looked on by the author as merely so much romantic
subject-matter, of which the nationality matters
nothing, that material will come in all probability
from an early period, as in Fletcher's Bonduca or
Middleton's Mayor of Quinborough. Once more, the
legendary or early plays rarely catch the note of
fervent patriotism that is characteristic of those
employing later history,1 and the sense of kinship
with Saxon and Briton was evidently weak on the
part of both dramatist and spectator. Briefly, then,
the Elizabethans appear to have felt, if not to have
explicitly recognized, some difference between early
and later material, though we should have much
difficulty in stating in definite terms just what that
difference was or just how free a course the manipula-
tion of subject-matter must take to justify us in
saying that any given dramatist was no longer
restrained by considerations of history. At least, any
such definite statement would be subject to so many
qualifications that it would have little value.

The question just resolved in so unsatisfactory a
fashion is, however, itself but a phase of a larger
question, that of how faithfully the. chronicle
dramatist felt bound to adhere to his sources ;
what did he think to be the duty resting on his

1 It is occasionally heard in Locrine and elsewhere, but only
sporadically.

INTRODUCTION Ixv

shoulders in view of the particular kind of material
he utilized ? It is, for example, very suggestive
that in the epilogue to The Warning for Fair
Women,1 Tragedy, in emphasizing the authen-
ticity of the plot, seems to do so somewhat to the
prejudice of History, and asks the audience to
excuse the dramatist if his minute adherence to
actual fact has caused his play to be ineffective ;
next day History may provide them with a play more
to their taste. At least such is the natural interpre-
tation of Tragedy's words, and it is borne out by
the Induction. Probably the passage is not in-
tended as a serious criticism of historical plays, but
it certainly allows us to infer that writers of such
plays were understood occasionally to manipulate
their material with a view to making it interesting.
Naturally, to make his plays interesting was the
first concern of the chronicle dramatist, as of other
Elizabethan playwrights, and when we realize how
numerous and varied were the dramatic fads and

iff*

fancies of Elizabethan days, we shall comprehend
a little more clearly how many temptations beset
the writer, and shall be the less surprised if his
virtue proved often frail enough. The Elizabethan
audience liked, for example, rant, bombast, and
Senecan declamation ; it liked plenty of bloodshed
and plenty of farce and foolery ; it liked romance
and disguisings and satire and pictures of con-
temporary manners ; it liked spectacular effects,
too, and a swiftly moving plot and quick repartee

1 Above, page xi, note.

Ixvi EDWARD II

and ghosts ; it liked almost everything except
being bored. And it had not the slightest objection
to the exhibition of all of these attractive features
in the same play, if only the author were suffi-
ciently ingenious and versatile to associate them all.
Gt may be said, then, that the historical dramatist
/as allowed much freedom, and that he often took
a greater freedom than many of his hearers realized.
We may consider the matter from several points of
view, without, however, pretending that these are
mutually exclusive or that they exhaust the subject.
fTt has already been observed that the mere
staging of the material involved some alteration of
it. For, in the first place, if only a brief outline was
given, as by Geoffrey, it would have to be filled out
with supplementary details and episodes.1 In the
second, if the chronicle supplied an abundance of
incident, the playwright would have to select, and
according to his principle of selection, if he had any
such, as may frequently be doubted, his play would
have a certain character^ One writer might empha-
size the military side of a reign, another that of
civil or religious dissension. Yet another, if he took
plenty of space and had some skill in condensing
and interweaving, like Heywood, might make a
more or less representative selection covering

1 Compare what Higgins says in the preface to 1574 edition of
The Mirror for Magistrates : " I was often fayne to use mine owne
simple invention, yet not swarving from the matter : because the
chronicles (although they went out under divers men's names) in
some suche places as I moste needed theyr ayde, wrate one thing,
and that so brieflye, that a whole prince's raigne, life, and death,
was comprysed in three lines." (Haslewood, I, 8.)

INTRODUCTION Ixvii

various aspects of a period. HLn general, whatever
the material selected, conversations would have to
be invented, motives imputed, minor figures intro-
duced, characters developed, and the like. We need
not dwell upon the poinfT"*]

Every Elizabethan dramatist was at liberty to
insert comicegisodes, either in the form of detached
scenes or in that of a genuine subplot. The chronicle
dramatist usually did so, though not invariably.
Sometimes the chronicle would afford a piece of
material that could easily be worked up in a comic
vein, as in the case of popular revolts like that of
Cade or of the hints as to the riotous youth of Henry
V; but usually the comic parts came in on the writer's
own responsibility, being either devised by himself
or taken from tradition or some other source. If
tradition was utilized, as in the Tanner of Tarn-
worth scenes in Edward IV, the author might feel
that he was using historical material, if only of a
kind, but it is difficult to believe that anyone was
imposed on by the humorous parts of Locrine.
In any case, a certain licence of this kind was
undoubtedly accorded the poet, and, except when
he went altogether too far, we should not conclude
that in making use of it he was without his rights
as an historical dramatist.

Frequently non-historical matter was added with
a design to reinforce the appeal of the material
supplied by the chronicle, and in many cases it was
the added portions in which the author and probably
the audience were mainly interested. The fondness

Ixviii EDWARD II

of the Elizabethans for plots containing disguisings
is deferred to in Look About You, in which the reign
of Henry II is made to furnish more or less plausible
excuses /for a baker's dozen of disguises assumed
by five different characters at various times. In
'friar Bacon and Friar Bungay and John a Kent and
John a Cumber wizardry and magic are given an
historical setting. The Honorable Life of the Humor-
ous Earl of Gloster, with his Conquest of Portugal,
is not extant, but the title suggests, as the play
was written 1600-1, that the current fad of
' humours ' was pressed into service. In such
plays, as well as in others, the chronicle drama
showed itself in close alliance with pure comedy,
and history went for little save to provide the
writer with a point of departure or to lend to his
figures and incidents a certain factitious interest.
The same statement is to be made of plays in which,
by means of a few bits of historical fact, material
belonging to the no-man's land of romance is
localized in England. Once upon a time there was a
James IV of Scotland ; he did marry the King of
England's daughter ; he was inconstant ; and in
his reign there was a war between Scotland
and England ; but Greene's James IV, A
Scottish History, contains practically nothing else
that is historical in any sense of the word.1
Heywood's Royal King and Loyal Subject does
not go so far as to tell us what king of England
it was that put his marshal to so much dis-

1 The source, as has long been known, was an Italian novella.

INTRODUCTION Ixix

tress. 1 Fair Em is not merely a worthless play, but it
becomes highly ridiculous when we compare its love-
lorn hero voyaging to Denmark in disguise with the
real William the Conqueror. Day and Chettle's
Blind Beggar of Bednal Green contains more serious
history, but still the romantic element is supreme,
and, as Ward notes,2 history is daringly amended
by the authors. It is an easy step from such plays
to those that utilize traditional lore of a more or
less romantic, and, as has been noticed, often of a
semi-historical or pseudo-historical character, in
which it is not always easy to determine the
dramatist's degree of faith.3 I suppose all Eliza-
bethans believed to some extent in Robin Hood,
and perhaps the currency gained by the spurious
legend that identified him with a thirteenth-century
earl of Huntington, the attempt, as it were, to
euhemerize the old story, illustrates their fondness
for him. In employing Robin Hood ballads,
dramatists did not always show keen critical insight.
Munday, in The Downfall and Death of Robert Earl
of Huntington, used those of a better class, but Peele
in Edward I was not at all careful in his choice.4

1 In the opening lines we are told that the king has just returned
from fighting in the Holy Land, so that Heywood must have had
Richard I or Edward I in mind.

2 History of English Dramatic Literature, II, 600.

3 Some of the plays already mentioned utilized ballad material
of one kind or another.

4 It was in this play that Peele perpetrated the gross libel on
Elinor of Castile already referred to, apparently on the basis of a
miserable broadside composed by one of the ballad-mongers Nashe
so savagely handles in The Anatomy of Absurdity. Other ballad
material is employed at the end of the play.

Ixx EDWARD II

Even when a poet takes his subject-matter with
becoming seriousness, we cannot find that he
considered himself tied to accuracy in all respects.
The True Tragedy of Richard III is full of historical
details, yet, as Churchill remarks,1 the author is
" exceedingly careless in the use of his authorities/'
and it seems clear that he often preferred to trust
his memory rather than refer back to Hall or to his
other sources. The figure of the Bastard Falcon-
bridge in The Troublesome Raigne is practically a
pure invention of the playwright. One can assign
no reason why the author of Jack Straw chose to
represent Straw instead of Wat Tyler as slain at
Smithfield, and a close study of many a chronicle
history in connection with its source will reveal
numbers of inaccuracies that are due to careless-
ness or negligence. On the other hand, we can
frequently see just why alterations were made. It
is very clear why in Edward IV Jane Shore came
to a tragic end instead of lingering out her life in
obscure poverty and dying many long years after
her royal lover, as was actually her fate. In
Edward III the deviations from history of which
complaint has been made2 have mostly very simple
explanations. The reign of King John of France
is begun years before the real date because the
author thought it more effective to oppose a single
adversary to the great personality of Edward. The
king of Scotland is taken over to France because

1 Richard the Third, etc., 405.

1 See the edition by G. C. Moore Smith, 1897, ix.

INTRODUCTION Ixxi

of the desire to present in one stage picture two
great kings captive to the king of England.1 The
battles of Sluys, Cressy, and Poitiers follow hard
upon one another, both because of the desire for
npid action and cumulative stage effect, and because
historical drama is wellnigh impossible unless such
condensations of chronology are permitted, what-
ever be the dramatic form adopted, romantic,
classical, or pseudo-classical. At any rate, they
were universally practised in the Elizabethan
period.2 Sir John Oldcastle was a play designed
to rehabilitate the reputation of a fifteenth-century
Loflard, a Tendenz-play, in short, and the material
is handled with a view to that end, as when
Oldcastle is represented as revealing to Henry the
conspiracy of Gray and Scroope, despite the fact
that either he had nothing to do with that con-
spiracy or else, as Holinshed hints, was privy to it.3
\ln the interpretation of character the chronicle
dramatist was far less likely to introduce change,
for various reasons. Many a writer did not possess
sufficient imaginative power, or was perhaps too
indolent, to do more than clothe in reasonably

1 Cf. Henry V, I, 2, 159 ff.

She [England] hath herself not only well defended
But taken and impounded as a stray
The King of Scots ; whom she did send to France,
To fill King Edward's fame with prisoner kings
And make her chronicle as rich with praise, etc.
Shakespeare knew clearly what the author of Edward III was about.
! In Sejanus, for instance, Jonson, most scrupulous of historical
dramatists, combines three sessions of the senate, held in different
years, into one.

3 See Malone, Ancient British Drama, I, 318, note I.

Ixxii EDWARD II

appropriate words the conception supplied by his
source. Moreover, the chronicles were on the
whole considered as authoritative historical records,
and few would dream of there being any injustice
or incompetence in the general verdict they would
pass upon a king's reign or his character?] Yet
these were by no means the chief reasons for
dramatic conservatism. As far as the kings, aM
for that matter a good many other important
historical figures, were concerned, their characters
had often become fixed in popular legend as wel] as
in the chronicles. Tradition had been busy \\ith
them, and in many cases, perhaps, the chronicle
verdict was but a cautious version of the popular
belief.1 Had any Elizabethan playwright attempted
to whitewash Richard III, his play would have hid
short shrift. The jolly bonhomie of Edward IV
was a cherished national possession. Henry V was
a national ideal. Time-honoured Lancaster and
the good Duke Humphrey, the innocent Arthur,
Robin Hood — in all of these the dramatist's work
had been largely done for him years before he
thought of setting pen to paper. Almost every
English king, for example, was expected to display
on occasion a willingness to hob-nob with the first
comer.2 Furthermore, Elizabethan plays had to
be licensed before performance, and if the govern-
ment in some respects allowed the stage pretty

1 This is probable on general grounds, and is in particular cases
shown by the important studies recently made of the growth of the
legends attaching to various historical figures.

2 Cf. Peele's Edward I, Scene i, 249-50.

INTRODUCTION Ixxiii

free rein, the stage was in others held strictly within
bounds. It was all very well that there should
flourish a lively drama depicting in vivid scenes
the traditional and generally accepted view of the
nation's past. That made for peace and gave the
rascals something to think about. But the Eliza-
bethan government knew apparently better than
we do that the stage could set people to thinking,
and it would hardly have permitted a revolutionary
interpretation of the character of Henry VIII, for
example. Shakespeare's English kings are the
traditional English kings, and what he did was not
to create new conceptions, but to take old con-
ceptions and in some magical way blow the breath
of life into them. He refined their psychology
without altering the main features of their character ;
he ennobled their lineaments and yet a child could
recognize them.1

We find, then, that we must be cautious in
making generalizations about the attitude of the
chronicle history writer towards his material and
the licence permitted him by his public. We are
justified in believing that the chronicle history
audiences suspected and perhaps did not alto-
gether approve too free a treatment of the subject-
matter they loved, since many plays emphasize in
some form or another the authenticity of their
contents. It may be said that the authors even of

1 Naturally there were hundreds of figures that the dramatist
could do what he liked with, and Cobham could appear indifferently
as the Oldcastle of the Famous Victories or as the Oldcastle of Sir
John Oldcastle, tradition being in each case the dramatist's guide.

Ixxiv EDWARD II

these plays often departed from strict historical
truth and often employed legend and untrust-
worthy tradition. We must realize, however, that
the ' science ' of history was then in its swaddling-
clothes, that the sound critical interpretation of
historical documents was almost impossible, that
the necessity for distinguishing between docu-
mentary and traditional history was not well
understood, and that in the case of biographical
plays the dramatist could sometimes find little
usable material outside of tradition and scattered
anecdote. Much that the veriest sciolist would
unhesitatingly throw aside to-day was then gener-
ally accepted, and it would be absurd to judge the
dramatization of history in Elizabeth's day by
anything approaching modern critical standards.
There are a good many plays whose authors appar-
ently desired to present their material seriously,
though they did not consider that a serious
presentation forbade them to make changes in
minor matters, and though they sometimes handled
their authorities carelessly. We must remember
also that Elizabethan dramas were written usually
with great rapidity, since the public demanded a
constant succession of new plays, and that it would
often be impossible for a playwright to devote much
care and time to ensuring accuracy in detail ;
further, that he could rely to some extent on the
ignorance of his audience,1 that he expected his

1 A large part of his audience could not read ; of those that
could, few would think of comparing the play with the chronicle.

INTRODUCTION Ixxv

play to be discarded after being given six or eight
times, if as often, that nobody considered it to
be a serious literary performance, that it was not
likely to be printed and so undergo the test of being
read.1 If under such conditions of composition and
presentation history was no worse handled than we
find it to be, the fact speaks well for the sincerity
and conscientiousness of many writers of plays of
this kind.2

Further, of those that would be inclined to object, a good number
would be classicists, like Sidney, who disliked the very form of the
new drama, and would have no more influence upon choice and
treatment of material than upon form itself. Others were Puritans,
who as yet did not count for much, though, as we shall see, they took
exception to the chronicle history on the very ground of which we
are speaking. Finally, it might be noted that in a number of cases
the chronicles themselves would give different versions of the same
episode, and allow the reader to choose the one that liked him best.
Sometimes they would contradict one another, and one chronicle
would contain matter omitted by another. And of course not every-
one had access to a copy of Holinshed or Foxe's Monuments, while
occasionally a dramatist would use a MS. authority.

1 It is almost certain that we do not possess more than a third of
the chronicle plays written between 1585 and 1610 (see below, p.
cxxii n.) Some of those we have were printed a number of years
after their date of composition. Among the earlier Elizabethan
dramatists probably not one composed a play with any view to its
appearance in print, except perhaps a court-dramatist like Lyly.

1 To understand the situation clearly, we should compare the
writer of chronicle histories with the writer of miracle plays, and
remember that the development of the English drama was a con-
tinuous one. No cycle of miracles gives us an accurate reproduction
of the biblical narrative. Not merely are many episodes omitted,
meagre situations expanded, opportunities for the introduction of
comic scenes utilized, but new figures are brought in, new motives
inserted, new situations devised, and on more than one occasion
large additions made. Chronology is freely handled, legend employed,
popular taste consulted. The story of the growth of a miracle play
cycle is a story not utterly unlike that which we are attempting to
tell.

Ixxvi EDWARD II

VI

We may profitably look upon the story of the
chronicle play as embracing three periods : from its
beginnings to the death of Marlowe, thence to 1600,
and from 1600 on. If we possessed more plays that
could be unhesitatingly assigned to the time before
the Spanish Armada, then the date of that event
would enable us to distinguish four stages, but our
extant material is too scanty to justify a separate
consideration of this early phase. Chronological
problems, indeed, and for that matter problems of
authorship, will constantly arise to perplex us, but
not, it may be hoped, so greatly as to make our
method of procedure invalid or its results more
uncertain than is the lot of human affairs generally.

Two groups of plays may be dealt with somewhat
briefly. First, there are the plays that Professor
Schelling calls ' Senecan derivatives/ These illus-
trate the influence exerted upon dramas based on
chronicle material by the ideals and the technique
of Seneca's tragedies, but are not numerous because
their subject-matter was recalcitrant to classical
discipline. Belonging to our first period are Gor-
boduc, Richardus Tertius, The Misfortunes of Arthur,
and Locrine.* What is at first striking is the limita-
tions of the Senecan influence. None of these plays

1 The first three were written respectively 1562-3, 1579, 1587.
Locrine was printed in 1595, but undoubtedly belongs before the
death of Marlowe, and is by some students placed as early as 1585.
For Gorboduc and Richardus Tertius, see above, pp. xxxv., xli. After
our first period were written several university Senecan plays, whose
existence may be noted, but which will not be discussed.

INTRODUCTION Ixxvii

confines the action to a climactic episode,1 as was
the classical practice ; none of them observes the
unities of place or time as these had been developed
in the Renaissance interpretation of Aristotle. The
Misfortunes of Arthur displays a fairly well unified
plot, but Gorboduc and Richardus Tertius are simply
strings of incident, though neither employs a minor
action in the sense in which Locrine does, wherein
we find a fully developed subplot totally unrelated
to the main theme. All introduce a large number
of figures. It is important that we should notice the
compulsive nature of the material, which refused
absolutely to be cast into the Senecan mould. The
Senecan influence shows itself in the long rhetorical
speeches, the profusion of reflective and philo-
sophical apothegm, the conception of character, the
use of certain technical devices, such as the nuntius,
the avoidance, though not always strict, of action
on the stage, and in other ways that need not be
catalogued. Through the exhibition of these
features, these plays are related to the learned
drama of the universities and the court circle ; at
the same time, they help to illustrate the relations
between the Elizabethan drama in general and
ancient drama. But the classical influence is not
important as regards the chronicle history, outside
of this group of plays, and the chronicle drama was
affected by it only superficially and occasionally.
The modified Elizabethan chorus, which is often
used to enable the playwright to shift the scene, to

1 The Misfortunes of Arthur comes nearest to doing so.

Ixxviii EDWARD II

annihilate time, or to convey information as to the
plot, does descend from the classical chorus, and is
naturally especially well suited to the aims and
methods of the chronicle history. Hence it is of
frequent occurrence. But when used it is not to be
thought of as showing specific Senecan or classical
influence, for it had become a common Elizabethan
stage device ; moreover, as just hinted, its use
involved no alteration in chronicle history form,
but serves perhaps to display in the clearest light the
essential nature of that form. In general, we may
say that though the influence of Seneca appears
here or there,1 yet the subject-matter was too
national, too thoroughly bound up with the insular
life and character, to be easily re-interpreted in
terms of a foreign dramatic ideal.

The second group of plays is well illustrated by
Greene's James IV, for the basis of which Greene
utilized the first novel of the third decade of the
Hecatommithi.2 Such being the case, it is evident
that the structure of the play should be considered
on special grounds. It must be remembered that
Greene did not have to disentangle the threads of
his story from amid a mass, and an often bewildering
mass, of historical details. He was dramatizing an
Italian novella, one of a class of stories that almost
by definition possessed a certain rough unity and a

1 As when ghosts appear in Richard III, or when in the True
Tragedy of Richard III the conception of character is in part deter-
mined by Senecan example. Cf . Churchill, Richard the Third, 398 ff .

2 Creizenach, Anglia, VIII, 419 ; the source had, I believe, been
earlier noticed by P. A. Daniel in The Academy, but I cannot give
the reference.

INTRODUCTION Ixxix

certain roundness of plot. A play founded on such
a story will from that very fact, provided it adhere
with tolerable closeness to the source, have some
degree of continuity and symmetry. The old play
of Lew should be noticed in this connection.1 It
was founded upon a passage in Geoffrey that in a
measure corresponded to a novella, as do many of his
stories, and in consequence the play is also marked
by a comparative symmetry that we feel somehow
disinclined to attribute to the constructive skill of
the author. It may be asked with justice whether
if either writer had found the incidents of his play
in the later chronicles, dispersed among the events
of foreign war and internal dissension, he would have
been able to extricate them from their surroundings
and present them as simply and as perspicuously
as in these two dramas.2 Each play at least has

1 Perrett, Story of Lear, 102 if., shows that the play was written
after 1590, since the writer borrowed from Faerie Queene, II, x ;
his suggestion (113) that Lodge's Euphues Shadow, 1592, was utilized
does not seem convincing. The play belongs before 1594, as it was
entered in that year in the Stationers' Register.

2 Cf. my article, A Note on Act Division as practised in the Early
Elizabethan Drama, Western Reserve University Bulletin, 1902,
pp. 31-3. After publishing that article, I was interested to learn
that Luick in 1898 had given expression to the same idea in his
article in Festgabe fur Heinzel, working it out, however, in much
greater detail. He goes so far as to say (134-5) : " Est ist denkbar,
dass gewisse technische Eigenschaften zunachst nur infolge der Be-
schaffenheit des Stoffes, unabhangig vom Dichter sich einstellen und
erst spater in ihrer Wirksamkeit fur die Zwecke des Dramas erkannt
werden, dass man sie hierauf bewusst oder unbewusst anstrebt, auch
wenn sie nicht von der Quelle geboten oder nahegelegt werden, dass
also mit einem Wort, das Material den Stil beeinflusst — Stil in
hoherem Sinn genommen." One wonders whether the argument be not
pushed too far, but the truth of the underlying idea is beyond question.
A somewhat similar point with regard to the possible influence of
Plutarch's biographies is lightly touched on by Creizenach, IV, 186.

Ixxx EDWARD II

an organized plot, and in that respect differs
notably from the run of contemporary chronicle
histories.

Nevertheless, the tendency which these plays
represent, though again important for the drama in
general, is of little significance for us except as
emphasizing by contrast the somewhat haphazard
nature of chronicle play structure. Moreover, what
structural progress we shall find in the chronicle
history as a literary species will not be due so much
to the nature of the material, as to the reflective
genius of the playwright.

Of the extant plays in the normal line of chronicle
history development, upon which our attention will
be centred henceforward, The Famous Victories of
Henry V is probably the earliest.1 Intrinsically
it is of absolutely no merit, being devoid of style,
characterization, or any vestige of dramatic power.2
It is written in the baldest prose, which the unscrupu-
lous printer cut up into short lengths to pass for
verse, and Tarlton's own popularity was doubtless
what gave it the vogue it seems to have possessed.3
The play has, nevertheless, an extrinsic interest for
several reasons. It undoubtedly supplied hints to
Shakespeare, and perhaps also to the author of

1 We know that Tarlton took part in it, and Tarlton died in
September, 1588. The play may easily be much earlier ; cf. con-
jectural dates of Collier and Schelling, above, p. xxxix, note. For
the sources see Kabel, Die Sage von Heinrich V, Palaestra LXIX,
and Baeske, Oldcastle : Falstaff, Palaestra L.

2 Save perhaps in the somewhat amusing scene in which Derrick
and John impersonate Henry and the Chief Justice.

3 Nashe, Pierce Penilesse, Works, ed. McKerrow, I, 213."]

INTRODUCTION Ixxxi

Locrine.1 In addition, it gives us a shrewd glance
into the ' milieu ' of the chronicle history in its
period of inception. Had the play been designed
to please a refined audience, its author must have
striven to bestow some touch of poetry, to impart
some grace of language, to instil some life into his
figures. Unfortunately he could only too confidently
rely upon the clownery of Tarlton and the patriotic
temper of the spectators ; and in consequence we see
plainly the essentially ' popular ' origin of this
dramatic species. Its beginnings are to be sought
just where it is for us most difficult to find them,
among the long-lost and long-forgotten plays of the
inn yards and the theatre. Its growth owed little
to Court patronage, but very much to the enthusiasm
of miscellaneous audiences.2 Its decline, as we shall
see, was due, not so much to desertion by the people,
as to the vicissitudes of the stage in the reign of
James.3

1 Or vice versa, as the relative dates of the two plays are not
definitely known. Both Strumbo and John are cobblers, each is
pressed for the wars, each has his attendant clown, and their military
experiences are not unlike.

2 See above, p. xliii.

3 The anonymous play of Jack Straw may be mentioned here as
further illustrating these remarks, but not as deserving extensive
treatment. The date is probably about 1587 (see the edition by
H. Schiitt, 1901, 62) ; the author is unknown, though Schiitt assigns
the work to Peele. The play was designed for the same kind of
audience as that of The Famous Victories, and was written by a
playwright of much the same capacity. It differs, however, in two
respects: first, as being written in a mixture of prose, doggerel
couplets of four accents, and blank verse ; second, as showing some-
what the influence of material upon structure in that the writer deals
only with the rebellion of Wat Tyler, and hence his play is better
unified. It is impossible, nevertheless, to believe that this improve-
ment was the result of deliberate forethought.

Ixxxii EDWARD II

Out of the discussion as to the relative dates of
The True Tragedy of Richard III and The Trouble-
some Raigne of King John nothing decisive seems
to have arisen.1 The former play begins with a
conversation between Truth and Poetry, in which
Poetry, in the attitude of one desirous of instruction,
asks various questions that elicit from the lips of
Truth a flood of historical information serving as a
kind of propaedeutic to the drama itself. Truth is
sponsor for the work and asserts that her function
is to add ' bodies to the shadows ' in which Poetry
ordinarily deals. So completely is the writer
dominated by this conception of his dramatic office
that he several times intrudes into the dialogue lists
of such happenings as he could not manage to produce
on the stage. It is very amusing that though in one

1 Kopplow, Shakespeare's " King John " und Seine Quellen, 1900,
29 ff. ; Churchill, Story of Richard, 485 ff., where he supports the
theory of Fleay that The True Tragedy was later than the Henry VI
plays. The evidence that Marlowe influenced the writer of Richard
III does not seem as strong as Churchill would have us believe. As
we have no space for the detailed analysis of the problem, I have cut
the knot by accepting the traditional date, c. 1587-8, which is cer-
tainly supported by the extraordinary mixture of prose, poulter's
measure, and blank verse in which the play is written (compare
Jack Straw) and by the points assembled by Kopplow, 28.

It may be observed, at the same time, that the common belief
that The Troublesome Raigne was written after Tamburlaine is not
necessarily well grounded. What students usually call the Prologue,
in which the reference to Tamburlaine occurs, is really entitled
' Lines to the Gentlemen Readers,' and hence may have to do only
with the printing of the play in 1591 (note that Tamburlaine was
printed in 1590). Moreover, these ' lines ' do not describe the play
with any accuracy, as may easily be seen by anyone who chooses
to compare, and hence sound very much more like bait thrown out
for an unwary prospective purchaser, who might glance at them to
find out the character of the play, than like a real prologue. We
know well enough that publishers did adopt such devices. Barnaby

INTRODUCTION Ixxxiii

place a stage direction tells us that the queen and
her children enter and take sanctuary, yet there is
no accompanying dialogue and the stage direction
occurs between two scenes taking place in a distant
part of England. One wonders just how the situa-
tion was made clear to the spectators of this ' dumb-
show/ though the author does not give it that name.1
Furthermore, the fact that so much preliminary infor-
mation was thought necessary shows how far the
author was from conceiving of his play as an indepen-
dent whole. A good play should contain within itself
all the data necessary to its comprehension, should
furnish its own explanation, and answer its own prob-
lems. A good play is a sphere. But the chronicle
dramatist thought of his play as a fragment.2

Riche complains of having been taken in by ' flourishing titles '
(Faultes, 1606, 40). Yet a further current misconception may be
noted. It is true that the play as printed was divided into two parts,
but was it in the first place ? In Steevens' edition in Six Old Plays
it takes up ninety-three full pages. Leir in the same volume takes
up eighty-five. In other words, the two parts of the one take up
only eight more pages than the single play. Again, the first part occu-
pies fifty-six pages, the second thirty-seven. The probability is that
the division of the play into parts had to do only with the printing
of it. If so, the lines prefixed to the second part can hardly be a re-
named prologue. The play is perhaps earlier than Tamburlaine ;
the Marlowe parallels that Kopplow brings forward, p. 25, prove
little one way or the other (indeed they are not parallels at all, con-
sidered in relation to context).

1 It is proper to point out that the play was carelessly printed and
that the MS. may even have been seriously defective. Churchill, 404.

2 Cf. Henry V, V, Prologue, i ff.:

Chov. Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story,
That I may prompt them : and of such as have,
I humbly pray them to admit the excuse
Of time, of numbers and due course of things,
Which cannot in their huge and proper life
Be here presented.

Ixxxiv EDWARD II

English history was composed of a long chain of
incidents. Selecting more or less arbitrarily two
points some distance apart, he severed the chain
thereat, and the excised portion formed his play.
His endings are points in time, not in evolution,
unless it so happens that the wheel of evolution comes
full circle just in the nick of time.1

In surveying the portion of history that he
selected, the author of The Troublesome Raigne
confined his attention to three lines of incident.
John's quarrel with the Pope, the wars with France,
and the death of Arthur. These he handled with
more skill than is displayed in the previous play,
though hardly so well as quite to justify the praise
bestowed upon his work by Luick.2 To be sure, he
so manipulates events as to create causal relations

1 A radically different view of this play is entertained by Churchill.
He regards it as a character-drama, showing the influence of Marlowe
in the dominating position occupied by the figure of Richard. " The
True Tragedy shows such a selection of scenes and such a subordina-
tion of details that the figure of Richard is always before the actual
or the mental eye " (p. 399). I cannot quite comprehend this judg-
ment. Richard is hardly more dominant, in the sense in which
Tamburlaine is, in the play than in the chronicle accounts of his
reign, and I cannot feel that he ' absorbs ' such interest as the drama
excites. Churchill admits that the subplot of Shore's wife forms an
exception. Toward the end Richmond receives his full share of
attention, and the play runs on for seven or eight dreary pages
after the death of Richard. (See also the excellent discussion of
this play in Luick, Festgabe fur Heinzel, 178 ff., 186-7.) Ve^ we
may freely admit that the author had a definite conception of
Richard's character, and that he stands on a higher plane than the
writer of The Famous Victories. He was also somewhat influenced
by Legge's Richardus Tertius (Churchill, 475 ff.).

2 Festgabe fur Heinzel, 1898, 175 ff. Creizenach, IV, 596 ff., also
praises this play from this point of view and remarks that the author
was perhaps the first dramatist to endeavour to arrange chronicle
material in an artistic fashion.

INTRODUCTION Ixxxv

where the chronicles do not exhibit them and where,
indeed, they did not exist (the revolt of the barons,
for instance, having no connection in reality with the
death of Arthur), and thus he may well have enter-
tained a higher conception of unity than at first
sight we might suppose. Yet apparently he failed
to perceive that it was inconsistent with dramatic
unity to present his several themes as of equal rank.
All three are co-ordinate in importance, and our
attention in consequence 'is dissipated over a wide
field. Real unity is not attained, nor can we say
justly that the dramatist understood quite what it
meant. It is still the unity of personality that is his
principal concern, and the play still fails to rise above
the plane of a survey.

This conclusion becomes the more firmly grounded
when we consider the character of the Bastard.1
Historically a person of nothing like the importance
he possesses in the play, he was evidently a figure
in which the dramatist took the greatest interest,
and may perhaps be regarded as the first attempt at
dramatic creation in the higher sense of the term
that the chronicle history, if not the popular drama,
displays. He is the most energetic character in the
piece, bolstering up the weakling John, rebuking the
insurgent nobles, oppressing the clergy, and avenging
Richard the Lion-hearted. It may be noted that he

1 The playwright's real contribution to the development of the
drama is not well understood until we observe the variety of materials
utilized in the construction of this figure. (Steevens, Boswell's
Malone's Variorum, XV, 202, note 8 ; Boswell-Stone, Shakespeare's
Holinshed, 1896, 48 fL; Kopplow, M.S., 12 ff.)

Ixxxvi EDWARD II

appears in every scene in which John figures, and in
three important scenes in which John does not ; in
only two or three scenes is he absent. When he is
sent over to England to press money from the un-
willing monks, the dramatist, instead of remaining
abroad with John, follows his deputy across the
Channel. In view of these facts, we may ask whether
Falconbridge was not, in the mind of the playwright,
almost the central personage.

In the fact that none of the plays just dealt with
betrays, at least in any noticeable degree, the influence
of the great uprush of national feeling that followed
the defeat of the Armada lies another reason for
discussing them before considering the significance
of that tremendous catastrophe.1 When the Spanish
vessels fled before the storm, many of them doomed
to bring unlooked-for wealth to savage Irish and
half -savage Scot, on up the Channel to the north, what
Englishman failed to realize that a great stage of
national development had been completed ? Up to
that time the genius of England had felt itself in a

1 I do not mean, of course, merely that specific references to the
Armada are absent from them, but that they are, on the whole at
any rate, devoid of that heightened and quickened sentiment which
was so strikingly a feature of English life and letters after 1588.
Naturally that fact does not at all prove that they were written
earlier, but it may be accepted as confirmatory of such other evi-
dence as we possess and as justifying the arrangement I have
adopted.

Fleay, Biographical Chronicle, II, 52, sees an allusion to the
' threatened ' Armada in the closing lines of The Troublesome Raigne.
Of course the Armada had been ' threatened ' for several years before
it actually came, so that if any allusion is to be seen here, little aid
is afforded in fixing the date. For a still feebler effort to discover
an allusion in the same play, see Kopplow, 24.

INTRODUCTION Ixxxvii

measure rebuked before that of Spain. A victory so
overwhelming, however, engendered an extravagant
self-confidence in the hearts of the English people.
In response there is struck in the chronicle history
a note hitherto rarely heard. The feelings that
animated Englishmen of 1589 were thrown back to
the earlier periods of their national existence, and
former events were regarded in the light that flared
from the burning hulks of Spanish galleons.

The Armada also marks the entrance of new forces
in another way, since — though we cannot here speak
of any influence that it exerted — its date is yet
practically coincident with the irruption into the
popular drama of a group of men of greater dramatic
talents than those of previous writers for the public
stage. With Kyd and Greene x we have nothing to
do, but Peele interests us somewhat, and Marlowe
and Shakespeare supremely. Whether Peele was
the first of these three to handle chronicle material
no one knows. Certainly little injustice is done him
in considering Edward I before we take up the
greater men.

Peele's superiority to his predecessors was not so
clearly shown in the chronicle history as it was
elsewhere, for he neither took his material more

1 James IV and Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay belong to out-
lying tracts of the chronicle history that have been sufficiently treated.
Various attempts have been made to assign to Greene The Trouble-
some Raigne and Locrine, as well as small parts of the Henry VI
group. Nothing has been established, however, and Greene's activity
in the field of the chronicle history in the narrower sense must
remain matter of individual opinion.

Ixxxviii EDWARD II

seriously, nor did he manipulate it with greater skill.
In fact, the Edward I is structurally considerably
inferior to The Troublesome Raigne or even the old
Richard III.1 Welsh and Scottish battle scenes are
fantastically intermingled with episodes lugged in
by the head and shoulders from second-rate Robin
Hood ballads, and the incongruous spectacle is
further diversified with incidents supposedly drawn
from the private life of Edward's Spanish queen.2
Progress is not to be looked for in this direction.

Yet if Peele treated parts of his material with a
flippant cynicism quite worthy of George Pyeboard,3
his play is not to be cast wholly into the outer dark-
ness. It is the first chronicle history in which the
stage directions evince a deliberate appeal to the
spectacular,4 wherein we doubtless discern the

1 Peele is, however, sometimes condemned too severely in this
regard, for the play was incompetently printed and the MS. was evi-
dently faulty in the extreme. There are, I think, clear indications
that the printer's MS. represented an intermediate stage in the com-
position of the play. What the text was like at the time of acting
we simply do not know. But the drama cannot have been well
constructed in any case.

2 'See above, p. Ixix. Peele was, of course, deliberately making
his profit out of the blind hatred of everything Spanish that ruled
after the Armada. His treatment of Elinor of Castile has been
accurately characterized as infamous.

3 See The Jests of George Peele, printed by Dyce in his edition.

4 Scene I, 40. " The trumpets sound, and enter the train, viz.,
his maimed Soldiers with head-pieces and garlands on them, every
man with his red-cross on his coat ; the Ancient borne in a chair,
his garland and his plumes on his head-piece, his ensign in his hand.
Enter, after them, Glocester and Mortimer bareheaded, and others,
as many as may be. Then enter Longshanks and his wife Elinor,
Edmond Couchback, and Joan, and Signor Mountfort, the Earl of
Leicester's prisoner, with Sailors and Soldiers, and Charles de
Mountfort his brother."

INTRODUCTION Ixxxix

influence of Marlowe's Tamburlaine. The opening
scene, too, envelops the reader in a new atmosphere.
The queen-mother announces to the assembled
lords the imminent arrival of their king, and directs
them to prepare him a suitable welcome. Taking
then the greatness of England as her theme, she
delivers a vigorous and spirited address :

Illustrious England, ancient seat of kings,
Whose chivalry hath royalised thy fame,
That sounding bravely through terrestrial vale,
Proclaiming conquests, spoils, and victories,
Rings glorious echoes through the farthest world ;
What warlike nation, trained in feats of arms,
What barbarous people, stubborn or untamed,
******

Erst have not quaked and trembled at the name
Of Britain and her mighty conquerors ?
******

Thus Europe, rich and mighty in her kings,
Hath feared brave England, dreadful in her kings.

Surely we have here something to which we find
no close parallel in earlier chronicles, for such
apostrophes to England are not made in preceding
plays, though occasionally we may come across a
line or two like those with which The Troublesome
Raigne concludes. The rest of the scene is in keeping
with this opening. Edward makes an imposing
entrance at the head of his army, and the glory that
he has won for England in his Eastern wars is made
the subject of grandiloquent speeches of a similar
cast. The scene possesses a dignity and elevation1

1 Ward, English Dramatic Literature, I, 370 (ed. 1899), says that
Edward's entry " vaguely recalls that of the ^Eschylean Aga-
memnon."

xc EDWARD II

not found in the plays that we have hitherto glanced
at. New elements have made their way into the
chronicle drama. England has at last entered into
her inheritance.

It seems probable that the first part of Henry V
was composed before The First Part of the Contention
between the Houses of York and Lancaster, and The
True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York,1 and it may
very possibly have been anterior even to Edward /,
for it certainly as regards plotting represents a stage
little in advance of that drama. It is " broken and

1 The problems of authorship and date raised by the Henry VI
plays cannot of course be discussed in detail, but it is necessary
that the position on which the remarks in the text above are based
should be made clear. For the literature of the subject in general
see Schelling, Elizabethan Drama, II, 471. 2 and 3 Henry VI were
based respectively on the Contention and the True Tragedy, i
Henry VI was probably revived 1592 (Fleay, Life of Shakespeare,
259 ; cf. W. W. Greg, in The Library, n.s., IV, 270). In I Henry VI
as originally performed (perhaps identical with extant version
minus IV, 2-7), in the Contention, and in the True Tragedy Marlowe
was largely concerned (probably his was the dominating mind in
the last two, if not in i Henry VI). Who were his coadjutors is
uncertain, though many believe that Greene was one of them, nor
is it certain that he had a hand in revising the Contention and the
True Tragedy into 2 and 3 Henry VI. The share of Shakespeare in
the original plays is likewise doubtful. From our point of view,
however, the important matter is that Marlowe appears to have had
a considerable share in all three original plays. Other questions are
merely subsidiary. (Crawford, Collectanea, I, 79, asserts that he can
prove that Marlowe had no share in these plays, but his argument
has not yet been published. Creizenach, IV, 657, note i, calls
the doctrine of collaborative authorship a ' ganzlich verfehlte
Meinung,' and dismisses it rather arbitrarily. At the. worst it de-
serves, especially in a work of the scope and importance of the
Geschichte des Neueren Dramas, somewhat more respectful con-
sideration.) Moreover, the Contention and the True Tragedy may
be regarded as identical with 2 and 3 Henry VI, since in the last two
plays the arrangement and disposition of material and the concep-
tion of character are the same as in the first two. What improve-

INTRODUCTION xci

choppy to an intolerable degree/'1 Yet the play is
not entirely aimless, since the desire of the authors
seems to have been to give a rapid and comprehen-
sive survey of the wars with France and to provide
through York's interview with Mortimer and the
marriage of Henry with Margaret a point of depar-
ture for the great civil wars that were to form the
subject of the succeeding members of the series.
The purpose is not satisfactorily achieved and was
in itself essentially non-dramatic. In that respect,
however, neither the authors nor the public found
fault with it.

In one important feature, to be sure, Henry VI,
part i, is far superior to Edward I. The dignified,
and even lofty tone characteristic of the first scene of
that play is not maintained throughout the drama,
large portions of which are trivial and vulgar in the
extreme. Such is not the case with Henry VI,
wherein the general tone is at once poetically more
elevated than in Edward I and far more consistently
supported. The style of the play is not so much
unequal as varied ; it permits us indeed to conjecture

ment is found is in versification, poetical quality, adequacy of dic-
tion and expression, psychological detail, a few historical correc-
tions, and the handling of particular situations (e.g. the exit of
Gloster, 2 Henry VI, I, iii, 140-55). The improvement is undeni-
ably great and manifold, but it does not extend to fundamental
conceptions. In other words, history is interpreted and dramatized
in substantially the same way in both groups ; these may therefore
be considered as one, and as exemplifying a stage in the treatment of
historical material preliminary to Edward II. I did not see Tucker
Brooke's article on the authorship of these plays (Transactions of
the Connecticut A cad. of Arts and Sciences, vol. 17) until too late to
make use of it.

1 Furnivall, Leopold Shakspere, xxxviii.

xcii EDWARD II

a multiple authorship, but upon a horizontal rather
than a vertical scale.

The first part of Henry VI has then a particular
interest because it shows the greatest writers of the
time engaged in historical work, and because it was
the first chronicle history to exhibit in a notable
legree a seriousness of style and intention. Yet it
does more. It shows that these poets, coming fresh
to the dramatization of their country's history,
appeared to feel no more than did their predecessors
in the work the necessity of looking below the surface
of events, of attempting to introduce more than a
semblance of order into the chaos of dramatic
material supplied by the chronicles. To ascribe to
collaboration the ' choppy ' character of the play is
of course merely one way of saying that they were
willing to enter upon the task under such conditions.
Yet among them there was at least one gifted with
the capacity to see more deeply into the nature of
dramatic plotting than did his fellow-labourers. It
will not be out of place here to point out very briefly
how rapidly Marlowe's dramatic powers were matur-
ing.

Although Marlowe found unity of personality in
the drama when he entered the field, there remained
somewhat for him to do toward making it an
effective structural principle. It remained for him
to throw overwhelming emphasis upon the unifying
figure through conceiving it as the incarnation of an
elemental force, for it is thus that Tamburlaine
appeals to us. In this way he not merely provided

INTRODUCTION xciii

a central figure, but actually centralized the interest.
Yet he himself doubtless realized that in this respect
he had gone too far and that he had, through the
failure to provide a proper antagonist, deprived his
play of real dramatic power, making it simply a
succession of scenes in which motives and situations
were repeated time and again and of which the
outcome was never for a moment in uncertainty.
At any rate, no succeeding play of his displays the
same disproportion among the characters. If Tam-
burlaine seemed for the moment to be the equal of
the gods, Faustus is not such. Possessed of gigantic
aspirations, he is yet a man in their fulfilment, the
struggle is a struggle carried on in a human soul,
and the issue of the conflict is defeat. Of the Jew of
Malta we may speak in the same terms. Here the
impulse to the plot comes originally from the outside,
the principal character has assistants in his villainy,
he miscalculates his means, and eventually is out-
witted at his own game. Throughout the plays is
to be discerned a steady progress toward the goal of
equilibrium in characterization, towards the opposi-
tion of fit antagonists to a hero with human limitations.
As much may be said of the treatment of the plot.
Tamburlaine is a succession of loosely related scenes,
in which there is endless repetition, and which
possess spectacular, but hardly dramatic interest.
The conflict is a purely physical conflict, and the.
hero pursues the career of a professional conqueror.
The mutilated condition of Faustus compels us to
speak with caution as regards its form on leaving

xciv EDWARD II

Marlowe's hands ; yet we can safely say that despite
the numerous trivialities that compose the middle
part of the action, some notion of a definite conflict
carried to a definite conclusion was in his mind at the
time of writing. That the plan was confused, vague,
overlaid with unessential and irritating details
must be admitted ; still, when we dismiss from
consideration for an instant the horse-courser and
the clown, the emperor and the rival magician, the
remainder of the play, like some battered fragment
of antique statuary, enables us to trace the concep-
tion in the artist's thought — proportioned, sym-
metrical, unified. A further advance confronts us
in the Jew of Malta, wherein the parts of the action
are so related to one another as to constitute a plot in
the true sense of the term, though to be sure not one
with the execution of which we are unable to find fault.
If we are justified in detecting in the plays of
which Marlowe was undisputed author such evidences
of a progressive comprehension of the dramatic art,
we would seem to be likewise justified in looking for
similar evidences in the group of dramas that we are
now considering, so far at least as their being written
in collaboration permits. Marlowe had in Tambur-
laine treated semi-historical material, and in i
Henry VI had undertaken the chronicle history
proper. The fruits then of a certain amount of
experience with subject-matter of this kind might
be expected to appear in the Contention and The
True Tragedy, and in fact these plays unquestionably
show a real desire to survey an historical period in

INTRODUCTION xcv

such a way as to give a more than merely superficial
account of it, and at the same time a desire to
arrange the incidents in accordance with a deliber-
ately adopted principle. This design was very
imperfectly carried out of course, but that its
execution was attempted is the important thing.

The mechanical explanation of the course of human
events that occupies so disproportionate a space in
modern historical science is found only occasionally
and in its rudimentary form in the histories of that
day. A revolt of the commons might no doubt be
ascribed to a period of dearth or to high taxation,
and in a few simple cases of that type something like
a mechanical explanation would come to light,
though even here Providence rather than natural
forces operating in an orderly manner would usually
be thought of as really at work. For the Elizabethan
the moving forces of history were three in number :
Providence, Fortune (whom we meet everywhere in
Renaissance literature),1 and human character. The

1 A multitude of passages from the various Renaissance litera-
tures might be given to illustrate the point (e.g. Machiavelli, //
Principe, XXV ; Petrarch's Letters, passim, notably IV, xii, VI, v ;
Ariosto, Orlando Furioso, xxvi, 47, Con la fortuna d'Alessandro,
senza Cui saria fumo ogni disegno, e nebbia), but it is clearly enough
stated in Chapman's Bussy d'Ambois, V, ii, 41 ff. (ed. Parrott) :

So this whole man

. . . shall reel and fall

Before the frantic puffs of blind-born chance,

That pipes through empty men, and makes them dance.

Not so the sea raves on the Lybian sands. . . .

As Fortune swings about the restless state

Of virtue, now thrown into all men's hate.

See also, in the preface to Knolles' History of the Turks, ed. 1610,
his analysis of the reasons why European countries had not over-
come the Ottoman.

xcvi EDWARD II

first two were unfathomable. Whoever tried really
to understand a particular historical process would
seek his explanation, after making all due allowance
for the finger of God and for incalculable chance,
in the purposes and qualities of the men concerned.1
It is not to be supposed that writers of plays should
have looked upon history otherwise, especially since,
as serious dramatists, character would be almost
their chief pre-occupation.2 From the point of view
of the interpretation of history, then, the plays that
we are considering should be judged by the clearness
and force with which that explanation is presented.
The general conceptions of character inevitably
came largely from the chronicles, but the sharpness
of outline, the fullness of portraiture, the content of
personality, were for the poet to supply. It was for
him, in short, to energize events by depicting human
character as a visibly operating principle. Thus
looked at, the Contention and the True Tragedy
exhibit a desire to do more than pass rapidly over
the mere surface of things, as chronicle history
writers had usually been content to do. Character

1 How large a part does this type of explanation occupy in the
Henry VII of Bacon, whom we think of as our first writer of philo-
sophical history ; so in the Italians, his predecessors, cf . Machiavelli
and Guicciardini ; it is a maxim of Guicciardini, for example, that
the wisdom of a plan of action is not to be judged by the outcome ;
and other thoughtful writers are constantly giving utterance to the
same idea.

2 Sometimes, as here and there in Jonson's Sejanus and Catiline,
the poet seems to have in view the larger sweep of impersonal social
and economic forces ; but everything of this kind Jonson would
get from the classics, and in any case the explanation is not mechani-
cal in the modern sense.

INTRODUCTION xcvii

is vigorously presented, if not always with refine-
ment or consistency. For the first time a reasonably
successful attempt is made to ' philosophize ' history
in the only way possible for a playwright of that
day : namely, to interpret events in terms of human
character. For this reason they serve as indicative
of the road by which the chronicle history passes
eventually into the historical drama, yet because
of their manifold imperfections they still remain
well within the bounds of the species.

As we read the Contention, it becomes apparent
also that we cannot divide the play into separate
and independent lines of interest, as was the case
with Edward I. Practically all of the material taken
from the chronicles bears upon the struggle between
the Houses of York and Lancaster, with perhaps the
exception of one or two minor episodes. No doubt
the process of selection was not in this instance
very difficult, and yet Holinshed contains a good
deal of incidental matter that might easily have
distracted the minds of dramatists less intent upon
the main issue. Early in the play there are put into
the mouth of York lines designed to give the spectator
a point of view and a key to the events that follow.

Then Yorke be still a while till time do serve,
Watch thou, and wake when others be a sleepe,
******

Then will I raise aloft the milke-white rose,
******

And force perforce, ile make him yeeld the Crowne,
Whose bookish rule hath puld faire England downe.1

1 I, i, 155 ff. Cambridge Shakespeare, ed, 1893, IX.
G

xcviii EDWARD II

Moreover, events so apparently irrelevant as Cade's
rebellion, and such apparently retarding episodes
as York's own journey to Ireland, are distinctly
made to forward his plans. York instigates the
first as a means of furthering his designs through
the creation of a state of unrest within the kingdom,1
and through the second provides himself with means
for taking advantage of the opportunities that may
thus be offered.

'Twas men I lackt, and now they give them me.2

%
A fairly consistent point of view is thus maintained,

and the action consequently possesses a certain
coherence, a logical sequence, foreign to earlier
plays. The chronicle history has undergone a gain
in distinctness and definiteness of intention.

The defects of the play in the matter of structure
are, of course, equally obvious. They arise in the
main from an overplus of incident. The downfall
of Gloster, the banishment and death of Suffolk, the
death of Winchester are all necessary preliminaries
to the execution of York's plans, but are only
preliminaries. Presented, however, at such length
as in the play, they distract attention and dissipate
dramatic interest. The fact that the playwright

1 Holinshed does not supply this link of connection. He says
that the rebellion of Cade was perhaps stirred up by friends of York,
but he does not say that York himself brought it about, nor does he
suggest that it was merely one step in a plot that looked far ahead.
The foresight and prudence characteristic of York in the play are
not characteristic of him in the chronicle to at least anything like
the same extent.

* III, i, 172. This suggestion is not in Holinshed either.

INTRODUCTION xcix

tells us from time to time in so many words just
what the relation of a given episode is to the plan
of the drama as a whole, is no sufficient make-
weight for such dispersed emphasis. When we add
to these incidents the rebellion of Cade and the final
rebellion of York himself, we are faced with a mass
of material almost unmanageable in its extent. No
sense of proportion is exhibited, there is no effective
dramatic discrimination between major and minor
parts, between what is preliminary and what is an
integral part of the main theme. The dramatist
knows the logical relation of the parts of his action
and he gives us a statement of it, but fails to
incorporate it in the warp and woof. The con-
ception of the survey of a period is still in fact, if
not in theory, dominant, and it renders impossible a
due concentration of interest. Dramatists still had
to learn two lessons in dealing with historical
subject-matter : that of economy of material, and
of a properly distributed emphasis in its representa-
tion.

The True Tragedy possesses, of course, a similar
unity of theme which is obscured by defects of a
similar kind. The events depicted form the upshot
of the plans laid by Richard in the previous drama,
and the play closes when the objective point of the
dramatist is fully attained and the House of York
is firmly seated upon the throne. In good chronicle
fashion, however, Richard dies early, and his place
is taken by his son and heir. The succession of
battle-scenes is altogether monotonous, and the

c EDWARD II

play lacks something of the interest of its pre-
decessor, since the struggle is mainly one of physical
force.

It hardly seems probable that we go too far in
ascribing to Marlowe the main credit for the advance
that the Contention and The True Tragedy display
over earlier dramas. In the work neither of Peele
nor of Greene, both of whom have often been
assigned shares in the collaboration, can be dis-
cerned much that justifies holding them responsible,
as regards either structure or conception of character.
To neither, for example, can have been due the
powerfully imagined though roughly executed figure
of Margaret. Yet in any case, and without calling
to our aid the fact that " a general consensus of the
best opinion assigns to Marlowe a chief hand in both
Contentions, "* we can see that in them he must have
gained a large amount of useful experience, and that
to his work upon them was largely due that ' his-
torical spirit ' of which we find in Edward II such
plentiful manifestations.

I should not wish to be misunderstood in thus
using the term ' historical spirit/ Marlowe did not
make any effort to envelop his figures in the specific
atmosphere of their time, nor do we expect him to
exhibit any great measure of profound historical

1 Schelling, Elizabethan Drama, I, 267. ' Both Contentions '
means the Contention and The True Tragedy. Schelling remarks :
"i Henry VI is considered an old play by Greene, assisted by Peele
and Marlowe." I should like to accept this assignment, which would
excellently account for the scrappiness of i Henry VI and the com-
parative unity of the other parts, but as yet I have not been able
to see much belonging to Greene in any of these plays.

INTRODUCTION ci

insight. He had neither the philosophical instinct
of men like Machiavelli and Bacon, nor their broad
knowledge of the doings of the human race in its
corporate and political capacity. fiBut I do believe
that he came to look upon a given historical process,
when selected for dramatization, as essentially
unitary fact, as a tissue woven of cause and effect.
The particular causes and effects may, perha]
be wrongly connected from the point of view of
present knowledge. An^' interpretation of history/
Jiowever, need not be correct in order to be an
interpretation, and the historical spirit has under-
gone change and development as have all other^
things. Marlowe, as we. shall see, endeavoured inf
Edward II to select, proportion, and emphasize his
material in such a way as to illustrate with logical
cogency a salient aspect of the reign of Edward of
Carnarvon. He endeavoured furthermore to explain_
events through the purposes and qualities of the
men concerned in them. Finally, he strove to
make his figures real and living, so that tbe relation
between character and events should appear ngcea-
jary and organic. To entertain such aims is to
be animated by the historical spirit, .* liough perhaps
not to be acquainted with modern improvements.

Let us glance at what material Marlowe did not
include that would have formed a lively attraction
for the ordinary chronicle history writer, as well as
for his audience. Marlowe omitted the suppression
of the order of the Te;.nple ; everything connected
with the constant warfare with Scotland, except

EDWARD II

the allusions in 11. 655-6, 913, 962, 975 ff. ; every-
thing connected with the Irish wars, except the allu-
sions in 11. 419, 960 ; everything connected with
Edward's journey to France to do homage, and
with the French attacks on his continental pos-
sessions, except the allusions in 11. 958, 1350 ff. ;
all quarrels between Edward and the nobles on
grounds other than his maintenance of lewd favour-
ites, such as the quarrel between the king and
Lancaster about Lancaster's homage for the earldom
of Lincoln, and that arising from Isabella's exclu-
sion from the castle of Badlesmere. Furthermore,
he omitted all private wars, such as those between
Banister and Lancaster, between Middleton and the
Bishop of Durham, between the Marcher lords and
the Despensers, except the allusion in 1. 1341 f . ; all
the. give and take of the war against Lancaster and
his party save their final overthrow ; the incident
of the impostor Poidras ; the treason of Andrew
Harclay ; the condemnation of Orleton, Bishop of
Hereford ; and finally, all such distractions of the
kingdom as took place between the murder of
Edward and the execution of Mortimer, except the
rising of the I?arl of Kent. We learn much from
these omissions alope.

Let us observe also s^me of the principal means by
which the material that TJarlowe did include was
brought into close logical j connection.1 /We may
notice first that the defeat and execution of

1 Illustrative quotations from Holnshed, as well as further dis-
cussion, will be found in the notes.

INTRODUCTION ciii

Lancaster are made the immediate outcome of the
struggle against Gaveston and of his murder.
Actually these events had little to do with one
another^ Ten years intervened between them,
during which Lancaster and Edward were more
than once reconciled only to quarrel again, and the
former's overthrow and death were the direct
result of a quite new series of events^/^Tis true,
however, that Holinshed1 had already called atten-
tion to the king's enduring memory of his dead
favourite, and had suggested that the desire to
obtain revenge for Gaveston's murder was an
additional motive leading Edward to show no pity
toward the rebellious earl when once he had him at
his feet. Marlowe improves upon this suggestion^
^bliterates_all other causes of quarrel, and^unites
thejtwo events by a stringent necessity. He alsjL
saw it to be dramatically inevitable that Warwick
should share Lancaster's fate. As a matter of fact,
Warwick died peaceably in his bed several years
after the savage slaughter upon JBlacklow _Hill.
The lives of other persons are altered with a like
^sovereign disregard of pedantic historical accuracy.
The Spensers were not men of negligible importance
who elected to creep into court favour through
dependence upon Gaveston. Themselves of noble
birth, it was not until some years after his fall that
they began to fill his place, in more senses indeed

1 Marlowe drew mainly from Holinshed, borrowing an incident
or two from Fabyan and Stow. See Tzschaschel, Marlowe's Edward
II und seine Quellen, Halle, 1902, which contains little not already
made known by Fleay and Tancock.

civ EDWARD II

than one. .Th^J^ortimersJikewise^had nothing to
do^with the earlier struggle, but_it was from every
point of view a_sure dramatic instinct which laid

early Jin_ the play the fowndbtiOTgjzLAlLJSEE^Il!^.*^

of natures that worked out ultimately to fatal issues. /

Too quick a criticism might see in the play"""
structural weakness arising from a repetitioiL— oL
not unlike what we find in Tamburlaine.

/'The Spensers, it might be said; repeat Gaveston,
\ and the struggle against them duplicates that
1 against him, with the result that after the death of
^v Lancaster there is a certain lowering of tension, a
(Deficiency in dramatic interest. We can hardly
deny that such a lowering of tension does occur,
though due mainly to other causes, as will shortly
be seen. The repetition of motives we may like-
wise admit to exist in some degree, without, how-
ever, great prejudice to Marlowe. (Conceivably
the play might have gained somewhat had the
Spensers been suppressed entirely, and the tragedy
of Gaveston been treated as sufficiently representing
the unwise subservience of Edward to those para-
sites who, in the guise of loving subjects, preyed
upon him and his kingdomTj But was Marlowe quite
prepared to introduce into his subject-matter a
change so sweeping and fundamental, a change
so much more subversive than any of those just
catalogued ? Dramatists who, like Peele and many
another, merely played with history, might distort
it as they would. Dramatists, however, who, like
Marlowe and Shakespeare, had a reverence for

INTRODUCTION cv

their material as belonging to the great past of their
country, quite distinct from their perception of its
availability for dramatic treatment, would be driven
to accept a compromise between the artistic con-
science insisting that the plot should satisfy the
demands of their art and the historical conscience
insisting that it should have at least a general
conformity to the facts of the case. And perhaps
this discussion is somewhat superfluous, since it is
unlikely that Marlowe ever thought of the change
as even desirable. To assume that he did is to
assume that he possessed a full recognition of all
that is implied in the distinction between the two
kinds of historical truth, the ideal and the literal,
that he had a deep philosophic insight into
dramatic problems. Flashes of such insight Eliza-
bethan criticism and practice everywhere display,
but nowhere, and least of all as early as 1590, do
they cohere into a reasoned theory such as is in
this case implied. The Elizabethan drama was
opportunist and empirical, and one learned how\
to handle historical material by handling it as best
one could.

Meanwhile, there are other points of view. There
is, after all, no mere repetition. Young Spenser is
no mere replica of Gaveston. The king's fondness
for him is largely due to his own loving memory of
the close association between him and the dead
favourite, and so the second situation rather con-
tinues the first than repeats it. More deeply con-
sidered, it is in Edward's very nature to have

cvi EDWARD II

favourites. His greatest need is to be loved as a
friend, not obeyed as a sovereign. His greatest fault
is that he cannot reconcile the demands of his nature
with those of his rank. Marlowe has ennobled the
relationship between Edward and his minions by
creating a reciprocal affection. Holinshed no doubt
gives us to understand that the king loved them
with an entire love, but that they selfishly used him
chiefly as a means whereby to hoist themselves into
prominence and power. In the play Gaveston's love
for Edward is deeply personal, and the cold blood in
which Young Spenser reckons up his grounds for
attaching himself to the king's party becomes
warmed by the sun of his favour into a genuine
friendship. Thus the repetition, to use again a
word that hardly applies, is dramatically an out-
growth of character, just as historically it was a
necessary ingredient of the plot, and we see clearly
how the creative vigour of the poet informs " dust
and ashes, dead and done with," with vital force.

Just because, however, Marlowe did not succeed
in establishing an equally close logical nexus in
the representation of certain other characters does
the play undergo that lowering of dramatic ten-
sion of which we cannot deny the existence. As
regards both Isabel and Young Mortimer, we
are compelled after the overthrow of Lancaster
to adjust ourselves somewhat violently to a new
psychological situation. Both of them undergo
changes in character that do not seem adequately
cacounted for. Marlowe desired unquestionably

INTRODUCTION cvii

to make these changes comprehensible, and doubt-
less had clearly in mind the process by which they
were brought about. Yet he seems not quite to
have succeeded in making his conception drama-
tically effective.

The strife of Edward with his nobles falls natur-
ally into two stages : the struggle of Young Mortimer
and his fellows, together with Isabel, against
Gaveston, who is supported by the king, and the
rebellion of Isabel and Young Mortimer after the
death of Gaveston. In the first the king is the
culprit — in the second, the martyr ; in the first
the nobles are just judges — in the second, unjust
and cruel executioners. In the first, again, our
sympathy goes out to the injured queen and the
insulted barons. In the second, however, it is
quite as inevitably cast with the suffering king.

Here is a problem in the degeneration of char-
acter that Marlowe appears hardly to have solved
with dramatic success. Young Mortimer in the
first part of the play is frank, sincere, audacious,
high - tempered, reminding us much of Hotspur.
In the second he is the queen's lover, a traitor to
the king, a crafty dissimulator, a cruel and treacherous
murderer. Isabel in the first part resembles
Greene's Dorothea. She is in love with the king,
and his happiness is her sole concern.

Then let him stay ; for rather than my love
Shall be oppress'd with civil mutinies,
I will endure a melancholy life,
And let him frolic with his minion.

cviii EDWARD II

Or again later —

Heavens can witness I love none but you.
Is this not like —

As if they kill not me, who with him fight ?

The accent of truth is too strong to be lightly
disregarded. If we turn to the latter part of the
play, we find a total change, and Isabel has become
Mortimer's paramour and his furtive accomplice in
the deed of blood. It is no doubt true that some
preparation is made for the transference of Isabel's
affection to Mortimer ; x but hardly enough, one
thinks ; and certainly the transference of affection
will not in itself account for the profound differences
that we have noted.2 Here Marlowe's dramatic
imagination has failed him.

We must not permit this defect in characterization
to obscure what is for us the salient feature of

1 Ward, English Dramatic Literature, I, 350.

2 With regard to the character of Isabel, Professor McLaughlin
says (p. 163 of his edition of Edward II) : " In Marlowe's plan of
building up sympathy against the king until the tragedy was pre-
pared for, he wished to enlist the audience on the queen's side at
first, as a loving and injured wife, then after the reverse action was
under way, he aimed to intensify pity for the victim by every device ;
and what would create a stronger reaction in his favour than the
shamelessness of such a woman as this later Isabel ? So, with this
ultimate treatment in mind, and as if to give a clue to what is coming,
he tainted her early innocence by slanderous blemishes, which her
transformed nature afterward proceeded to verify." Schelling,
Chronicle Play, p. 73, says : " This is probably the true solution
and may likewise account for the fact that Marlowe has been content
to assert rather than to delineate the guilty passion of Mortimer and
the queen." Such an explanation might well serve in the case of a
dramatist of two hundred years later. One may ask, however,
whether it does not represent Marlowe too much in the light of a

INTRODUCTION cix

Edward II. Marlowe has definitely abandoned the
principle of the survey ; the list of his omissions,
taken by itself, is almost sufficient proof of that fact,
and there is abundant confirmatory evidence. He
is not content merely to narrate a series of events,
but insists, though not always with perfect success,
that a given mass of historical material shall be, as
it were, integrated. Each incident shall possess, in
addition to its independent and purely theatric
interest, a cumulative and hence essentially dramatic
value. The catastrophe is no longer a point in time
simply, but one in evolution, and to understand it
we must draw into consideration the entire play.
Edward II, by virtue of the reflective genius of its
author, passes almost beyond the limits of our
definition of the chronicle history, and becomes a
tragedy in the full and large sense, something that
a chronicle history, whatever its title, could not be.1

playwright approaching his problem from the point of view of
theoretical aesthetics, as Schiller, for instance, might have done.
We cannot, of course, prove that Marlowe did not reason thus, and
no one will deny that he reflected upon his art long and earnestly.
Yet I venture to doubt whether a dramatic problem presented itself
to any early Elizabethan dramatist in quite so neatly formulated a
fashion. See the note on line 1559 for the true explanation. Here it
may be merely remarked that anyone who will read Holinshed's
account of the reign of Edward II, and will bear in mind the condi-
tions of a developing art as they are shown in the pages above, will
find himself prepared to understand at once, (a) the treatment of the
character of Isabel ; (b) Marlowe's reticence as to her relations with
Mortimer (see note on 1. 448). In the same way, a study of Holin-
shed explains the inconsistencies in the character of Joan of Arc in
i Henry VI.

1 Obviously because in the typical chronicle history, which ran
several threads of action side by side, the element of conflict, in
some form essential to tragedy, could be only incidental.

ex EDWARD II

And so I may be excused for protesting strongly
against the frequent depreciation of Marlowe's
specifically dramatic talent. He was a great lyric
poet, but he was not, be it emphasized, a lyric poet
' gone wrong/ 1

VII

In certain fundamental respects wellnigh every
play written on a serious subject after Marlowe
betrays his influence, for Marlowe, besides establish-
ing blank verse as the proper medium of expression
for serious drama, created the first tragic character,
gave the first display of tragic passion, first invested
the catastrophe of human life with tragic dignity.
Yet our attention may be called only in passing to
these extraordinary achievements, since the chronicle
drama was not affected by them in any way peculiar
to itself. Here, as often elsewhere, historical plays
merge indistinguishably into the great mass of
dramatic productions and take only their individual
shares in benefits conferred freely upon all. From
our special point of view, which considers the
chronicle plays as a measurably independent group,
it can hardly perhaps be asserted that his influence,
except upon Shakespeare, was either broad or deep.
In so far as any play dealing with English history
exhibits the fruits even of a not entirely successful
attempt to endow a disorderly succession of historical

1 Even on revival to-day the dramatic power of the play is
strongly felt. Cf. Keller, Shakespeare Jahrbuch, XL, 374 ; Dametz,
Marlowes Edward II und Shakespeares Richard II, 1904.

INTRODUCTION cxi

episodes with qualities of proportion, emphasis, and
coherence, we may say that its writer was in some
degree Marlowe's disciple. But such plays are rare.
It must be frankly admitted that except for the
work of Marlowe and Shakespeare, and except for
a play here and a play there, the chronicle history
did not engage the attention of the better men in
their better moments. What are the best plays of
Peele, of Greene,1 of Hey wood, of Dekker ? Con-
sidered as Elizabethan plays, chronicle histories
after 1590-3 2 are technically less crude than those
before. But so are Elizabethan plays in general.
After that date they are, taken by and large, on a
higher poetic level. So is the drama in general.
Characterization improves, writers become more skil-
ful with practice, there is a general advance. Other-
wise, and considered simply as chronicle histories,
we may say that no fundamental changes occur.

There are always the exceptions. If we turn, for
example, to the old play of Richard II, Part I,
otherwise called Thomas of Woodstock,3 we can see
very definite traces of Marlowe's influence. Keller
had shown that the author of this play was well
acquainted both with Edward II 4 and Henry VI.

1 It is not fair to the argument to call Friar Bacon a chronicle
history. See above.

2 In so far as we can definitely assign a date.

3 Edited originally by Halliwell, 1870, and again by W. Keller,
in the Shakespeare Jahrbuch, XXXV, 42 ff.

4 Some of the more important of the reminiscences of Edward II
are given in the explanatory notes below. They have to do, as is
natural, with the earlier part of Edward II, since the author of the
Richard did not deal with that prince's deposition and death.

cxii EDWARD II

It particularly interests us, however, that his
handling of material is elevated noticeably above
the usual level of the chronicle history, and shows
distinctly a desire on his part really to unify his
action. Of course, he manipulates his facts with
very great freedom, and he presents no carefully
accurate record of historical events. Yet, though he
seems often to have trusted his memory instead of
referring to his sources, his deviations from the
chronicle are by no means aimless. He was chiefly
concerned to present a series of related happenings,
showing how Richard's character and his subjection
to his flattering favourites brought about ill effects
to the kingdom. No doubt he has not accomplished
this design as successfully as did Marlowe, but the
admission means simply that after all he had not
Marlowe's genius. If the personality of Thomas of
Woodstock l attracted him so strongly that he is
not everywhere himself quite certain whether Rich-
ard or Thomas is his principal figure, yet the fate of
Woodstock is an essential part of the theme the
playwright chose, and the structural defects of the
play do not have their origin in any dramatization
of disconnected episodes, but in the author's in-
ability to withstand the incidental temptations of
his subject. Historical events are rearranged in
order to present an action having definitely a
beginning, a middle, and an end — in other words,
in order to display the process by which there is

1 Gloucester of the Henry VI plays is the prototype. See Keller,

U.S.

INTRODUCTION cxiii

attained a state either of quiescence or stable
equilibrium on the part of conflicting forces. It is,
then, a plot, not merely a survey of a given period,
that the author had in mind, and though at times
he appears hesitant or uncertain in his execution,
such defects should not be unduly emphasized.

The great exception is, of course, Shakespeare,
and it is a commonplace statement enough that
Marlowe was one of the great formative influences in
his development.1 Richard III bears the strongest
marks of having been written on the model furnished
by Marlowe, and the degree to which the interest
was concentrated upon the character of Richard
and the extraordinary superiority which he displays
to the other characters, are a reflection of the method
employed in Tamburlaine. It is, however, a some-
what different point of view in which we may for the
moment consider the matter.

Marlowe's interest, as has already been suggested,
lay in dramatic character, and he endeavoured to
interpret history through the characters of the
persons that, as it seemed to him, made it. The like
is true of Shakespeare. It is indeed because he gives
us vivid and dramatically intelligible characteriza-
tions of historical persons that we talk at all about
Shakespeare's ' interpretation of history/ Does
anyone continue to believe that a profound social
and political philosophy was embodied by Shake-
speare in his chronicle plays ? To say that he

1 The reader will at once perceive that no detailed discussion of
this topic can even be attempted in these pages.

H

cxiv EDWARD II

interpreted history is simply to say that he con-
verted historical abstractions into living human
beings ; he did not anticipate Burke, and he was no
evolutionist before evolution. For him history
was a series of inexplicable catastrophic processes,
except in so far as the motives and the characters of
particular men shed a dim and wavering light over
the turbulent stream of human life. So far, he and
Marlowe were at one.

Nevertheless, a significant difference may be
observed. If Marlowe's interest was in the por-
trayal of character, it was in the portrayal of one
aspect of character that his supreme interest lay.
Not so much the human being as an intellectual or
reasoning entity, but the human being as a centre
of energetic action occupied him chiefly. Not the
intellect and the reason, but the will and the
passions were his preferred objects of contemplation.
Is that quite true of Shakespeare at the outset of
his dramatic career ? In comedy, for example, as in
Love's Labour's Lost, The Two Gentlemen of Verona,
The Comedy of Errors, wit, word-play, ingenuity of
plot, together with beauty of style and brilliance of
fancy, furnish out the piece. In Titus Andronicus we
sup full of horrors, but the drama is merely the
tour de force of a clever youth who does not realize
that he is playing with fire. Compare once more
Gloucester and Tamburlaine. In the latter we see
passionate aspiration, sublime confidence, and ri-
domitable will, but we see nothing of the greit
intellectual powers demanded by his remarkable

INTRODUCTION cxv

career.1 How far would Napoleon's confidence in
his star have carried him, unassisted by his extra-
ordinary intellectual gifts ? It is not Tamburlaine
as a thinking but as a feeling human being that we
have before us. In Richard III, on the contrary, the

r *

intellectual superiority of Richard to the other //
characters is what marks him out as their natural
lord and ruler. May not then the suggestion be
made, though made with all due hesitancy, that
Shakespeare, possibly earlier than would otherwise
have been the case, was led through the influence of
Marlowe to import into his characters the element of
passion ? For when we turn to Richard II, we find
that he combines the two elements that in Richard
III exist mainly in independence of each other.
Gloucester embodies intellectual force, but passionate
feeling finds its expression in the lyrical outbursts of
emotion on the part of Margaret, Elizabeth, and
Gloucester's mother. In Richard II both elements
of character are fused in the same person. Richard
thinks, but he feels as well, and this interpenetration
of thought and feeling is in all of Shakespeare's
later plays, tragedies as well as comedies, one of the
distinctive marks of his genius.

It is an obvious corollary of what has just been
said that Shakespeare arranged his material with
a view to bringing out character, and in so far
as he did so was clearly influenced by Marlowe
in regard to the structure of the plot. -At the

1 The real Tamburlaine owed his success to just those qualities
Marlowe's lacks. See the account of him in Lavisse-Rambaud.

cxvi EDWARD II

same time, certain other forces must be taken into
account.

We must, for instance, make allowance for the
operation of a force which has been already briefly
considered. The nature of the material itself to some
v i extent determines the method of handling it. In
^J the case of Richard III there had grown up in the
course of the preceding century what may be called a
Richard legend. According to this legend Richard
conceived early the design of seizing the crown for
himself, manipulated events with a view to that end,
committed certain murders for that definite purpose,
accomplished his aim, and from the pinnacle of glory
was hurled headlong by the hand of God. In other
words, a certain series of historical facts had in the
course of time acquired in the popular mind some-
thing of that inner sequence and connection which is
implied in the term 'plot/ Whoever dramatized
the story of Richard could not escape presenting it
at least rudely in some such form, as is to be seen
both in the Richardus Tertius and in the old True
Tragedy of Richard III. That neither Dr. Legge
nor the other playwright fully comprehended the
importance of this element in the material both
employed is equally clear, and accordingly they
introduced scenes that had little to do with the
direct advance of the plot, or encumbered their
dialogue with crude summaries of events which
they found it difficult actually to stage. Such faults
Shakespeare of course avoided in the main. There
are passages in Richard III which may be omitted

ft

INTRODUCTION cxvii

without injury to dramatic action or to narrative
continuity, but the total impression produced by the
play, and especially by the first three acts, is that of
reasonably close logical sequence. It was the native
dramatic genius of Shakespeare, educated through
the agency of Marlowe, that achieved this result in
co-operation with the material itself. Perhaps in
association with, and certainly under the influence of
Marlowe, Shakespeare had engaged in the dramatiza-
tion of English history ; he had seen Marlowe, in
Edward //, select and compress the events of eighteen
years into the form of a logically constructed drama ;
and he was dealing with material which had to a
certain extent already acquired the character of a
plot. We should not find it necessary to trace in
detail the further dramatic development of Shake-
speare in order to realize how in the fullness of time
he came to write those superbly constructed plays,
the two parts of Henry IV t de gm'&ws silentium
breviloquio prceferendum puto.

Yet the splendid examples of Marlowe and Shake-
speare failed to bring about any corresponding
structural advancement among chronicle dramatists
at large. The play of Edward III is in the main
simply a dramatized fragment of military narrative.
No particular struggle is exhibited except merely
the physical struggle involved in military conflict.
The last three acts of the play are taken up almost
entirely with a naval battle, the battles of Cressy and
Poitiers, the capture of Calais, and the spectacular
scene in which Edward receives the submission of the

cxviii EDWARD II

kings of France and Scotland. The course of action
is precisely what we have in any two or three acts
of Tamburlaine, selected at random. Moreover, a
part of the first act and the whole of the second are
taken up with the episode of King Edward and the
Countess of Salisbury, which though conducted with
remarkable skill on the part of the poet, is not in any
way a part of the theme that occupies him elsewhere.
Thus the work, structurally considered, takes us
back to the earliest period in the history of the
chronicle play.

Much the same thing, and from the same point of
view, is to be said of a number of so-called biographi-
cal plays that stand on the outskirts of the chronicle
history. In these the source of material is less
likely to be the chronicle itself than a brief biography
or scattered bits of anecdotic material, and the
interest is in the life of the man rather than in the
important incidents with which he was concerned.
Thus The True Chronicle History of the whole Life
and Death of Thomas Lord Cromwell is not based upon
a chronicle but upon Fox's Book of Martyrs. It
contains also a bit of material extracted from Roper's
Life of Sir Thomas More, and is in general nothing but
a string of dramatized anecdotes. Obviously the
important political aspects of the hero's life could
not be put upon the stage by an Elizabethan play-
wright, and consequently the writer was compelled
to restrict himself to a few fag ends of Cromwellian
biography. Thus we are given a scene from Crom-
well's early life in which his aspiring mind foresees his

INTRODUCTION cxix

own greatness, and a scene or two dealing with his
travels on the Continent, in which he manages to
save a nobleman's life, rescue an impoverished
debtor, and receive alms at the hands of a charitable
Florentine merchant. Then he returns to England,
where the penetrating eye of Cardinal Wolsey lights
upon him, and through the intuition of genius
discerns the inner nature of the man. Thus Cromwell
rises to high power, but at the end, after having
exhibited in various ways his piety and his gener-
osity, he falls a victim to the machinations of the
villainous Gardiner. No more closely knit is the
plot of Sir Thomas More, in regard to which we have
excellent means of information as to the way in
which the dramatist was hampered in his work. The
original manuscript still exists, and we are able to
note the criticisms passed both upon the choice of
material and upon the manner of treatment by
the licenser of plays, who struck out mercilessly
whatever might possibly have dangerous political
bearing. It is significant that in the play itself we
are not told why Sir Thomas More was executed.
We are told, to be sure, that he refused to sign
certain articles at the king's behest, but we are not
told what those articles contained, nor what were
the grounds on which Sir Thomas refused to sign
them.1 The writer puts in as much serious history

1 No doubt, however, there were few in the audience who could
not make a shrewd guess at both these points, provided the play
was ever actually put upon the stage, for we do not know that it
was presented. It is, indeed, quite probable that the play was given
up because of the objections of Sir Edmund Tylney.

cxx EDWARD II

as he dares, but is compelled to fill out his play with
anecdotic fragments taken, most of them, from the
various lives of More accessible to him. We need not
dwell on either of these dramas longer, nor need we
consider The Famous History of the Life and Death
of Captain Thomas Stukeley, which likewise did not
employ strictly chronicle material at all, though it
was material that would undoubtedly have been
incorporated in the chronicle had it lain sufficiently
far back in time. The general method of these
biographical plays is precisely that of the Digby
Mary Magdalen, and needs at this point no further
discussion. One other play of this type may, however,
be momentarily touched upon. The True and
Honorable History of the Life of Sir John Oldcastle,
of which we possess only the first part, is better con-
structed than either Cromwell or More, but we
cannot well believe that this result was due to any
higher structural aim on the part of the four men
concerned in its composition. They selected as their
principal subject not the life of Sir John Oldcastle,
but rather the attempt on the part of the Church to
coerce him into conformity with the State religion,
his valiant attempt to escape the clutches of the
clergy, and presumably his ultimate martyrdom.
This theme was very loosely developed, but of its
own nature it afforded a more connected story than
was the case in the other plays, and so the drama
itself is distinctly less fragmentary. Political con-
siderations did not shiver the narrative into so many
bits.

INTRODUCTION cxxi

VIII

The seeds of the decline of the chronicle history
were sown during the period of its florescence.
Primarily must be realized the extraordinary number
of these plays written during the ten years when the
vogue was at its height. If Heywood's statement
is correct,1 and the evidence procurable seems fully
to substantiate it, all of English history, from the
landing of Brute down to the spacious times of great
Elizabeth, had been presented upon the boards of
the London theatres. Some periods were subjected
to repeated dramatizations, and were treated from
all points of view. Henry VIIFs reign furnished the
material of More, Cromwell, When You See Me,
Henry VIII, Cardinal Wolsey 2 (more than once
refashioned). King John's reign is the subject of
The Troublesome Raigne, King John, Robert Earl of
Huntington, King John and Matilda* Look About
You. Of the numerous dramatizations of the
Richard III material it is not necessary to speak
at length.4 There seems to have been a practical
exhaustion of material. Had there been no con-

1 Apology, already quoted, p. liii.

2 Non-extant.

3 Strictly speaking, somewhat later than the period that we are
discussing. Written by Davenport, and published in his Works,
ed. Bullen, 1890. (Old English Plays, New Series III.) Most of the
plays here mentioned have been already referred to.

4 Compare Schelling, Chronicle Play, 77 : "In short we have in
existence or on record a corpus of at least twenty dramas busy with
the various events and persons which the tetralogy of the three
plays on Henry VI. and Richard III. sought to cover."

cxxii EDWARD II

tributory causes, satiety alone would almost account
for the decline in favour of this form of drama.1

Contributory causes, however, there were. The
very facility with which this material could be
handled and the eagerness of the public for it
attracted the poorest playwrights. Jack Straw, The
True Tragedy of Richard III, The Famous Victories
of Henry V, these dramas represent depths as low,
artistically speaking, as any to which our stage has
descended. Unable, doubtless, to make their plays
successful as the result of talent, writers were often
compelled to resort to other means, and to give a
freshness to their much-used subject-matter by
treating it after the manner of other dramatic
fads. But this point has already been sufficiently
discussed.

Foreign influences, moreover, are to be reckoned
with ; not so much perhaps the direct influence of

1 If we look at Henslowe's Diary, we find that between 1594
and 1600 he produced twenty-four or twenty-five chronicle histories
that have not come down to us. Nor can it be thought that this
number will cover all the non-extant plays with which he had to do.
A chronicle history may lie concealed behind a title that gives no
inkling of its true character. If we did not have the play of Look
About You, the title would give us no hint as to the subject-matter,
and the same is to be said of other plays. Furthermore, it is not
certain that the whole of Henslowe's theatrical activities is recorded
in his diary, to say nothing of the fact that the Admiral's Men did
not of course enjoy a monopoly of these plays. Moreover, cf. the
prologue to Heywood's Royal King and Loyal Subject :

Nay, 'tis known

That when our chronicles have barren grown

Of story, we have all invention stretch' d,

Div'd low as to the centre, and then reach'd

Unto the primum mobile above :

Nor 'scaped things intermediate.

INTRODUCTION cxxiii

foreign dramas upon English, though doubtless
something of the sort is to be taken into considera-
tion,1 but rather the widening of the English
intellectual horizon through intercourse with other
nations and contact with other literatures. This
went on with startling rapidity during the latter
part of the sixteenth century, and the response to it
on the part of the drama was direct and immediate.
Foreign subjects, and particularly Italian plots, began
to crowd out those of English and national character.
The drama was becoming, as regards subject-matter,
' Italianate/

Contemporary life, too, demanded its share of
attention, and grew jealous of the public's moment-
ary absorption in the old, forgotten, far-off things,
and battles long ago. If the drama is to hold the
mirror up to nature, too much of its emphasis must
not be laid upon a bygone stage of national life.
At any rate, a new generation of playwrights had
sprung up. Marlowe, Greene, Peele were no longer
names to conjure with, had passed into subjects of
occasional jest. Their successors were men of differ-
ent character, if not more learned, at any rate more
masters of their learning. New modes of expres-
sion became necessary ; the old had served their
time.

Though the chronicle history lent itself not
infrequently to the purposes of satire as well as to
those of the realistic comedy of manners, it did so
with a manifest reluctance. The inconsistencies of

1 See prologue to Heywood's A Challenge for Beauty.

cxxiv EDWARD II

these plays were too glaring, their anachronisms too
gross and palpable, to have enabled them to retain
the favour of those spectators that pretended to any
faculty of taste or judgment. No doubt the aesthetic
standards of the time were neither in great measure
high nor enduring, and were largely an affectation.
Yet, affectation or not, they served the purpose, and
assisted in the decline of the chronicle history.
Your foreign traveller and Italianate Englishman,
your stay-at-home mimic, Italianate at second-hand,
your judicious and your injudicious pedant, your
classicist and your contemner of the unities, though
each based his opposition on different grounds, were
in unison on this point. It was these inchoate
historical plays that Jonson had partly in mind when
writing the prologue to Every Man in his Humour,
when the popularity of the chronicle history was at
its height.1 A similar, even a more contemptuous
attitude is assumed in the induction to the Knight of
the Burning Pestle, composed a decade later. Small
inducement was there for a playwright to attempt
the chronicle history, unless he cared little for the
approval of the learned. Accordingly the men of
talent of the new generation rejected it almost
wholly.2

1 On the assumption that this prologue was written for the first
production of the play.

2 I do not mean, of course, that material drawn from the chroni-
cles was no longer utilized by dramatists. Such plays as Cymbeline,
Bonduca, and even The Mayor of Queenborough, however, are not
chronicle histories, and hence do not come within our field. They
are romantic dramas or historical dramas, or what you will, but not
chronicle histories, and represent a later conception in the drama

INTRODUCTION cxxv

The strife between the Puritans and the stage
forms an element that must not be left out of con-
sideration, though only a brief account of it may
here be given. The first reference to historical plays
as such seems to have occurred in the Play of Plays. 1
In it there was, as Prynne tells us, a defence of
histories on about the same grounds that Heywood
employed in the Apology. " These dramas have,"
said Lodge in substance, " a didactic function, and
instruct the people in the history of the world."
Gosson replied in Plays Confuted in Five Actions,2
that, since these historical plays did not stick to the
truth, they instructed the people in false history
Heywood took up the defence of histories, and was
attacked by one I. G. in A Refutation of the Apology
for Actors. The whole controversy was summed
up by Prynne in the Histriomastix.3

Prynne excepts against ' histories/ though he does
not specify chronicle histories, on the following
grounds : (0) Play-poets mangle, falsify, if not
obscure history with many additional circumstances
and poetical fictions ; they do not therefore explain,

of the time. So slight are their affiliations with that branch of the
drama that they are to be looked upon simply as showing how the
romantic drama occasionally made use of historical material. The
scene in which their action goes on is not properly England, but
' No-Man's Land,' the land of Philaster and of The Maid's Tragedy.
Had they been looked upon at the time as in any way a continuation
of the true historical drama, Ford could not have written the
prologue quoted a few pages below.

1 See above, p. xxxvii.

* 1581-2. Cf. Collier, II, 197.

3 pp. 940-1 ; an earlier reference, 789.

cxxvi EDWARD II

but sophisticate and deform good histories with
many false varnishes and playhouse fooleries. (6)
These histories are more accurately expressed, more
truly learned, in the original authors than in deriva-
tive playhouse pamphlets, which corrupt all circum-
stances that are truly registered in the story, which
are either omitted or altered in the play, (c) Grant
my opponent's argument, then we might just as well
destroy our historical works as so much waste paper,
and rely on plays entirely. (^) Grant the argu-
ment, yet the truth in these histories will be much
sooner forgotten by the spectators than what is
false.

Aside, however, from this special opposition to the
historical play, the general attitude of the Puritans
toward the stage reacted upon that particular form
of the drama. As Puritan opinions among the
people grew in strength, the theatre became less
and less a popular institution. Always opposed to the
stage, the Puritans were stimulated in their opposi-
tion by their contest with the court, which had always
favoured the theatre, and to which the theatre began
more and more to look for aid. From a distinctly
popular institution the stage became in general a
semi-aristocratic one. The party of the court,
however, took no special interest in English history,
and was perhaps the least national of all English
factions. James was a Scotchman and had Scotch
favourites. He was fond of the spectacular and he
set the fashion. It was in his reign that the masque
began to develop elaborately and to have a con-

INTRODUCTION cxxvii

siderable influence upon the stage. In line with
forces of this character, the drama, in so far as it
was not occupied with satirical pictures of contem-
porary life, began to assume that ultra-romantic
tone associated with the names of Beaumont and
Fletcher, and of Ford.

Underneath all lay the decline in national spirit.
Internal dissensions were once more rife. Much as
in the reign of Henry VIII, the country was divided
among Catholics, Puritans, and the large body of
adherents to the State Church. From the point of
view of the stage these dissensions finally ended in the
closing of the theatres, but from a social and political
standpoint they meant infinitely more. What must
have been the character of a time in which Cecil, the
son of Burleigh, could accept pensions alike from
France and Spain ! l What must have been the
character of a period in which Raleigh, as it were
the type of the Elizabethans, was imprisoned,
beheaded, thought to be a Spanish dependent,
when he had indignantly refused the pension
that Cecil accepted only to defraud his new em-
ployers ! 2

All of these influences naturally affected the
chronicle history, for that was a dramatic species
dependent for its popularity upon a nice adjustment
of popular sentiments and ideas, upon the main-
tenance of an exact equilibrium between opposing
social and intellectual forces. To one state of the

1 See Gardiner, I, 215-16.

2 Gardiner's account of Raleigh's trial, I, 117-38.

cxxviii EDWARD II

popular mind it owed its appearance, to another its
decline after a short period of exuberant life. It
flourished, in other words, during a period of
national repose, when one set of disturbing influences
was exhausted, another not yet in full vigour. Like
the ballad, it depended for its development upon
the existence among the people of a certain homo-
geneity of thought and sentiment, upon the cessation
of which it likewise decayed.

Its extinction, however, appears to have been
gradual, and was probably consummated only by
the closing of the theatres in 1642. There seems
to have been a class, doubtless the bourgeoisie and the
'prentices satirized in the Knight of the Burning
Pestle, with whom the chronicle history did not go
entirely out of fashion. The Stationers' Register,
indeed, records publications of dramas of this kind
as late as 1697.

Perhaps the Elizabethans realized that in the
decay of this characteristic form of their drama
they were losing something of value and interest.
At any rate, Ford, in the prologue to Perkin
Warbeck, printed in 1634, makes an appeal for
the revival of English historical tragic writing,
and the passage is worth quoting at length, as it
illustrates admirably the remarks of the last few
pages.

Studies have, of this nature, been of late,
So out of fashion, so unfollowed, that
It is become more justice, to revive
The antic follies of the times, than strive
To countenance wise industry ; no want

INTRODUCTION cxxix

Of art doth render wit, or lame, or scant,

Or slothful, in the purchase of fresh bays ;

But want of truth in them, who give the praise

To their self-love, presuming to out-do

The writer, or (for need) the actors too.

But such the author's silence best befits,

Who bids them be in love with their own wits.

From him, to clearer judgments, we can say

He shows a History, couch'd in a play :

A history of noble mention, known,

Famous, and true ; most noble, 'cause our own ;

Not forged from Italy, from France, from Spain,

But chronicled at home ; as rich in strain

Of brave attempts, as ever fertile rage,

In action, could beget to grace the stage.

We cannot limit scenes, for the whole land

Itself appear'd too narrow to withstand

Competitors for kingdoms ; nor is here

Unnecessary mirth forced, to endear

A multitude : on these two rests the fate

Of worthy expectation, Truth and State.

Here are touched upon many of the causes that
led to the decline of the chronicle history. First,
the rage for the satirical drama of manners, that
revived "the antic follies of the times." Next, the
fashionable fondness for foreign subject-matter,
" forged from Italy, from France, from Spain," the
disdain of homespun English topics. Then, the
pedantic dislike of a drama that " cannot limit
scenes," and that mixes unnecessary mirth with
tragic subject-matter. It is interesting also to note
Ford's appeal to the patriotism of his audience —
" Most noble, 'cause our own," not foreign, but
" chronicled at home." And it will be observed that
he attempts to create an interest in his play by
the old methods of the earliest chronicle history

cxxx

EDWARD II

writers — his play is " known, famous, and true."
In a sense this passage defines the chronicle
history, and accounts for its decline in popular
favour.

The troublesome

raigne and lamentable death of

Edward the second, King of

England : with the tragicall

fall of proud Mortimer :

As it was sundrie times publiquely acted

in the honoitrable citie of London, by the

right honourable the Earle of Pem-

brooke his seruants.
Written by Chri. Marlow Gent.

Imprinted at London for William tones,

dwelling neere Holbourne conduit, at the

signe of the Gunne. 1594.

NOTE ON THE TEXT

THIS edition is printed from the edition of 1594 of Edward II,
and all of the few changes made are mentioned in the foot-
notes, except that as regards punctuation a compromise has
been adopted between the erratic pointing of the original
and the present practice, the intent being merely to make
the text readily intelligible without giving it in this respect
a completely modern aspect. The spelling and capitaliza-
tion of the original are retained, and also the division into
lines except in certain specified cases. The stage directions
are those of the quarto, with such bracketed additions as
seem necessary.
The following texts have been collated :

Quarto (i) 1594 . . i

Quarto (2) 1598 . . 2

Quarto (3) . . 1612 . . 3

Quarto (4) 1622 . . 4

Dodsley 1744 . . D

Dodsley 1780 . . D!

Ancient British Drama . . . . 1810 . . S

Oxberry 1818 .. O

Dodsley 1825 .. D2

Robinson 1826 . . R

Dyce 1850 . . D3

Dyce .. .. .. .. 1858 .. D4

Cunningham 1870 . . C

Wagner 1870 . . W

Keltic 1870 .. K

Fleay 1877 . . F

Bullen 1885 .. B

4 EDWARD II

Ellis . . . . 1887 . . E

Tancock 1887 .. T

Pinkerton . ." 1889 .. P

McLaughlin 1894 . . M

Verity 1896 .. V

Brooke 1910 . . Br

In addition to these I have also with Dr. Brooke's per-
mission given from his edition the readings of the South
Kensington MS. fragment of the first seventy lines, which
he believes to represent an edition of 1593. * This fragment
is marked ' X.'

The variant readings are selected. Most misprints have
been omitted, except when occurring in the quartos. Varia-
tions of spelling have been neglected, and also differences in
punctuation, except in a few cases, where the meaning of
the text was affected. Conjectural readings are omitted
from the footnotes, but a number of them are given among
the explanatory notes at the end of the play. Further-
more, the following classes of variant readings have also
been omitted, namely, such differences as between intreat
and entreat, Penbrooke and Pembroke, offered and off 'red,
murder and murther, stroke and struck, desert and desart,
renown'd, renowned, and renowned (except in a few cases),
Bartley and Berkeley. No collation is given of the stage
directions, except as regards the quartos. Otherwise, this
edition aims to give all important variant readings, but the
editor does not for a moment suppose that no errors have
been committed.

1 Since writing the above I have been able to examine this MS.
for myself.

[DRAMATIS PERSONS

Edward II, later deposed.

Prince Edward, his son, later Edward III.

Kent, brother to Edward II.

Lancaster.

Warwick.

Pembroke.

Arundell.

Leicester.

Mortimer Senior.

Mortimer Junior, his nephew.

Piers Gaveston.

Spencer Senior.

Spencer Junior, his son.

Archbishop of Canterbury, referred to as Bishop of

Canterbury.
Bishop of Winchester.
Bishop of Coventry.
Bishop [of Hereford ?].
Berkeley.
Baldock.

Sir John of Hainault.
Trussel.

Gurney.

Matrevis.

Lightborn.

Rice ap Howell.

Levune.

Abbot.

James.

Beaumont.

6 EDWARD II

Three Poor Men, Horseboy, Champion, Mower, Herald,
Mayor of Bristol, Lords, Monks, Citizens of
Bristol, Messengers, Soldiers, Attendants.

Queen Isabella.

King Edward's Niece, Daughter to Duke of Gloucester,

referred to as Lady.
Ladies.]

The troublesome raigne and lamentable death

of Edward the second, king of England :

with the tragicall fall of proud

Mortimer.

Enter Gauestone reading on a letter that was
brought him from the king.

' My father is deceast ; come, Gaueston,

And share the kingdom with thy deerest friend.'

Ah, words that make me surfet with delight :

What greater blisse can hap to Gaueston

Then Hue and be the fauorit of a king ? 5

Sweete prince, I come ; these, these thy amorous lines

Might haue enforst me to haue swum from France,

And like Leander gaspt vpon the sande,

So thou wouldst smile and take me in thy armes.

The sight of London to my exiled eyes 10

Is as Elizium to a new come soule ;

Not that I loue the citie or the men,

But that it harbors him I hold so deare,

The king, vpon whose bosome let me die

And with the world be still at enmitie. 15

What neede the artick people loue star-light,

To whom the sunne shines both by day and night ?

Farewell base stooping to the lordly peeres !

Heading om. 234. Reading on] reading of X.

5 Then] than passim D— V. This change will not be again noticed.
Only occurrence of than in i, see I. 1592.

6 these, these] these X. 7 swam DOR.
9 thine X 2 — V. 10 mine D2.

14 die] lie S O R D3 D4 C W E T P M. 16 arctic O R—V.

7

8 EDWARD II

My knee shall bowe to none but to the king. A4

As for the multitude, that are but sparkes, 20

Rakt vp in embers of their pouertie,

Tanti : — He fanne first on the winde
That glaunceth at my lips, and flieth away :
But how now, what are these ?

Enter three poore men.

Poore men. Such as desire your worships seruice. 25

Gauest. What canst thou doe ?

1. poore. I can ride.

Gauest. But I haue no horses. — What art thou ?

2. poore. A traueller.

Gauest. Let me see — thou wouldst do well 30

To waite at my trencher, & tell me lies at dinner time ;
And as I like your discoursing, ile haue you. —
And what art thou ?

3. poore. A souldier, that hath seru'd against the Scot.
Gauest. Why, there are hospitals for such as you. 35

I haue no warre ; and therefore, sir, be gone.

Sold. Farewell ; and perish by a souldiers hand,
That wouldst reward them with an hospitall.

Gau. I, I, these wordes of his moue me as much
As if a Goose should play the Porpintine, 40

And dart her plumes, thinking to pierce my brest.
But yet it is no paine to speake men faire ;
Ile flatter these, and make them liue in hope. [Aside.]
You know that I came lately out of France,
And yet I haue not viewd my Lord the king. 45

If I speed well, ile entertaine you all.

Omnes. We thanke your worship.

Gauest. I haue some busines, leaue me to my selfe.

Omnes. We will wait heere about the court. Exeunt.

19 knees 4. 20 As] Its X. that] they D— R C W F P.

21 Rakt] bakt' X. 22 fawn OR— V ; faune Bv. tantum X.
25 your your 2. 28 horse 2-V. 31 time] om. X.

40 would RCBEP V ; porcupine 2-V. 41 dart] eate X.
43 these] them X. 49 We] I X.

EDWARD II 9

Gauest. Do ; — these are not men for me, A5 50

I must haue wanton Poets, pleasant wits,
Musitians, that with touching of a string
May draw the pliant king which way I please :
Musicke and poetrie is his delight ;
Therefore ile haue Italian maskes by night, 55

Sweete speeches, comedies, and pleasing showes,
And in the day, when he shall walke abroad,
Like Siluian Nimphes my pages shall be clad,
My men, like Satyres grazing on the lawnes,
Shall with their Goate feete daunce an antick hay. 60
Sometime a louelie boye in Dians shape,
With haire that gilds the water as it glides,
Crownets of pearle about his naked armes,
And in his sportfull hands an Oliue tree
To hide those parts which men delight to see, 65

Shall bathe him in a spring ; and there, hard by,
One like Actaon, peeping through the groue,
Shall by the angrie goddesse be transformde,
And running in the likenes of an Hart,
By yelping hounds puld downe, and seeme to die. 70
Such things as these best please his maiestie,
My lord. Here comes the king and the nobles
From the parlament, ile stand aside. [Retires.}

Enter the King, Lancaster, Mortimer senior, Mortimer iunior,

Edmund Earle of Kent, Guie Earle of Warwicke, &c.
Edward. Lancaster !
Lancast. My Lorde. 75

54 is] are X D-R C P. 58 Syluan X D-K EPMVBr.

60 GoatesX; an] the 2— V. 61 Sometimes D— R C P.

65 which] as X. The I. is om. by F MT.

70 and] shall D—KE—V.

71-3 12 K place period after maiestie ; 1234 K comma after lord.
D O om. My lord. D1 D2 S My lord here comes ; the. R C W P
By'r lord ! here. D3 D4 F B E T M V Here comes my lord the.
B inserts here after and. M prints as prose. F prints 72-3 as 3 //.
Here comes my lord / The king, etc., / I'll, etc. the nobles] th'
nobles F.

10

EDWARD II

Gauest. That Earle of Lancaster do I abhorre. [Aside.]
Edw. Will you not graunt me this ? — in spight of them A6
He haue my will, and these two Mortimers,
That crosse me thus, shall know I am displeasd. [Aside.]
Mor. se. If you loue vs, my lord, hate Gaueston. So

Gauest. That villaine Mortimer ! ile be his death. [Aside.}
Mor. iu. Mine vnckle heere, this Earle, & I my selfe,
Were sworne to your father at his death,
That he should nere returne into the realme :
And know, my lord, ere I will breake my oath, 85

This sword of mine, that should offend your foes,
Shall sleepe within the scabberd at thy neede ;
And vnderneath thy banners march who will,
For Mortimer will hang his armor vp.
Gauest. Mort. dieu. [Aside.} 90

Edw. Well, Mortimer, ile make thee rue these words.
Beseemes it thee to contradict thy king ?
Frownst thou thereat, aspiring Lancaster,
The sworde shall plane the furrowes of thy browes,
And hew these knees that now are growne so stiff e. 95
I will haue Gaueston, and you shall know
What danger tis to stand against your king.
Gauest. Well doone, Ned. [Aside}

Lan. My lord, why do you thus incense your peeres,

That naturally would loue and honour you 100

But for that base and obscure Gaueston ?
Foure Earldomes haue I besides Lancaster,
Darbie, Salsburie, Lincolne, Leicester :
These will I sell to giue my souldiers paye,
Ere Gaueston shall stay within the realme. 105

Therefore, if he be come, expell him straight.
Edm. Barons and Earls, your pride hath made me mute,
But now ile speake, and to the proofe, I hope :
I do remember, in my fathers dayes, A7

83 unto D — R CP. 4 has un inserted with a pen before to.

93 D—Br ? after Lancaster.

107 D — R CB P assign speeuh io Edw. me mute] men misp. 2.

EDWARD II 11

Lord Percie of the North, being highly mou'd, no

Brau'd Mowberie in presence of the king,

For which, had not his highnes lou'd him well,

He should haue lost his head ; but with his looke

The vndaunted spirit of Percie was appeasd,

And Mowberie and he were reconcild : 115

Yet dare you braue the king vnto his face.

Brother, reuenge it, and let these their heads

Preach vpon poles for trespasse of their tongues.

Warwicke. O, our heads.

Edw. I, yours, and therefore I would wish you graunt. 120

Warw. Bridle thy anger, gentle Mortimer.

Mor. iu. I cannot, nor I will not, I must speake.
Cosin, our hands I hope shall fence our heads,
And strike off his that makes you threaten vs.
Come, vnckle, let vs leaue the brainsick king, 125

And henceforth parle with our naked swords.

Mor. se. Wilshire hath men enough to saue our heads.

Warw. All Warwickshire will loue him for my sake.

Lane. And Northward Gaueston hath many friends.
Adew, my Lord, and either change your minde, 130

Or looke to see the throne where you should sit,
To floate in bloud, and at thy wanton head
The glozing head of thy base minion throwne.
Exeunt Nobiles. [Edward, Kent, Gaveston, remain.]

Edw. I cannot brooke these hautie menaces.
Am I a king and must be ouer rulde ? 135

Brother, displaie my ensignes in the field ;
He bandie with the Barons and the Earles,
And eyther die, or liue with Gaueston.

Gau. I can no longer keepe me from my lord.

in Moubray 34 Z>3 D4 K T M.

114 Th' DD^O—D^KFTM; sprite F. 115 as in in.

126 parlie 2— V. 128 loue] leave D3D^CW P.

129 Gaueston] Lancaster ORD3D^CWKP.

133 s. d. Nobiles] Nobels or Nobles 3— F.

135 Am] And Dl S D2. 138 2— V om. comma.

12

EDWARD II

Edw. What, Gaueston, welcome ! kis not my hand, A8 140
Embrace me, Gaueston, as I do thee.
Why shouldst thou kneele ? Knowest thou not who I am ?
Thy friend, thy selfe, another Gaueston.
Not Hilas was more mourned of Hercules,
Then thou hast beene of me since thy exile. 145

Gau. And since I went from hence, no soule in hell
Hath felt more torment then poore Gaueston.

Edw. I know it ; brother, welcome home my friend.
Now let the treacherous Mortimers conspire,
And that high minded earle of Lancaster. 150

I haue my wish, in that I ioy thy sight,
And sooner shall the sea orewhelme my land,
Then beare the ship that shall transport thee hence :
I heere create thee Lord high Chamberlaine,
Cheefe Secretarie to the state and me, 155

Earle of Cornewall, king and lord of Man.

Gauest. My lord, these titles far exceed my worth.

Kent. Brother, the least of these may well suffice
For one of greater birth then Gaueston.

Edw. Cease, brother, for I cannot brooke these words. 160
Thy woorth, sweet friend, is far aboue my guifts,
Therefore, to equall it, receiue my hart.
If for these dignities thou be enuied,
He giue thee more ; for but to honour thee
Is Edward pleazd with kinglie regiment. 165

Fearst thou thy person ? thou shalt haue a guard :
Wants thou gold ? go to my treasurie :
Wouldst thou be loude and fearde ? receiue my seale,
Saue or condemne, and in our name commaund,
What so thy minde affectes or fancie likes. 170

142 know'st 4 D— V. 1-4 print as 2 //.
144 of] for 2DD1SD2; for of 34 D3D4KM ; by O.
149 treach'rous D D± O D2 R. 152 ouerwhelme 23.

163 envied be O.

167 Want'st DD^SD^R] wantest O D3— V.

1 68 seals CWP.

EDWARD II 13

Gaue. It shall suffice me to enioy your loue, Bx

Which whiles I haue, I thinke my selfe as great
As Ccesar riding in the Romaine streete,
With captiue kings at his triumphant Carre.

Enter the Bishop of Couentrie.

Edw. Whether goes my Lord of Couentrie so fast ? 175
Bish. To celebrate your fathers exequies.

But is that wicked Gaueston returnd ?
Edw. I, priest, and Hues to be reuengd on thee,

That wert the onely cause of his exile.
Gaue. Tis true, and but for reuerence of these robes, 180

Thou shouldst not plod one foote beyond this place.
Bish. I did no more then I was bound to do ;

And, Gaueston, vnlesse thou be reclaimd,

As then I did incense the parlement,

So will I now, and thou shalt back to France. 185

Gaue. Sauing your reuerence, you must pardon me.

[Laying hands on the Bishop.}
Edw. Throwe of his golden miter, rend his stole,

And in the channell christen him a new.
Kent. Ah, brother, lay not violent hands on him,

For heele complaine vnto the sea of Rome. 190

Gaue. Let him complaine vnto the sea of hell,

He be reuengd on him for my exile.
Edw. No, spare his life, but seaze vpon his goods,

Be thou lord bishop, and receiue his rents,

And make him serue thee as thy chaplaine. 195

I giue him thee, here, vse him as thou wilt.
Gaue. He shall to prison, and there die in boults.
Edw. I, to the tower, the fleete, or where thou wilt.
Bish. For this offence be thou accurst of God.
Edw. Whose there ? conueie this priest to the tower. 200
Bish. True, true.
Edw. But in the meane time, Gaueston, away, B2

174 triumphal K. 175 Whi'er F. 189 valiant 5.

200 th' D DI Dz F. 201 Do, do D D1 S D2 R.

14 EDWARD II

And take possession of his house and goods.
Come, follow me, and thou shalt haue my guarde
To see it done, and bring thee safe againe. 205

Gaue. What should a priest do with so faire a house ?
A prison may beseeme his holinesse.

[Exeunt.}

Enter [on one side} both the Mortimers, [on the other} Warwicke,

and Lancaster.
War. Tis true, the Bishop is in the tower,

And goods and body giuen to Gaueston.
Lan. What, will they tyrannize vpon the Church ? 210

Ah, wicked king, accurssed Gaueston,

This ground which is corrupted with their steps,

Shall be their timeles sepulcher, or mine.
Mor. iu. Wei, let that peeuish Frenchma guard him sure :

Vnlesse his brest be sword proofe, he shall die. 215

Mor. se. How now, why droops the earle of Lancaster ?
Mor. iu. Wherefore is Guy of Warwicke discontent ?
Lan. That villaine Gaueston is made an Earle.
Mortim. sen. An Earle !
War. I, and besides, lord Chamberlaine of the realme, 220

And secretary to, and lord of Man.
Mor. se. We may not, nor we will not suffer this.
Mor. iu. Why post we not from hence to leuie men ?
Lan. ' My lord of Cornewall ' now at euery worde,

And happie is the man whom he vouchsafes, 225

For vailing of his bonnet, one good looke.

Thus arme in arme, the king and he dooth marche :

Nay more, the guarde vpon his lordship waites :

And all the court begins to flatter him.
War. Thus leaning on the shoulder of the king, 230

He nods, and scornes, and smiles at those that passe.
Mor. se. Doth no man take exceptions at the slaue ?
Lan. All stomack him, but none dare speake a word. B3

207 may best 34 D±— R CWKBEPV.

208 It is F ; bishop's F; t'rue F p. 117.

EDWARD II 15

Mor. iu. Ah, that bewraies their basenes, Lancaster.

Were all the Earles and Barons of my minde, 235

Weele hale him from the bosome of the king,
And at the court gate hang the pessant vp,
Who, swolne with venome of ambitious pride,
Will be the ruine of the realme and vs.

Enter the Bishop of Canterburie [and an Attendant].

War. Here comes my lord of Canterburies grace. 240

Lan. His countenance bewraies he is displeasd.

Bish. First were his sacred garments rent and torne,
Then laide they violent hands vpon him ; next,
Himselfe imprisoned, and his goods asceasd :
This certifie the Pope ; away, take horsse. 245

[Exit Attendant.]

Lan. My lord, will you take armes against the king ?

Bish. What neede I ? God himselfe is vp in armes,
When violence is offered to the church.

Mor. iu. Then wil you ioine with vs that be his peeres
To banish or behead that Gaueston ? 250

Bish. What els, my lords ? for it concernes me neere ;
The Bishoprick of Couentrie is his.

Enter the Queene.

Mor. iu. Madam, whether walks your maiestie so fast ?

Que. Vnto the forrest, gentle Mortimer,
To Hue in greefe and balefull discontent, 255

For now my lord the king regardes me not,
But dotes upon the loue of Gaueston ;
He claps his cheekes, and hanges about his neck,
Smiles in his face, and whispers in his eares,
And when I come, he frownes, as who should say, 260
Go whether thou wilt, seeing I haue Gaueston.

Mor. se. Is it not straunge, that he is thus bewitcht ?

234 Ah] Ay D O R C P. 236 We'd R— W F— V.

253 whi'er F. 256 O R C B E P V set my lord off by commas.
258 cheek ORCFBTP. 261 whi'er F.

K

16 EDWARD II

Mor. iu. Madam, returne vnto the court againe :
That slie inueigling Frenchman weele exile, B4

Or lose our Hues : and yet, ere that day come, 265

The king shall lose his crowne, for we haue power,
And courage to, to be reuengde at full.

Bish. But yet lift not your swords against the king.

Lan. No, but weele lift Gaueston from hence.

War. And war must be the meanes, or heele stay stil. 270

Queen. Then let him stay, for rather then my lord
Shall be opprest by ciuill mutinies,
I wil endure a melancholic life,
And let him f rollick with his minion.

Bish. My lords, to eaze all this, but heare me speake : 275
We and the rest that are his counsellers
Will meete, and with a generall consent
Confirme his banishment with our handes and scales.

Lan. What we confirme the king will frustrate.

Mor. iu. Then may we lawfully reuolt from him. 280

War. But say, my lord, where shall this meeting bee ?

Bish. At the new temple.

Mor. iu. Content.

[Bish.] And in the meane time ile intreat you all
To crosse to Lambeth, and there stay with me. 285

Lan. Come then, lets away.

Mor. iu. Madam, farewell.

Qu. Farewell, sweet Mortimer, and for my sake
Forbeare to leuie armes against the king.

Mor. iu. I, if words will serue ; if not, I must.

[Exeunt omnes.]

Enter Gaueston and the earle of Kent.

Gau. Edmund the mightie prince of Lancaster, 290

That hath more earldomes then an asse can beare,

268 E V assign to the queen. 269 we will Z>4 — V.

272 by] with 2 — V.

284 12 4 D O Br. om. [Bish.] It is inserted with a pen in 3.
289 Ah D1 D2 ; Ay, [ay,] F.

EDWARD II 17

And both the Mortimers, two goodly men,

With Guie of Warwick, that redoubted knight,

Are gone towards Lambeth ; there let them remaine. B5

Exeunt.

Enter Nobiles. [Including Pembroke.]
Lan. Here is the forme of Gauestons exile : 295

May it please your lordship to subscribe your name.
Bish. Giue me the paper.

[Subscribes, as do the others.}

Lan. Quick, quick, my lorde, I long to write my name.
War. But I long more to see him banisht hence.
Mor. iu. The name of Mortimer shall fright the king, 300
Vnlesse he be declinde from that base pesant.

Enter the King and Gaueston [with Kent.]

Edw. What ? are you mou'd that Gaueston sits heere ?

It is our pleasure, we will haue it so.
Lan. Your grace doth wel to place him by your side,

For no where else the new earle is so safe. 305

Mor. se. What man of noble birth can brooke this sight ?

Quam male conueniunt.

See what a scornfull looke the pesant casts.
Penb. Can kinglie Lions fawne on creeping Ants ?
War. Ignoble vassaile, that, like Phaeton, 310

Aspir'st vnto the guidance of the sunne.
Mor. iu. Their downfall is at hand, their forces downe.

We will not thus be facst and ouerpeerd.
Edw. Lay hands on that traitor Mortimer.
Mor. se. Lay hands on that traitor Gaueston. 315

Kent. Is this the dutie that you owe your king ?
War. We know our duties, let him know his peeres.
Edw. Whether will you beare him ? stay, or ye shall die.

294 toward RF — V ; London CP ; there let them remaine
E V ass. to Kent. 298 1234 print as 2 //., dividing after lorde.
303 and we C B P. 306 W ass. to Y. Mor. 311 Aspirest S.

314 upon W apparently following conj. Collier in D2.

315 upon W ; P ass. to Y. Mor. 318 whi'er F.

18 EDWARD II

Mor. se. We are no traitors, therefore threaten not.
Gau. No, threaten not, my lord, but pay them home. B6 320

Were I a king, —
Mor. iu. Thou villaine, wherfore talkes thou of a king,

That hardly art a gentleman by birth ?
Edw. Were he a peasant, being my minion,

He make the prowdest of you stoope to him. 325

Lan. My lord, you may not thus disparage vs.

Away, I say, with hatefull Gaueston.
Mori. se. And with the earle of Kent that fauors him.

[Attendants remove Gaveston and Kent.]
Edw. Nay, then lay violent hands vpon your king.

Here, Mortimer, sit thou in Edwards throne, 330

Warwicke and Lancaster, weare you my crowne.

Was euer king thus ouer rulde as I ?
Lan. Learne then to rule vs better and the realme.
Mor. iu. What we haue done, our hart bloud shall main-
tame .

War. Think you that we can brooke this vpstart pride ? 335
Edw. Anger and wrathfull furie stops my speech.
Bish. Why are you moou'd ? be patient, my lord,

And see what we your councellers haue done.

[Handing Edward the paper.]
Mor. iu. My lords, now let vs all be resolute,

And either haue our wils, or lose our Hues. 340

Edw. Meete you for this, proud ouer daring peeres ?

Ere my sweet e Gaueston shall part from me,

This He shall fleete vpon the Ocean,

And wander to the vnfrequented Inde.
Bish. You know that I am legate to the Pope ; 345

On your allegeance to the sea of Rome,

Subscribe as we haue done to his exile.
Mor. iu. Curse him, if he refuse, and then may we

322 talk'st D— K B—V 323 That] Thou T.

328 W ass. to Y. Mor. 330 on O R.

334 1234 print as 2 //., dividing after done.

335 upstart [*s] D*EM V. 341 overbearing BE V.

EDWARD II 19

Depose him and elect an other king.

Edw. I, there it goes, but yet I will not yeeld, 350

Curse me, depose me, doe the worst you can.

Lan. Then linger not, my lord, but do it straight. B7

Bish. Remember how the Bishop was abusde :
Either banish him that was the cause thereof,
Or I will presentlie discharge these lords 355

Of dutie and allegeance due to thee.

Edw. It bootes me not to threat, I must speake faire ;
The Legate of the Pope will be obayd. — [Aside.]

My lord, you shalbe Chauncellor of the realme ;
Thou, Lancaster, high admirall of our fleete ; 360

Yong Mortimer and his vnckle shalbe earles ;
And you, lord Warwick, president of the North,
And thou of Wales ; if this content you not,
Make seuerall kingdomes of this monarchie,
And share it equally amongst you all, 365

So I may haue some nooke or corner left,
To frolike with my deerest Gaueston.

Bish. Nothing shall alter vs, wee are resolu'd.

Lan. Come, come, subscribe.

Mor. iu. Why should you loue him, whome the world hates
so ? 370

Edw. Because he loues me more then all the world :
Ah, none but rude and sauage minded men
Would seeke the ruine of my Gaueston.
You that be noble borne should pitie him.

Warwicke. You that are princely borne should shake him

off- 375

For shame, subscribe, and let the lowne depart.
Mor. se. Vrge him, my lord.
Bish. Are you content to banish him the realme ?
Edw. I see I must, and therefore am content.

354 Ei'er F. 355 lord 2. 359 ye 34.

360 our] iheCWFBP.

370 1234 print as 2 //., dividing after him.

374 be] are 34 0 R C P. 377 W ass. to Y. Mor.

20

EDWARD II

In steede of inke, ile write it with my teares. 380

[Subscribes.]

Mor. iu. The king is loue-sick for his minion.

Edw. Tis done, and now, accursed hand, fall off.

Lan. Giue it me, ile haue it published in the streetes. B8

Mor. iu. lie see him presently dispatched away.

Bish. Now is my heart at ease.

Warw. And so is mine. 385

Penb. This will be good newes to the common sort.

Mor. se. Be it or no, he shall not linger here.

Exeunt Nobiles.

Edw. How fast they run to banish him I loue.
They would not stir, were it to do me good.
Why should a king be subiect to a priest ? 390

Proud Rome, that hatchest such imperiall groomes,
For these thy superstitious taperlights,
Wherewith thy antichristian churches blaze,
lie fire thy erased buildings, and enforce
The papall towers to kisse the lowlie ground. 395

With slaughtered priests may Tibers channell swell,
And bankes raisd higher with their sepulchers.
As for the peeres that backe the cleargie thus,
If I be king, not one of them shall Hue.

[Re-]Enter Gaueston.

Gau. My lord, I heare it whispered euery where 400

That I am banishd, and must flie the land.
Edw. Tis true, sweete Gaueston, oh, were it false.

The Legate of the Pope will haue it so.

And thou must hence, or I shall be deposd.

But I will raigne to be reueng'd of them, 405

And therefore, sweete friend, take it patiently.

383 Gi'e't F. 387 s. d. Nobles 3— V.

392 For] With D O R—K P M 395 The] Thy D— R K

396 may] make D O R—W F—Br.

397 raise DD1OD2R; riseSCFP.

402 were it were it 34 Dl S D2. 405 of] on D 0 R .

EDWARD II 21

Liue where thou wilt, ile send thee gould enough ;

And long thou shalt not stay ; or, if thou doost,

Ile come to thee ; my loue shall neare decline.
Gaue. Is all my hope turnd to this hell of greefe ? 410

Edw. Rend not my hart with thy too piercing words :

Thou from this land, I from my selfe am banisht. Cj
Gau. To go from hence greeues not poore Gaueston,

But to forsake you, in whose gratious lookes

The blessednes of Gaueston remaines, 415

For no where else seekes he felicitie.
Edw. And onely this torments my wretched soule,

That, whether I will or no, thou must depart.

Be gouernour of Ireland in my stead,

And there abide till fortune call thee home. 420

Here take my picture, and let me weare thine.

O might I keepe thee heere, as I doe this,

Happie were I, but now most miserable.
Gauest. Tis something to be pitied of a king.
Edw. Thou shalt not hence, ile hide thee, Gaueston. 425
Gau. I shal be found, and then twil greeue me more.
Edw a. Kinde wordes and mutuall talke makes our greefe
greater.

Therefore with dum imbracement let vs part.

Stay, Gaueston, I cannot leaue thee thus.
Gau. For euery looke, my lord drops downe a teare. 430

Seeing I must go, do not renew my sorrow.
Edw a. The time is little that thou hast to stay,

And therefore giue me leaue to looke my fill.

But come, sweete friend, ile beare thee on thy way.
Gau. The peeres will frowne. 435

Edw. I passe not for their anger, come, lets go.

O, that we might as well returne as goe.

Enter Edmund and Queen Isabell.
Qu. Whether goes my lord ?

418 whe'er F. 427 makei^M.

430 lord] love D D± S D2 R Z>4 C W K E P ; comma after lord
ODSFTMV. 434 beate wiisp. 3. 438 Whi'er F.

22 EDWARD II

Edw. Fawne not on me, French strumpet, get thee gone.

Qu. On whom but on my husband should I fawne ?

Gau. On Mortimer, with whom, vngentle Queene, —
I say no more, iudge you the rest, my lord.

Qu. In saying this, thou wrongst me, Gaueston.
1st not enough, that thou corrupts my lord,
And art a bawd to his affections,
But thou must call mine honor thus in question ?

Gau. I meane not so, your grace must pardon me.

Edw. Thou art too familiar with that Mortimer,
And by thy meanes is Gaueston exilde.
But I would wish thee reconcile the lords, 450

Or thou shalt nere be reconcild to me.

Qu. Your highnes knowes it lies not in my power.

Edw. Away then, touch me not ; come, Gaueston.

Qu. Villaine, tis thou that robst me of my lord.

Gau. Madam, tis you that rob me of my lord. 455

Edw. Speake not vnto her, let her droope and pine.

Qu. Wherein, my lord, haue I deserud these words ?
Witnesse the teares that Isabella sheds,
Witnesse this hart, that sighing for thee breakes,
How deare my lord is to poore Isabell. 460

Edw. And witnesse heauen how deere thou art to me.
There weepe, for till my Gaueston be repeald,
Assure thy selfe thou comst not in my sight.

Exeunt Edward and Gaueston.

Qu. O miserable and distressed Queene !
Would, when I left sweet France and was imbarkt, 465
That charming Circes, walking on the waues,
Had chaungd my shape, or at the mariage day
The cup of Hymen had beene full of poyson,
Or with those armes that twind about my neck,
I had beene stifled, and not liued to see 470

The king my lord thus to abandon me.

444 corrupt'st D— V. 448 Th'art F.

455 thou O ; robb'st O ; robs S.

466 Circe D— V. 467 at] that 34 O R C W P.

EDWARD II 23

Like frantick luno will I fill the earth

With gastlie murmure of my sighes and cries, C3

For neuer doted loue on Ganimed,

So much as he on cursed Gaueston. 475

But that will more exasperate his wrath.

I must entreat him, I must speake him faire,

And be a meanes to call home Gaueston.

And yet heele euer dote on Gaueston,

And so am I for euer miserable. 480

[Re-]Enter the Nobles to the Queene.
Lane. Looke where the sister of the king of Fraunce

Sits wringing of her hands, and beats her brest.
Warw. The king I feare hath ill intreated her.
Pen. Hard is the hart that iniures such a saint.
Mor. iu. I know tis long of Gaueston she weepes. 485

Mor. se. Why ? he is gone.

Mor. iu. Madam, how fares your grace ?

Qu. Ah, Mortimer ! now breaks the kings hate forth,

And he confesseth that he loues me not.
Mor. iu. Cry quittance, Madam, then, & loue not him.
Qu. No, rather will I die a thousand deaths, 490

And yet I loue in vaine : heele nere loue me.
Lan. Feare ye not, Madam, now his minions gone,

His wanton humor will be quicklie left.
Qu. O, neuer, Lancaster ! I am inioynde

To sue vnto you all for his repeale ; 495

This wils my lord, and this must I performe,

Or else be banisht from his highnesse presence.
Lan. For his repeale ! Madam, he comes not back,

Vnlesse the sea cast vp his ship wrack body.
War. And to behold so sweete a sight as that, 500

Theres none here but would run his horse to death.
Mor. iu. But, madam, would you haue vs cal him home ?

476-9 om.O. 483 ill-treated D1 — R. 484 iniuries 2 F BE V.

492 you D3. 495 vnto] npon C F B E P V.

499 shipwrackt 234 Dz ; shipwreck'd D— R D4— V.

24 EDWARD II

Qu. I, Mortimer, for till he be restorde,

The angrie king hath banished me the court : C4

And therefore as thou louest and tendrest me, 505

Be thou my aduocate vnto these peeres.
Mor. iu. What, would ye haue me plead for Gaueston ?
Mor. se. Plead for him he that will, I am resolude.
Lan. And so am I, my lord, diswade the Queene.
Qu. O Lancaster, let him diswade the king, 510

For tis against my will he should returne.
War. Then speake not for him, let the pesant go.
Qu. Tis for my selfe I speake, and not for him.
Pen. No speaking will preuaile, and therefore cease.
Mor. iu. Faire Queene, forbeare to angle for the fish, 515

Which, being caught, strikes him that takes it dead :

I meane that vile Torpedo, Gaueston,

That now, I hope, flotes on the Irish seas.
Qu. Sweete Mortimer, sit downe by me a while,

And I will tell thee reasons of such waighte, 520

As thou wilt soone subscribe to his repeale.
Mor. iu. It is impossible, but speake your minde.
Qu. Then thus, — but none shal heare it but our selues.

[She draws Mortimer aside.]
Lane. My Lords, albeit the Queen winne Mortimer,

Will you be resolute and hold with me ? 525

Mor. se. Not I against my nephew.
Pen. Feare not, the queens words cannot alter him.
War. No ? doe but marke how earnestly she pleads.
Lan. And see how coldly his lookes make deniall.
War. She smiles : now for my life his mind is changd. 530
Lane. He rather loose his friendship, I, then graunt.
Mor. iu. Well, of necessitie it must be so. —

My Lords, that I abhorre base Gaueston

I hope your honors make no question,

505 lov'st 4— V; tender'st D— K B—V.

506 vnto] upon C P ; these] the C P. 507 yon 2— V.
508 he om. 234 D O R — V.

526 W ass. to Y. Mor. 531 I] ay D.

EDWARD II 25

And therefore, though I pleade for his repeall, 535

Tis not for his sake, but for our auaile :

Nay, for the realms behoof e and for the kings. C5

Lane. Fie, Mortimer, dishonor not thy selfe.
Can this be true, twas good to banish him ?
And is this true, to call him home againe ? 540

Such reasons make white blacke, and darke night day.

Mor. iu. My Lord of Lancaster, marke the respect.

Lan. In no respect can contraries be true.

Qu. Yet, good my lord, heare what he can alledge.

War. All that he speakes, is nothing, we are resolu'd. 545

Mor. iu. Do you not wish that Gaueston were dead ?

Pen. I would he were.

Mor. iu. Why then, my lord, giue me but leaue to speak.

Mor. se. But, nephew, do not play the sophister.

Mor. iu. This which I vrge, is of a burning zeale 550

To mend the king, and do our countrie good :
Know you not Gaueston hath store of golde,
Which may in Ireland purchase him such friends
As he will front the mightiest of vs all ?
And whereas he shall Hue and be beloude, 555

Tis hard for vs to worke his ouerthrow.

War. Marke you but that, my lord of Lancaster.

Mor. iu. But were he here, detested as he is,
How easilie might some base slaue be subbornd
To greet his lordship with a poniard, 560

And none so much as blame the murtherer,
But rather praise him for that braue attempt,
And in the Chronicle enrowle his name
For purging of the realme of such a plague.

Pen. He saith true. 565

Lan. I, but how chance this was not done before?

Mor. iu. Because, my lords, it was not thought vpon.
Nay more, when he shall know it lies in vs
To banish him, and then to call him home,

545 we're F. 559 eas'ly W C P.

561 murther 34. 565 sayeth F.

26 EDWARD II

Twill make him vaile the topflag of his pride, C6 570
And feare to offend the meanest noble man.

Mor. se. But how if he do not, Nephew ?

Mor. in. Then may we with some colour rise in armes ;
For, howsoeuer we haue borne it out,
Tis treason to be vp against the king. 575

So shall we haue the people of our side,
Which for his fathers sake leane to the king,
But cannot brooke a night growne mushrump,
Such a one as my Lord of Cornewall is,
Should beare vs downe of the nobilitie. 580

And when the commons and the nobles ioyne,
Tis not the king can buckler Gaueston.
Weele pull him from the strongest hould he hath.
My lords, if to performe this I be slack,
Thinke me as base a groome as Gaueston. 585

Lan. On that condition Lancaster will graunt.

War. And so will Penbrooke and I.

Mor. se. And I.

Mor. iu. In this I count me highly gratified,
And Mortimer will rest at your commaund.

Qu. And when this fauour Isabell forgets, 590

Then let her Hue abandond and forlorne.
But see, in happie time, my lord the king,
Hauing brought the Earle of Cornewall on his way,
Is new returnd ; this newes will glad him much,
Yet not so much as me ; I loue him more 595

Then he can Gaueston ; would he lou'd me
But halfe so much : then were I treble blest.

[Re-]Enter king Edward moorning.
Edw. Hees gone, and for his absence thus I moorne.

571 t'offend F.

576 of] on 34DD1SOD2RK; we shall C W F B E P.
578 mushroom DOD2RD^CWK B—V.
587 And so will Penbrooke E V assign to Pern. ; And I E V assign
to War. 593 Ha'ing F. 594 new] news misp. 34.
596 love BE V.

EDWARD II 27

Did neuer sorrow go so neere my heart

As dooth the want of my sweete Gaueston, C7 600

And could my crownes reuenew bring him back,

I would freelie giue it to his enemies,

And thinke I gaind, hauing bought so deare a friend.
Qu. Harke, how he harpes vpon his minion.
Edw. My heart is as an anuill vnto sorrow, 605

Which beates vpon it like the Cyclops hammers,

And with the noise turnes vp my giddie braine,

And makes me frantick for my Gaueston.

Ah, had some bloudlesse furie rose from hell,

And with my kinglie scepter stroke me dead, 610

When I was forst to leaue my Gaueston.
Lan. Diablo, what passions call you these ?
Qu. My gratious lord, I come to bring you newes.
Edw. That you haue parled with your Mortimer.
Qu. That Gaueston, my Lord, shalbe repeald. 615

Edw. Repeald, the newes is too sweet to be true.
Qu. But will you loue me, if you finde it so ?
Edw. If it be so, what will not Edward do ?
Qu. For Gaueston, but not for Isabell.
Edw. For thee, faire Queene, if thou louest Gaueston, 620

He hang a golden tongue about thy neck,

Seeing thou hast pleaded with so good successe.
Qu. No other iewels hang about my neck

Then these, my lord, nor let me haue more wealth

Then I may fetch from this ritch treasurie : 625

O, how a kisse reuiues poore Isabell.
Edw. Once more receiue my hand, and let this be

A second manage twixt thy selfe and me.
Qu. And may it prooue more happie then the first.

My gentle lord, bespeake these nobles faire, 630

That waite attendance for a gratious looke,

And on their knees salute your maiestie.
Edw. Couragious Lancaster, imbrace thy king, C8

602 I'ld F. 603 ha'ing F. 614 parly'd D—RWFE.
620 lov'st D— V. 621 thy] my 34. 625 treasure!)—/?.

28 EDWARD II

And as grosse vapours perish by the sunne,

Euen so let hatred with thy soueraigne[s] smile ; 635

Liue thou with me as my companion.
Lan. This salutation ouerioyes my heart.
Edw. Warwick shalbe my chief est counseller :

These siluer haires will more adorne my court

Then gaudie silkes, or rich imbrotherie. 640

Chide me, sweete Warwick, if I go astray.
War. Slay me, my lord, when I offend your grace.
Edw. In sollemne triumphes and in publike showes

Penbrooke shall beare the sword before the king.
Pen. And with this sword Penbrooke wil fight for you. 645
Edw. But wherefore walkes yong Mortimer aside ?

Be thou commaunder of our royall fleete,

Or, if that loftie office like thee not,

I make thee heere lord Marshall of the realme.
Mor. iu. My lord, ile marshall so your enemies 650

As England shall be quiet, and you safe.
Edw. And as for you, lord Mortimer of Chirke,

Whose great atchiuements in our forrain warre

Deserues no common place, nor meane reward :

Be you the generall of the leuied troopes 655

That now are readie to assaile the Scots.
Mor. se. In this your grace hath highly honoured me,

For with my nature warre doth best agree.
Qu. Now is the king of England riche and strong,

Hauing the loue of his renowned peeres. 660

Edw. I, Isabell, nere was my heart so light.

Clarke of the crowne, direct our warrant forth

For Gaueston to Ireland. Beamont !

[Enter Beaumont.]

flie

As fast as Iris, or loues Mer curie.
Beam. It shalbe done, my gratious Lord. [Exit.] 665

635 E'en F; soueraigne 12. 640 embroidery D— V.

650 so] all 34. 654 Deserve D—F P. 660 renowmed D4 WK.

EDWARD II 29

Edw. Lord Mortimer, we leaue you to your charge. Dx
Now let vs in, and feast it roiallie :
Against our friend the earle of Cornewall comes,
Weele haue a generall tilt and turnament,
And then his mariage shalbe solemnized. 670

For wot you not that I haue made him sure
Vnto our cosin, the earle of Glosters heire ?

Lan. Such newes we heare, my lord.

Edw. That day, if not for him, yet for my sake,

Who in the triumphe will be challenger, 675

Spare for no cost, we will requite your loue.

Warwick. In this, or ought, your highnes shall commaund vs.

Edward. Thankes, gentle Warwick ; come, lets in and reuell.

Exeunt.
Manent Mortimers.

Mor. se. Nephue, I must to Scotland, thou stalest here.
Leaue now to oppose thy selfe against the king. 680
Thou seest by nature he is milde and calme ;
And seeing his minde so dotes on Gaueston,
Let him without controulement haue his will.
The mightiest kings haue had their minions, —
Great Alexander loude Ephestion, 685

The conquering Hercules for Hilas wept,
And for Patroclus sterne A chillis droopt ;
And not kings onelie, but the wisest men :
The Romaine Tullie loued Octauis,

Graue Socrates, wilde Alcibiades. 690

Then let his grace, whose youth is flexible,
And promiseth as much as we can wish,
Freely enioy that vaine, light-headed earle,
For riper yeares will weane him from such toyes.

Mor. iu. Vnckle, his wanton humor greeues not me, 695

671 wote 23 ; wrote 4. 672 th'Earl F. 675Tthe om. 34.

679 stay'st D— £>4 KFTM. 680 t'oppose ROW FEE PV.

686 Hercules] Hector 1234!) / Herc'les D1D^R. [for] did for 4 O
for his D D± S D2 R C B P; wept] weepe 4 O. -¥? 687 r Achilles D— V

689 Octavius 3— Br. ; lov'd DD^O — D^KTPM.; loved (not
loved) SCWFBEV.

30 EDWARD II

But this I scorne, that one so baselie borne D 2

Should by his soueraignes fauour grow so pert,

And riote it with the treasure of the realme,

While souldiers mutinie for want of paie.

He weares a lords reuenewe on his back, 700

And Midas like he iets it in the court,

With base outlandish cullions at his heeles,

Whose proud fantastick liueries make such show

As if that Proteus, god of shapes, appearde.

I haue not seene a dapper iack so briske : 705

He weares a short Italian hooded cloake,

Larded with pearle, and in his tuskan cap

A iewell of more value then the crowne.

Whiles other walke below, the king and he

From out a window laugh at such as we, 710

And flout e our traine, and iest at our attire ;

Vnckle, tis this that makes me impatient.

Mor. se. But, nephew, now you see the king is changd.

Mor. iu. Then so am I, and Hue to do him seruice.

But whiles I haue a sword, a hand, a hart, 715

I will not yeeld to any such vpstart.

You know my minde, come, vnckle, lets away.

Exeunt.

Enter [the younger] Spencer and Balduck.

Bald. Spencer,

Seeing that our Lord th' earle of Glosters dead,
Which of the nobles dost thou meane to serue ? 720

Spen. Not Mortimer, nor any of his side,
Because the king and he are enemies.
Baldock, learne this of me, a factious lord
Shall hardly do himselfe good, much lesse vs,

698 it om. D — R. 703 makes 4.

709 While D S O R—K B- V; others $-KETPM.
711 iest] jet S. 712 that om.CWBEPV.
715 whilst D—RC P. 718-19 1234 print as one /.; the earl
D— K B—V. 720 doest 3.

EDWARD II 31

But he that hath the fauour of a king 725

May with one word aduaunce vs while we Hue.

The liberall earle of Cornewall is the man D 3

On whose good fortune Spencers hope depends.
Bald. What, meane you then to be his follower ?
Spen. No, his companion, for he loues me well, 730

And would have once preferd me to the king.
Bald. But he is banisht, theres small hope of him.
Spen. I, for a while, but, Baldock, marke the end :

A friend of mine told me in secrecie

That hees repeald, and sent for back againe ; 735

And euen now a poast came from the court,

With letters to our ladie from the King,

And as she red, she smild, which makes me thinke

It is about her louer Gaueston.
Bald. Tis like enough, for since he was exild 740

She neither walkes abroad, nor comes in sight.

But I had thought the match had beene broke off,

And that his banishment had changd her minde.
Spen. Our Ladies first loue is not wauering,

My life for thine she will haue Gaueston. 745

Bald. Then hope I by her meanes to be preferd,

Hauing read vnto her since she was a childe.
Spen. Then, Balduck, you must cast the scholler off,

And learne to court it like a Gentleman :

Tis not a black coate and a little band, 750

A Veluet cap'de cloake, fac'st before with Serge,

And smelling to a Nosegay all the day,

Or holding of a napkin in your hand,

Or saying a long grace at a tables end,

Or making lowe legs to a noble man, 755

Or looking downeward, with your eye lids close,

And saying, trulie ant may please your honor,

Can get you any fauour with great men.

You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute,

And now and then stab, as occasion serues. D4 760
728 hopes E.

32

EDWARD II

Bald. Spencer, thou knowest I hate such formall toies,

And vse them but of meere hypocrisie.

Mine old lord, whiles he liude, was so precise

That he would take exceptions at my buttons,

And being like pins heads, blame me for the bignesse, 765

Which made me curate-like in mine attire,

Though inwardly licentious enough,

And apt for any kinde of villanie.

I am none of these common pedants, I,

That cannot speake without propterea quod. 770

Spen. But one of those that saith quandoquidem,

And hath a speciall gift to forme a verbe.
Bald. Leaue of this iesting ; here my lady comes.

Enter the Ladie [King Edward's Niece.}
Lady. The greefe for his exile was not so much

As is the ioy of his returning home. 775

This letter came from my sweete Gaueston.

What needst thou, loue, thus to excuse thy selfe ?

I know thou couldst not come and visit me.

' I will not long be from thee, though I die.'

[Reading.]

This argues the entire loue of my Lord. 780

' When I forsake thee, death seaze on my heart.'

[Reading.]

But rest thee here where Gaueston shall sleepe.

[Puts letter into her bosom]

Now to the letter of my Lord the King :

He wils me to repaire vnto the court,

And meete my Gaueston ; why do I stay, 785

Seeing that he talkes thus of my mariage day ?

Whose there, Balduck ?

See that my coache be readie, I must hence.
Bald. It shall be done, madam. Exit.

761 know'st 4 D — V ; formall om. 34. 762 of] as 4.
763 while D — RCP. 766 my V. 769 pendants i.

782 But rest] I put D ; rest om. 2 ; rest] stay 34 D±— V.

EDWARD II 33

Lad. And meete me at the parke pale present lie. 790

Spencer, stay you and beare me companie,
For I haue ioyfull newes to tell thee of. D6

My lord of Cornewall is a comming ouer,
And will be at the court as soone as we.

Spen. I knew the King would haue him home againe. 795

Lad. If all things sort out, as I hope they will,
Thy seruice, Spencer, shalbe thought vpon.

Spen. I humbly thanke your Ladieship.

Lad. Come, lead the way, I long till I am there.

[Exeunt.}

Enter Edward, the Qiieene, Lancaster, [the younger] Mortimer,

Warwicke, Penbrooke, Kent, attendants.
Edw. The winde is good, I wonder why he stayes ; 800

I feare me he is wrackt vpon the sea.
Queen. Looke, Lancaster, how passionate he is,

And still his minde runs on his minion.
Lan. My Lord, —

Edw. How now, what newes, is Gaueston arriude ? 805
Mor. i. Nothing but Gaueston, what means your grace ?

You haue matters of more waight to thinke vpon,

The King of Fraunce sets foote in Normandie.
Edw. A triflle, weele expell him when we please :

But tell me, Mortimer, whats thy deuise 810

Against the stately triumph we decreed ?
Mor. iu. A homely one, my lord, not worth the telling.
Edw. Prethee let me know it.
Mor. iu. But seeing you are so desirous, thus it is :

A loftie Cedar tree faire flourishing, 815

On whose top-branches Kinglie Eagles pearch,

And by the barke a canker creepes me vp,

And gets vnto the highest bough of all ;

The motto : Aeque tandem.
Edw. And what is yours, my lord of Lancaster ? 820

801 wreck'd D^—R D4—K B—V. 807 You've F.

813 Pray thee 234 D—V. 814 you're F T M. 818 into CF—V.

34 EDWARD II

Lan. My lord, mines more obscure then Mortimers ;

Plinie reports there is a flying Fish

Which all the other fishes deadly hate,

And therefore being pursued, it takes the aire :

No sooner is it vp, but thers a foule

That seaseth it : this fish, my lord, I beare,

The motto this : Vndique mors est.
Edw. Proud Mortimer, vngentle Lancaster,

Is this the loue you beare your soueraigne ?

Is this the fruite your reconcilement beares ? 830

Can you in words make showe of amitie,

And in your shields display your rancorous minds ?

What call you this but priuate libelling

Against the Earle of Cornewall and my brother ?
Qu. Sweete husband, be content, they all loue you. 835

Edw. They loue me not that hate my Gaueston.

I am that Cedar, shake me not too much ;

And you the Eagles : sore ye nere so high,

I haue the gesses that will pull you downe,

And Aeque tandem shall that canker crie 840

Vnto the proudest peere of Britanie :

Though thou comparst him to a flying Fish,

And threatenest death whether he rise or fall,

Tis not the hugest monster of the sea

Nor fowlest Harpie that shall swallow him. 845

Mor. iu. If in his absence thus he fauors him,

What will he do when as he shall be present ?

[Aside to Lancaster.]
Lan. That shall wee see ; looke where his lordship comes.

Enter Gaueston.
Edw. My Gaueston,
Welcome to Tinmouth, welcome to thy friend. 850

822 a om. 2 D. 828 D3— V ass. speech to Kent. 838 ye] you 4
839 grasses misp. i — R; you] ye P. 842 comparest S.
843 threatnest 2—SD2FTM; threaten'st £>3 D4 K.
849-50 1234 print as one I.

EDWARD II 35

Thy absence made me droope, and pine away ;

For as the louers of faire Danae,

When she was lockt vp in a brasen tower,

Desirde her more, and waxt outragious, D7

So did it sure with me : and now thy sight 855

Is sweeter f arre, then was thy parting hence

Bitter and irkesome to my sobbing heart.

Gau. Sweet Lord and King, your speech preuenteth mine,
Yet haue I words left to expresse my ioy :
The sheepeherd nipt with biting winters rage 860

Frolicks not more to see the paynted springe,
Then I doe to behold your Maiestie.

Edw. Will none of you salute my Gaueston ?

Lan. Salute him ? yes : welcome, Lord Chamberlaine !

Mor. iu. Welcome is the good Earle of Cornewall ! 865

War. Welcome, Lord gouernour of the He of man !

Pen. Welcome, maister secret arie !

Edm. Brother, doe you heare them ?

Edw. Stil wil these Earles and Barrons vse me thus ?

Gau. My Lord, I cannot brooke these iniuries. 870

Qu. Aye me, poore soule, when these begin to iarre.

[Aside.]

Edw. Returne it to their throtes, ile be thy warrant.

Gau. Base, leaden Earles that glorie in your birth,
Goe sit at home and eate your tenants beefe,
And come not here to scoffe at Gaueston, 875

Whose mounting thoughts did neuer creepe so low
As to bestow a looke on such as you.

Lan. Yet I disdaine not to doe this for you. [Draws.]

Edw. Treason, treason ! whers the traitor ?

Pen. Heere, here, King ! 880

[Edw.] Conuey hence Gaueston, thaile murder him.

855 sure] fare 4— V. 859 left om. O

867 maiste misp. 2 ; Mas. Sec't'ry F.

871 Aye] AhZ>— RCWP.

880-1 Heere . . . him] Heere, here, King, conuey hence Gaueston,
thaile murder him i— R C P ; £>4 W K E T M V Br. om. King or
employ it in prefix I. 88 1.

36 EDWARD II

Gau. The life of thee shall salue this foule disgrace.
Mor. iu. Villaine, thy life, vnlesse I misse mine aime.

[Wounds Gaveston.]

Qu. Ah, furious Mortimer, what hast thou done ?
Mor. [iu.] No more then I would answere were he slaine. 885

[Exit Gaveston with Attendants.']
Ed. Yes, more then thou canst answer, though he Hue. D8

Deare shall you both abie this riotous deede :

Out of my presence, come not neere the court.
Mor. iu. He not be barde the court for Gaueston.
Lan. Weele haile him by the eares vnto the block. 890

Edw. Looke to your owne heads, his is sure enough.
War. Looke to your owne crowne, if you back him thus.
Edm. Warwicke, these words do ill beseeme thy years.
Edw. Nay, all of them conspire to crosse me thus,

But if I Hue, ile tread upon their heads, 895

That thinke with high lookes thus to tread me down.

Come, Edmund, lets away, and leuie men,

Tis warre that must abate these Barons pride.

Exit the King [with Isabella and Kent].
War. Lets to our castels, for the king is mooude.
Mor. iu. Moou'd may he be, and perish in his wrath. 900
Lan. Cosin, it is no dealing with him now,

He meanes to make vs stoope by force of armes,

And therefore let vs iointlie here protest

To prosecute that Gaueston to the death.
Mor. iu. By heauen, the abiect villaine shall not Hue. 905
War. Ile haue his bloud, or die in seeking it.
Pen. The like oath Penbrooke takes.
Lan. And so doth Lancaster :

Now send our Heralds to dene the King,

And make the people sweare to put him downe. 910

Enter a Poast.
Mor. iu. Letters, from whence ?

887 abide 2— V. 891 owne om. C P ; W transposes to after his.
904 persecute E ; Gauston F.

EDWARD II 37

Messen. From Scotland, my lord.

Lan. Why, how now, cosin, how fares all our friends ?
Mor. iu. My vnckles taken prisoner by the Scots.
La. Weel haue him ransomd, man, be of good cheere.
Mor. They rate his ransome at fiue thousand pound, E! 915

Who should defray the money but the King,

Seeing he is taken prisoner in his warres ?

He to the King.

Lan. Do, cosin, and ile beare thee companie.
War. Meane time my lord of Penbrooke and my selfe 920

Will to Newcastell heere, and gather head.
Mor. iu. About it, then, and we will follow you.
Lan. Be resolute, and full of secrecie.
War. I warrant you.

[Exeunt all but Young Mortimer and Lancaster.]
Mor. iu. Cosin, and if he will not ransome him, 925

Ile thunder such a peale into his eares

As neuer subiect did vnto his King.
Lan. Content, ile beare my part ; holla, whose there ?

[Enter Guard.}

Mor. iu. I, marry, such a garde as this dooth well.
Lan. Lead on the way.

Guard. Whither will your lordships ? 930

Mor. iu. Whither else but to the King ?
Guar. His highnes is disposde to be alone.
Lan. Why, so he may, but we will speake to him.
Guard. You may not in, my lord.
Mor. iu. May we not ?

[Re-enter King Edward and Kent.]
Edw. How now, what noise is this ? Who haue we there ?

935

1st you ?

[Going.]

gi2 fare Dj S £>2 D3— KPM. 915 pounds OK.

925 and] an Z>4 W K. 928 holloa C F P.

930 Whi'er F ; lordship O. 931 Whi'er F; th' F.

934 m'lord F. 935-6 1234 print as 2 II. with division after this.

38 EDWARD II

Mor. Nay, stay, my lord, I come to bring you newes,

Mine vnckles taken prisoner by the Scots.
Edw. Then ransome him.

Lan. Twas in your wars, you should ransome him. 940
Mor. iu. And you shall ransome him, or else—
Edm. What, Mortimer, you will not threaten him ?
Edw. Quiet your self, you shall haue the broad seale

To gather for him thoroughout the realme.
Lan. Your minion Gaueston hath taught you this. 945

Mor. iu. My lord, the familie of the Mortimers E2

Are not so poore, but, would they sell their land,

Would leuie men enough to anger you.

We neuer beg, but vse such praiers as these.

[Striking his sword.]

Edw. Shall I still be haunted thus ? 950

Mor. iu. Nay, now you are heere alone, ile speake my minde.
Lan. And so will I, and then, my lord, farewell.
Mor. The idle triumphes, maskes, lasciuious showes,

And prodigall gifts bestowed on Gaueston,

Haue drawne thy treasure drie, and made thee weake ; 955

The murmuring commons ouerstretched hath.
Lan. Looke for rebellion, looke to be deposde.

Thy garrisons are beaten out of Fraunce,

And, lame and poore, lie groning at the gates ;

The wilde Oneyle, with swarmes of Irish Kernes, 960

Liues vncontroulde within the English pale ;

Vnto the walles of Yorke the Scots made rode,

And, vnresisted, draue away riche spoiles.
Mor. iu. The hautie Dane commands the narrow seas,

While in the harbor ride thy ships vnrigd. 965

Lan. What forraine prince sends thee embassadors ?

938 uncle is D—D2. 940 It was F T.

944 throughout 2—RKETMV.

948 Twould 34-D3— KB— V ; Could D—R.

950 taunted R. 951 you're ORCW FBEPV.

955 treasurie 3407?— K B — V.

956 hath] break D— V. 961 Live DD1S D2.

962 make D — V. 963 draw D — R ; drive D3 — V.

EDWARD II 39

Mor. [iu.] Who loues thee ? but a sort of flatterers.

Lan. Thy gentle Queene, sole sister to Valoys,
Complaines that thou hast left her all forlorne.

Mor. [iu.] Thy court is naked, being bereft of those 970
That makes a king seeme glorious to the world,
I meane the peeres, whom thou shouldst dearly loue.
Libels are cast againe thee in the streete,
Ballads and rimes, made of thy ouerthrow.

Lan. The Northren borderers, seeing the houses burnt, 975
Their wiues and children slaine, run vp and downe,
Cursing the name of thee and Gaueston.

Mor. [iu.] When wert thou in the field with banner spred ?
But once, and then thy souldiers marcht like players,
With garish robes, not armor, and thy selfe, 980

Bedaubd with golde, rode laughing at the rest,
Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest,
Where womens fauors hung like labels downe.

Lan. And thereof came it that the fleering Scots,
To Englands high disgrace, haue made this lig : 985

Maids of England, sore may you moorne

For your lemmons you haue lost, at Bannocks borne,

With a heaue and a ho.
What weeneth the king of England
So soone to haue woone Scotland, 990

With a rombelow.

Mor. [iu.] Wigmore shall flie, to set my vnckle free.

Lan. And when tis gone, our swordes shall purchase more.

If ye be moou'de, reuenge it as you can,

Looke next to see vs with our ensignes spred. 995

Exeunt Nobiles.

971 make Dj S D2— KB— V. 973 against 34 D—R C P.

975 northern Dl — V; brothers misp. D ; the] their 2 — V.

978 banners 4 R C. 980 nor misp. D.

984 therefore 34 E V. 985 ligge O. 987 you've F.

989 weened DOR. 993 gone] done P.

994 ye] you 4 D3 D4 W K P ; as] if 4 O R C P.

40 EDWARD II

Edwa. My swelling hart for very anger breakes.

How oft haue I beene baited by these peeres ?

And dare not be reuengde, for their power is great.

Yet, shall the crowing of these cockerels

Affright a Lion ? Edward, vnfolde thy pawes, 1000

And let their hues bloud slake thy furies hunger :

If I be cruell, and growe tyrannous,

Now let them thanke themselues, and rue too late.
Kent. My lord, I see your loue to Gaueston

Will be the ruine of the realme and you, 1005

For now the wrathfull nobles threaten warres,

And therefore, brother, banish him for euer.
Edw. Art thou an enemie to my Gaueston ?
Kent. I, and it greeues me that I fauoured him. E4
Edw. Traitor, be gone, whine thou with Mortimer. 1010
Kent. So will I, rather then with Gaueston.
Edw. Out of my sight, and trouble me no more.
Kent. No maruell though thou scorne thy noble peeres,

When I thy brother am reiected thus. Exit.

Edw. Away. 1015

Poore Gaueston, that hast no friend but me,

Do what they can, weele hue in Tinmoth here.

And so I walke with him about the walles,

What care I though the Earles be girt vs round ?

Heere comes she thats cause of all these iarres. 1020

Enter the Queene, [Gaueston], Ladies 3 [including the King's

Niece], Baldock, and [the younger] Spencer.
Qu. My lord, tis thought the Earles are vp in armes.
Edw. I, and tis likewise thought you fauour 'em.
Qu. Thus do you still suspect me without cause.
La. Sweet vnckle, speake more kindly to the. queene.

996 for] with 4 O R. 1004 to] for O R C P.

1008 my om. D. 1013 though] that D — R.

1015-16 1234 print as one 1. ; that] thou K ; has C F B E P V.
1020 cometh D— R CWBEPV ; that isD3D^KFT M.
1022 'em] him 1234; them D—RCWFP.

EDWARD II 41

Gait. My lord, dissemble with her, speake her faire. 1025

[Aside.}

Edw. Pardon me, sweet, I forgot my selfe.
Qu. Your pardon is quicklie got of Isabell.
Edw. The yonger Mortimer is growne so braue

That to my face he threatens ciuill warres.
Gau. Why do you not commit him to the tower ? 1030
Edw. I dare not, for the people loue him well.
Gau. Why, then, weele haue him priuilie made away.
Edw. Would Lancaster and he had both carroust

A bowle of poison to each others health.

But let them go, and tell me what are these. I035

Lad. Two of my fathers seruants whilst he liu'de,

Mait please your grace to entertaine them now ?
Edw. Tell me, where wast thou borne ? What is thine

armes ? E5

Bald. My name is Baldock, and my gentrie

I fetcht from Oxford, not from Heraldrie. 1040

Edw. The fitter art thou, Baldock, for my turne.

Waite on me, and ile see thou shalt not want.
Bald. I humblie thanke your maiestie.
Edw. Knowest thou him, Gaueston ?
Gau. I, my lord,

His name is Spencer, he is well alied. IO45

For my sake let him waite vpon your grace.

Scarce shall you finde a man of more desart.
Edw. Then, Spencer, waite vpon me, for his sake

lie grace thee with a higher stile ere long.
Spen. No greater titles happen vnto me 1050

Then to be fauoured of your maiestie.
Edw. Cosin, this day shalbe your mariage feast ;

And, Gaueston, thinke that I loue thee well

To wed thee to our neece, the onely heire

Vnto the Earle of Gloster late deceased. 1055

1026 had forgot ROW FEPV. 1027 pardon's W F.

1038 1234 print as 2 II. 1040 fetch 2— F. 1042 shall B E V.
1044-5 I ... alied 1234 print as one /.

42 EDWARD II

Gau. I know, my lord, many will stomack me ;

But I respect neither their loue nor hate.
Edw. The head-strong Barons shall not limit me ;

He that I list to fauour shall be great.

Come, lets away, and when the mariage ends, 1060

Haue at the rebels, and their complices. Exeunt omnes.

Enter Lancaster, [the younger] Mortimer, Warwick,
Penbrooke, Kent.

Kent. My lords, of loue to this our natiue land,
I come to ioine with you, and leaue the king,
And in your quarrell and the realmes behoofe,
Will be the first that shall aduenture life. 1065

Lan. I feare me you are sent of pollicie
To vndermine vs with a showe of loue. E6

Warw. He is your brother, therefore haue we cause
To cast the worst, and doubt of your reuolt.

Edm. Mine honor shalbe hostage of my truth ; 1070

If that will not suffice, farewell, my lords.

Mor. iu. Stay, Edmund, neuer was Plantagenet
False of his word, and therefore trust we thee.

Pen. But whats the reason you should leaue him now ?

Kent. I haue enformd the Earle of Lancaster. 1075

Lan. And it sufficeth ; now, my lords, know this,
That Gaueston is secretlie arriude,
And here in Tinmoth frollicks with the king ;
Let vs with these our followers scale the walles,
And sodenly surprize them vnawares. 1080

Mor. iu. He giue the onset.

War. And ile follow thee.

Mor. iu. This tottered ensigne of my auncesters,
Which swept the desart shore of that dead sea
Whereof we got the name of Mortimer,
Will I aduaunce vpon this castell walles. 1085

Drums, strike alarum, raise them from their sport,

1070 should be 4. 1082 tattered D S D4 K.

1085 thes Br.; castle's or castle['s] D— V.

EDWARD II 43

And ring aloude the knell of Gaueston.
Lane. None be so bardie as to touche the King,

But neither spare you Gaueston, nor his friends. Exeunt.

Enter [severally] the king and Spencer, to them Gaueston, &c.

Edw. O tell me, Spencer, where is Gaueston ? 1090

Spen. I feare me he is slaine, my gratious lord.

Edw. No, here he comes, now let them spoile and kill.
Flie, flie, my lords, the earles haue got the holde,
Take shipping and away to Scarborough ;
Spencer and I will post away by land. 1095

Gau. O stay, my lord, they will not iniure you. E7

Edw. I will not trust them, Gaueston, away.

Gau. Farewell, my Lord.

Edw. Ladie, farewell.

Lad. Farewell, sweete vnckle, till we meete againe. uoo

Edw. Farewell, sweete Gaueston, and farewell, Neece.

Qu. No farewell to poore Isabell thy Queene ?

Edw. Yes, yes, for Mortimer your louers sake.
Exeunt omnes, manet Isabella.

Qu. Heauens can witnesse I loue none but you.

From my imbracements thus he breakes away. 1105

O that mine armes could close this He about,

That I might pull him to me where I would,

Or that these teares that drissell from mine eyes

Had power to molline his stonie hart,

That when I had him we might neuer part. mo

Enter the Barons alarums.

Lan. I wonder how he scapt.

Mor. iu. Whose this, the Queene ?

Qu. I, Mortimer, the miserable Queene,

Whose pining heart her inward sighes haue blasted,

And body with continuall moorning wasted :

These hands are tir'd, with haling of my lord 1115

1088 to om. 23 F. 1089 Gauston F.

1104 Heaven ORCFBEPV.

44 EDWARD II

From Gaueston, from wicked Gaueston.

And all in vaine, for when I speake him faire,

He turnes away, and smiles vpon his minion.
Mor. iu. Cease to lament, and tell vs wheres the king ?
Qu. What would you with the king, ist him you seek ? 1120
Lan. No, madam, but that cursed Gaueston.

Farre be it from the thought of Lancaster

To offer violence to his soueraigne.

We would but rid the realme of Gaueston :

Tell vs where he remaines, and he shall die. 1125

Qu. Hees gone by water vnto Scarborough ; E8

Pursue him quicklie, and he cannot scape,

The king hath left him, and his traine is small.
War. Forslowe no time, sweet Lancaster, lets march.
Mor. [iu.] How comes it that the king and he is parted? 1130
Qu. That this your armie, going seuerall waies,

Might be of lesser force, and with the power

That he intendeth presentlie to raise,

Be easilie supprest : and therefore be gone.
Mor. [iu.] Heere in the riuer rides a Flemish hoie ; 1135

Lets all aboord, and follow him amaine.
Lan. The wind that bears him hence, wil fil our sailes ;

Come, come, aboord, tis but an houres sailing.
Mor. [iu] Madam, stay you within this castell here.
Qu. No, Mortimer, ile to my lord the king. 1140

Mor. [iu] Nay, rather saile with vs to Scarborough.
Qu. You know the king is so suspitious

As if he heare I haue but talkt with you,

Mine honour will be cald in question,

And therefore, gentle Mortimer, be gone. 1145

Mor. [iu] Madam, I cannot stay to answer you,

But thinke of Mortimer as he deserues.

[Exeunt all but the Queen]
Qu. So well hast thou deseru'de, sweete Mortimer,

As Isabell could Hue with thee for euer.

ii2i curs'd D. 1130 is] are D — R.

1131 this] thus D—KB—V. 1134 and om. 4— V.

EDWARD II 45

In vaine I looke for loue at Edwards hand, 1 150

Whose eyes are fixt on none but Gaueston.

Yet once more ile importune him with praiers ;

If he be straunge and not regarde my wordes,

My sonne and I will ouer into France,

And to the king my brother there complaine n.55

How Gaueston hath robd me of his loue.

But yet I hope my sorrowes will haue end,

And Gaueston this blessed day be slaine. Exit.

Enter Gaueston pursued. F l

Gau. Yet, lustie lords, I haue escapt your handes,
Your threats, your larums, and your hote pursutes, 1160
And though deuorsed from king Edwards eyes,
Yet liueth Pierce of Gaueston vnsurprizd,
Breathing in hope (malgrado all your beards,
That muster rebels thus against your king)
To see his royall soueraigne once againe. 1165

Enter the Nobles.

War. Vpon him, souldiers, take away his weapons.

Mor. [iu.] Thou proud disturber of thy countries peace,
Corrupter of thy king, cause of these broiles,
Base flatterer, yeeld, and were it not for shame,
Shame and dishonour to a souldiers name, 1170

Vpon my weapons point here shouldst thou fall,
And welter in thy goare.

Lan. Monster of men,

That, like the Greekish strumpet, traind to armes
And bloudie warres so many valiant knights,
Looke for no other fortune, wretch, then death. 1175

Kind Edward is not heere to buckler thee.

1152 prayer z—V. 1158 s.d. Exeunt 1234.

1 1 60 alarms DO. 1162 Gauston F.

1163 you misp. 2. 1164 kind misp. D%.

1165 see] these misp. 2. 1172-4 Monster . . . knights 1234

print as 3 //., dividing at strumpet, warres, knights.
1173 traineth S. 1176 Kind] King 2— V.

46 EDWARD II

War. Lancaster, why talkst thou to the slaue ?

Go, souldiers, take him hence, for by my sword,

His head shall off : Gaueston, short warning

Shall serue thy turne : it is our countries cause 1180

That here seuerelie we will execute

Vpon thy person : — hang him at a bough.
Gau. My Lord, —
War. Souldiers, haue him away. —

But for thou wert the fauorit of a King,

Thou shalt haue so much honor at our hands. 1185

Gau. I thanke you all, my lords ; then I perceiue

That heading is one, and hanging is the other, F2

And death is all.

Enter earle of Arundell.
Lan. How now, my lord of Arundell ?
Arun. My lords, king Edward greetes you all by me. 1190
War. Arundell, say your message.
Arun. His maiesty,

Hearing that you had take Gaueston,

Intreateth you by me, yet but he may

See him before he dies, for why, he saies,

And sends you word, he knowes that die he shall ; 1195

And if you gratifie his grace so farre,

He will be mindfull of the curtesie.
Warw. How now ?
Gau. Renowmed Edward, how thy name

Reuiues poore Gaueston.
War. No, it needeth not,

Arundell, we will gratifie the king 1200

In other matters ; he must pardon vs in this.

Souldiers, away with him.

1178-80 1234 print as 4 //., dividing at hence, off, turne, cause.
1179 Gauston F. 1182 at] upon £>D15D2.

1183 lords D— RCWFP. 1187 heading's W F.
1189 m'lord F.

1191-2 His . . . Gaveston 1234 print as one L; that om. C WP,
ta'en W. 1 193 yet but] but that D— R C P.

1198 Renowned 3— RCKEPV. 1 199 Gauston F. 1202 wi'himF.

EDWARD II 47

Gauest. Why, my Lord of VVarwicke,

Will not these delaies beget my hopes ?

I know it, lords, it is this life you aime at, 1205

Yet graunt king Edward this.
Mor. iu. Shalt thou appoint

What we shall graunt ? Souldiers, away with him.

Thus weele gratifie the king,

Weele send his head by thee ; let him bestow

His teares on that, for that is all he gets 1210

Of Gaueston, or else his senselesse trunck.
Lan. Not so, my Lord, least he bestow more cost

In burying him then he hath euer earned.
A run. My lords, it is his maiesties request,

And in the honor of a king he sweares 1215

He will but talke with him and send him backe. F3
War. When, can you tell ? Arundell, no, we wot

He that the care of realme remits

And driues his nobles to these exigents

For Gaueston, will, if he zease him once, 1220

Violate any promise to possesse him.
Arun. Then, if you will not trust his grace in keepe,

My lords, I will be pledge for his returne.
Mor. iu. It is honourable in thee to offer this,

But for we know thou art a noble gentleman, 1225

We will not wrong thee so

To make away a true man for a theefe.
Gaue. How meanst thou, Mortimer ? that is ouer base.
Mor. Away, base groome, robber of kings renowme.

1204 Will these delays beget me any hopes ? D — R / will now
these short D3 D4 ; will not [that] these F. Period at end F.

1206-7 shalt . . . him 1234 print as 2 complete II. , dividing at
graunt.

1208 we will C WPF; Thus [far] F.

1212 lords D1SD.2RCWF— V. 1215 in] on D— D3CP.

1218 that hath 34; Realme-remits 34 ; of his D—KB— V; [kingly]
realm F. 1220 seaze 23 ; sees CWETP M V ; seize rest.

1222 in keepe om. D. 1224 'Tis D3 — V.

1228 meanest D— R; that] this D S—RCFP; that's W.

1229 renowne 2 — V.
M

48 EDWARD II

Question with thy companions and thy mates. 1230

Pen. My lord Mortimer, and you, my lords, each one,

To gratifie the kings request therein,

Touching the sending of this Gaueston,

Because his maiestie so earnestlie

Desires to see the man before his death, 1235

I will vpon mine honor vndertake

To carrie him, and bring him back againe,

Prouided this, that you, my lord of Arundell,

Will ioyne with me.
War. Penbrooke, what wilt thou do ?

Cause yet more bloodshed ? is it not enough 1240

That we haue taken him, but must we now

Leaue him on had-Iwist, and let him go ?
Pen. My lords, I will not ouer wooe your honors,

But if you dare trust Penbrooke with the prisoner,

Vpon mine oath I will returne him back. 1245

Arun. My lord of Lancaster, what say you in this ?
Lan. Why I say, let him go on Penbrookes word.
Pen. And you, lord Mortimer ? F4

Mor. iu. How say you, my lord of Warwick ?
War. Nay, do your pleasures, 1250

I know how twill prooue.
Pen. Then giue him me.

Gau. Sweete soueraigne, yet I come

To see thee ere I die.
Warw. Yet not, perhaps,

If Warwickes wit and policie preuaile. [Aside.]

Mor. iu. My lord of Penbrooke, we deliuer him you ; 1255

Returne him on your honor ; — sound, away. Exeunt.

1230 thy mates] mates 234.1)3— V. 1231 M'lord F.

1236 my 34. 1238 m'lord F. 1240 it is DO.

1245 my DD^D^R. 1246 M'Lord F.

1253 Not yet D— RCKP.

1255 deli'er F ; him to O R C P.

1256 s.d. Arundell] Mat. i— R. As Mat. or Matre or Matreuis
occurs regularly from this point on for Arundell in text and directions,
it will not be noticed again.

EDWARD II 49

Manent Penbrooke, Arundell, Gauest. & Penbrookes men,
foure souldiers.

Pen. My Lord, you shall go with me ;

My house is not farre hence, out of the way

A little, but our men shall go along.

We that haue pretty wenches to our wiues, 1260

Sir, must not come so neare and balke their lips.

Arun. Tis verie kindlie spoke, my lord of Penbrooke ;
Your honor hath an adamant of power
To drawe a prince.

Pen. So, my lord ; — come hether, lames : 1265

I do commit this Gaueston to thee,
Be thou this night his keeper ; in the morning
We will discharge thee of thy charge ; be gon.

Gau. Vnhappie Gaueston, whether goest thou now ?

Exit cum seruis Pen.

Horseboy. My lord, weele quicklie be at Cobham. 1270

Exeunt ambo.

Enter Gaueston moorning, and the earle of Penbrookes men.
Gaue. O treacherous Warwicke, thus to wrong thy friend !
lames. I see it is your life these armes pursue. F5

Gau. Weaponles must I fall, and die in bands.

O must this day be period of my life !

Center of all my blisse ! and yee be men, Z275

Speede to the king.

Enter Warwicke and his companie.
War. My lord of Penbrookes men,

Striue you no longer, I will haue that Gaueston.
lam. Your lordship doth dishonor to your selfe,

And wrong our lord, your honorable friend.
War. No, lames, it is my countries cause I follow. 1280

Goe, take the villaine, soldiers ; come away,

1257 M'Lord F ; Lord [of Arundell] C W F B E P.

1261 and] to 2—V. 1265 m'lord F.

1269 whi'er F; go'st D^KT M. 1275 all om. 34 ; an D3 — V.

1277 longer] more D— R C P. 1278 does B E V.

50 EDWARD II

Weel make quick worke : — comend me to your maister,
My friend, and tell him that I watcht it well. —
Come, let thy shadow parley with king Edward.
Gau. Treacherous earle, shall I not see the king ? 1285
War. The king of heauen perhaps, no other king.
Away !
Exeunt Warwike and his men, with Gauest. Manet lames

cum cceteris.

Come, fellowes, it booted not for vs to striue.
We will in hast go certifie our Lord. Exeunt.

Enter king Edward and [the younger} Spencer, [Baldock],
with Drummes and Fifes.

Edw. I long to heare an answer from the Barons

Touching my friend, my deerest Gaueston. 1290

Ah, Spencer, not the riches of my realme
Can ransome him ; ah, he is markt to die.
I know the malice of the yonger Mortimer ;
Warwick I know is roughe, and Lancaster
Inexorable, and I shall neuer see 1295

My louely Pierce, my Gaueston againe.
The Barons ouerbeare me with their pride.

Spencer. Were I king Edward, Englands soueraigne,
Sonne to the louelie Elenor of Spaine, F6

Great Edward Longshankes issue, would I beare 1300
These braues, this rage, and suffer vncontrowld
These Barons thus to beard me in my land,
In mine owne realme ? my lord, pardon my speeche,
Did you retaine your fathers magnanimitie,
Did you regard the honor of your name, 1305

You would not suffer thus your maiestie
Be count erbuft of your nobilitie.
Strike off their heads, and let them preach on poles.

1285 not I 2— SD3D^KFTM. 1287 s.d. Manent 234.
1288 't F; booteth 3— R. 1296 Pierce, my] Pierce of 2— V.

1300 Edwards misp. 2. 1308 perch D.

EDWARD II 51

No doubt, such lessons they will teach the rest,

As by their preachments they will profit much, 1310

And learne obedience to their lawfull king.

Edw. Yea, gentle Spencer, we haue beene too milde,
Too kinde to them ; but now haue drawne our sword ;
And if they send me not my Gaueston,
Weele steele it on their crest, and powle their tops. 1315

Bald. This haught resolue becomes your maiestie,
Not to be tied to their affection,
As though your highnes were a schoole boy still,
And must be awde and gouernd like a child.

Enter Hugh Spencer, an old man, father to the yong Spencer

with his trunchion, and soldiers.
Spen. pa. Long Hue my soueraigne, the noble Edward, 1320

In peace triumphant, fortunate in warres.
Edw. Welcome, old man, comst thou in Edwards aide ?

Then tell thy prince, of whence, and what thou art.
Spen. pa. Loe, with a band of bowmen and of pikes,

Browne bils, and targetiers, 400 strong, 1325

Sworne to defend king Edwards royall right,

I come in person to your maiestie,

Spencer, the father of Hugh Spencer there,

Bound to your highnes euerlastinglie, F7

For fauors done in him vnto vs all. *33°

Edw. Thy father, Spencer ?
Spen. filius. True, and it like your grace,

That powres, in lieu of all your goodnes showne,

His life, my lord, before your princely feete.
Edw. Welcome ten thousand times, old man, againe.

Spencer, this loue, this kindnes to thy king, T335

Argues thy noble minde and disposition.

Spencer, I heere create thee earle of Wilshire,

1309-10 they . . . preachments om. O.

1315 crest[s] D^K; pole F. 1316 haught] high DO.

1317 You ought not D D1S D2. 1323 thy] the 2— R K.

1330 favour 2— V. 1331 an D3— KB—V; an't F.

52

EDWARD II

And daily will enrich thee with our fauour,
That as the sun-shine shall reflect ore thee.
Beside, the more to manifest our loue, 1340

Because we heare Lord Bruse dooth sell his land,
And that the Mortimers are in hand withall,
Thou shalt haue crownes of vs, t'outbid the Barons ;
And, Spenser, spare them not, but lay it on.
Souldiers, a largis, and thrice welcome all. 1345

Spen. Ifilius.] My lord, here comes the Queene.

Enter the Queene and her sonne, and Levune a Frenchman.

Edw. Madam, what newes ?

Qu. Newes of dishonor, lord, and discontent.
Our friend Levune, faithfull and full of trust,
Informeth vs, by letters and by words,
That lord Valoyes our brother, king of Fraunce, 1350
Because your highnesse hath beene slack in homage,
Hath seazed Normandie into his hands.
These be the letters, this the messenger.

Edw. Welcome, Levune ; tush, Sib, if this be all,

Valoys and I will soone be friends againe. 1355

But to my Gaueston : shall I neuer see,

Neuer behold thee now ? — Madam, in this matter,

We will employ you and your little sonne ; F8

You shall go parley with the king of Fraunce.

Boye, see you beare you brauelie to the king, 1360

And do your message with a maiestie.

Prin. Commit not to my youth things of more waight
Then fits a prince so yong as I to beare,
And feare not, lord and father, heauens great beames

1340 Besides D — RCP. 1343 to 34.

1344 but om. 2— £>4 KBETMV; but] no W.

1345 large misp. O. 1346 cornea.

1346 s.d. Levune] Lewne, Levvne, Lewen 1234 here and in rest of
play. The point will not again be noticed.

1350 lord om.D—R. 1356 Gauston F.

1357 now] more D— R CF P.

1363 Then] That misp.CP ; fits] suits OR.

EDWARD II 53

On Atlas shoulder shall not lie more safe 1365

Then shall your charge committed to my trust.

Qu. A, boye, this towardnes makes thy mother feare .
Thou art not markt to many daies on earth.

Edw. Madam, we will that you with speed be shipt,
And this our sonne ; Levune shall follow you I37°

With all the hast we can dispatch him hence.
Choose of our lords to beare you companie,
And go in peace ; leaue vs in warres at home.

Qu. Vnnatural wars, where subiects braue their king,
God end them once : my lord, I take my leaue 1375
To make my preparation for Fraunce.

Enter Lord Arundell.

Edw. What, lord /^.rundell, dost thou come alone ?

Arun. Yea, my g£>od lord, for Gaueston is dead.

Edw. Ah, traitors, haue they put my friend to death ?
Tell me, Arundell, died he ere thou camst, 1380

Or didst thou see my friend to take his death ?

Arun. Neither, my lord, for as he was surprizd,
Begirt with weapons, and with enemies round,
I did your highnes message to them all,
Demanding him of them, entreating rather, 1385

And said, vpon the honour of my name,
Thai I would vndertake to carrie him
Vnto your highnes, and to bring him back.

Edw. And tell me, would the rebels denie me that ?

Spen. [filius]. Proud recreants. Gx

Edw. Yea, Spencer, traitors all. 1390

Arun. I found them at the first inexorable :

The earle of Warwick would not bide the hearing,
Mortimer hardly, Penbrooke and Lancaster
Spake least ; and when they flatly had denyed,
Refusing to receiue me pledge for him, J395

The earle of Penbrooke mildlie thus bespake :

1378 Yes 34. 1380 camest5. 1391 the om. ORCP.

1394 Speake 23. 1395 me] my 4.

54 EDWARD II

' My lords, because our soueraigne sends for him,

And promiseth he shall be safe returnd,

I will this vndertake, to haue him hence,

And see him redeliuered to your hands/ 1400

Edw. Well, and how fortunes that he came not ?

Spen. [filius]. Some treason, or some villanie was cause.

Arun. The earle of Warwick seazde him on his way ;
For, being deliuered unto Penbrookes men,
Their lord rode home, thinking his prisoner safe ; 1405
But ere he came, Warwick in ambush laie,
And bare him to his death, and in a trenche
Strake off his head, and marcht vnto the campe.

Spen. [filius]. A bloudie part, flatly against law of armes.

Edw. O, shall I speake, or shall I sigh and die ! 1410

Spen. [filius]. My lord, referre your vengeance to the sword,
Vpon these Barons, Harten vp your men.
Let them not vnreuengd murther your friends.
Aduaunce your standard, Edward, in the field,
And marche to fire them from their starting holes. 1415

Edward kneeles, and saith.
By earth, the common mother of vs all,
By heauen, and all the moouing orbes thereof,
By this right hand, and by my fathers sword,
And all the honors longing to my crowne,
I will haue heads and liues for him as many 1420

As I haue manors, castels, townes, and towers. G2
Tretcherous Warwicke, traiterous Mortimer :
If I be Englands king, in lakes of gore
Your headles trunkes, your bodies will I traile,
That you may drinke your fill, and quaffe in bloud. 1425
And staine my roiall standard with the same,
That so my bloudie colours may suggest
Remembrance of reuenge immortallie

1399 this om.D. 1401 fortunes it D3 D4 C W B E P ; not then F.

1402 the cause D— R CFBEPV.

1408 stroke 34; struck/)— R K. 1409 'gainst 4— F.

1419 honour W.

EDWARD II 55

On your accursed traiterous progenie,

You villaines that haue slaine my Gaueston. 1430

And in this place of honor and of trust,

Spencer, sweet Spencer, I adopt thee heere,

And meerely of our loue we do create thee

Earle of Gloster, and lord Chamberlaine,

Despite of times, despite of enemies. 1435

Spen. [filius]. My lord, here is a messenger from the Barons

Desires accesse vnto your maiestie.
Edw. Admit him neere.

Enter the Herald from the Barons, with his coate of armes.

Messen. Long Hue king Edward, Englands lawful lord.

Edw. So wish not they, I wis, that sent thee hither ; 1440
Thou comst from Mortimer and his complices ;
A ranker route of rebels neuer was.
Well, say thy message.

Messen. The Barons vp in armes by me salute
Your highnes with long life and happines, 1445

And bid me say as plainer to your grace,
That if, without effusion of bloud,
You will this greefe haue ease and remedie,
That from your princely person you remooue
This Spencer, as a putrifying branche I45°

That deads the royall vine, whose golden leaues
Empale your princelie head, your diadem, G8

Whose brightnes such pernitious vpstarts dim,
Say they, and louinglie aduise your grace
To cherish vertue and nobilitie, 1455

And haue old seruitors in high esteeme,
And shake off smooth dissembling flatterers ;
This graunted, they, their honors, and their Hues,
Are to your highnesse vowd and consecrate.

1431 this] his C JF B T M P. 1433 out of OR. 1435 time O R.

1436 heres is 12 ; heers 34 D O R D^—KEP V.

1441 comest 5 / accomplices D— R K. 1442 roote 23 D—D3

1444 arm O. 1448 this greefe] of this 4 O.

1451 leave 2 (B.M., but BY says Bodleian copy leaues).

56

EDWARD II

Spen. [filius]. A, traitors, will they still display their pride ?

1460

Edw. Away, tarrie no answer, but be gon.
Rebels, will they appoint their soueraigne
His sports, his pleasures, and his companie ?
Yet, ere thou go, see how I do deuorce Embrace

Spencer from me ; now get thee to thy lords, Spencer. 1465
And tell them I will come to chastise them
For murthering Gaueston ; hie thee, get thee gone.
Edward with fire and sword followes at thy heeles.

[Exit Herald.}

My lord, perceiue you how these rebels swell ?
Souldiers, good harts ; defend your soueraignes right, 1470
For now, euen now, we marche to make them stoope.
Away.

Exeunt.
Alarums, excursions, a great fight, and a retreate.

Enter the king, Spencer the father, Spencer the sonne, [Baldock]
and the noblemen of the kings side.

Edw. Why do we sound retreat ? vpon them, lords.
This day I shall powre vengeance with my sword
On those proud rebels that are vp in armes, *475

And do confront and count ermaund their king.

Spen. son. I doubt it not, my lord, right will preuaile.

Spen. fa. Tis not amisse, my liege, for eyther part
To breathe a while ; our men, with sweat and dust
All chockt well neare, begin to faint for heate, 1480
And this retire refresheth horse and man. G4

Spen. son. Heere come the rebels.

Enter the Barons, [the younger] Mortimer, Lancaster, Warwick,

Penbrooke, cum cceteris.

Mor. [iu.] Looke, Lancaster, yonder is Edward
Among his flatterers.

1469 lords D3— WFBEP. 1471 e'en F. 1473 my lords D.
1483 W F ass. to E. Mor ; yonder'sD— R. 1484 'MongD— R.

EDWARD II 57

Lan. And there let him bee,

'Till hee pay deerely for their companie. 1485

War. And shall, or Warwicks sword shal smite in vaine.
Edw. What, rebels, do you shrinke, and sound retreat ?
Mor. iu. No, Edward, no ; thy flatterers faint and flie.
Lan. Th'ad best betimes forsake them and their trains,

For theile betray thee, traitors as they are. 1490

Spen. so. Traitor on thy face, rebellious Lancaster.
Pen. Away, base vpstart, brau'st thou nobles thus ?
Spen. fa. A noble attempt, and honourable deed,

Is it not, trowe ye, to assemble aide,

And leuie armes against your lawfull king ? 1495

Edw. For which ere long their heads shall satisfie,

T appeaze the wrath of their offended king.
Mor. iu. Then, Edward, thou wilt fight it to the last,

And rather bathe thy sword in subiects bloud

Then banish that pernicious companie ? 1500

Edw. I, traitors all, rather then thus be braude,

Make Englands ciuill townes huge heapes of stones,

And plowes to go about our pallace gates.
War. A desperate and vnnaturall resolution.

Alarum to the fight, Saint George for England 1505

And the Barons right.
Edw. S. George for England and king Edwards right.

[Exeunt fighting.]

Enter Edward, with the Barons captiues.
Edw. Now, lustie lords, now not by chance of warre,
But iustice of the quarrell and the cause,
Vaild is your pride ; me thinkes you hang the heads,

G5 1510
But weele aduance them, traitors ; now tis time

1483-5 Looke . . . companie 1234 print as 2 //., dividing after
flatterers. 1489 They'd R—K B—V; them] thee i— V.

1490 bewray D2. 1491 on] in 5.

1492 bravest SCFBEPV. 1494 It is 2.

1497 To D— D2CWBETMV. 1498 will 2.
1508 now om. OR; the chance O R.

58 EDWARD II

To be auengd on you for all your braues,

And for the murther of my deerest friend,

To whome right well you knew our soule was knit,

Good Pierce of Gaueston, my sweet fauoret,

A, rebels, recreants, you made him away.

Edm. Brother, in regard of thee and of thy land
Did they remooue that flatterer from thy throne.

Edw. So, sir, you haue spoke ; away, auoid our presence.

[Exit Kent.}

Accursed wretches, wast in regard of vs, 1520

When we had sent our messenger to request
He might be spared to come to speake with vs,
And Penbrooke vndertooke for his returne,
That thou, proud Warwicke, watcht the prisoner,
Poore Pierce, and headed him against la we of armes ? 1525
For which thy head shall ouer looke the rest
As much as thou in rage out wentst the rest.

War. Tyrant, I scorne thy threats and menaces ;
Tis but temporall that thou canst inflict.

Lan. The worst is death, and better die to Hue, *530

Then Hue in infamie vnder such a king.

Edw. Away with them, my lord of Winchester,
These lustie leaders, Warwicke and Lancaster,
I charge you roundly, off with both their heads.
Away. 1535

War. Farewell, vaine worlde.

Lan. Sweete Mortimer, farewell.

Mor. iu. England, vnkinde to thy nobilitie,

Grone for this greefe, behold how thou art maimed.

Edw. Go, take that haughtie Mortimer to the tower,
There see him safe bestowed, and for the rest, 1540

1515 PiercyZ); GaustonF. 1517 Bro'er F. 1519 y'have F.

1520 Accurs'd D D± O D2 ; wretch' F.

1521 messengers 34 D1OD2R. 1525 'gainst 4— F.
1527 in rage om. OR. 1529 It is D — V.

1530 to] than DD1SD2.

1531 Then] To DD1SDZ. I534~5 *234 print as one /.

EDWARD II 59

Do speedie execution on them all.
Be gon.

Mor. iu. What, Mortimer ? can ragged stonie walles
Immure thy vertue that aspires to heauen ? G6

No, Edward, Englands scourge, it may not be ; *545

Mortimers hope surmounts his fortune farre.

Edw. Sound drums and trumpets ; marche with me, my

friends.
Edward this day hath crownd him king a new.

Exit [with prisoners and Attendants].
Manent Spencer filius, Levune 6- Baldock.

Spen. Levune, the trust that we repose in thee

Begets the quiet of king Edwards land ; 1550

Therefore be gon in hast, and with aduice

Bestowe that treasure on the lords of Fraunce,

That therewith all enchaunted, like the guarde

That suffered loue to passe in showers of golde

To Danae, all aide may be denied !555

To Isabell the Queene, that now in France

Makes friends, to crosse the seas with her yong sonne,

And step into his fathers regiment.

Lev. Thats it, these Barons and the subtill Queene
Long leveld at.

Bald. Yea, but, Levune, thou seest 1560

These Barons lay their heads on blocks together ;
What they intend, the hangman frustrates cleane.

Lev. Haue you no doubts, my lords, ile clap so close
Among the lords of France with Englands golde
That Isabell shall make her plaints in vaine, 1565

And Fraunce shall be obdurat with her teares.

Spen. Then make for Fraunce amaine ; Levune, away.
Proclaime king Edwards warres and victories.

Exeunt omnes.

1541-2 1234 print as one I. 1546 hopes D2 ; his ] hie 34.
1549 Lecune R. This is R's spelling henceforward; cf. on I. 1346
above. 1552 pleasure misp. B. 1553 therewithal! 4.

1558 unto S. 1559 it] is 3. 1560 leuied i— R.

1563 doubte 2 — V ; claps close 1234; creep close O.

60 EDWARD II

Enter Edmund.
Edm. Faire blowes the winde for Fraunce ; bio we, gentle

gale,

Till Edmund be arriude for Englands good. 1570

Nature, yeeld to my countries cause in this. G7

A brother, no, a butcher of thy friends,
Proud Edward, doost thou banish me thy presence ?
But ile to Fraunce, and cheere the wronged Queene,
And certifie what Edwards loosenes is. 1575

Vnnaturall king, to slaughter noble men
And cherish flatterers. Mortimer, I stay
Thy sweet escape ; stand gratious, gloomie night,
To his deuice.

Enter Mortimer disguised.
Mor. iu. Holla, who walketh there ?

1st you, my lord ?
Edm. Mortimer, tis I. 1580

But hath thy potion wrought so happilie ?
Mor. iu. It hath, my lord ; the warders, all a sleepe,

I thanke them, gaue me leaue to passe in peace ;

But hath your grace got shipping vnto Fraunce ?
Edm. Feare it not. 1585

Exeunt.

Enter the Queene and her sonne.

Qu. A, boye, our friends do faile vs all in Fraunce :
The lords are cruell, and the king vnkinde.
What shall we doe ?

Prince. Madam, returne to England,

And please my father well ; and then a Fig
For all my vnckles frienship here in Fraunce. 1590

I warrant you, ile winne his highnes quicklie ;
A loues me better than a thousand Spencers.

1579 Holloa CF. 1578-81 Thy . . . happilie 1234 print as
2 II., dividing after device, lord.

1581 thy] my/?. 1584 into 4. 1585 Fear't F.
1588 doe] goe 3. 1592 A] He D— RCWP.

EDWARD II 61

Qu. A, boye, thou art deceiude at least in this,
To thinke that we can yet be tun'd together.
No, no, we iarre too farre ; vnkinde Valoys, 1595

Vnhappie Isabell, when Fraunce reiects.
Whether, O whether doost thou bend thy steps ?

Enter sir lohn of Henolt.

S. I oh. Madam, what cheere ?

Qu. A, good sir lohn of Henolt, G 8

Neuer so cheereles, nor so farre distrest.

S. loh. I heare, sweete lady, of the kings vnkindenes ; 1600
But droope not, madam, noble mindes contemne
Despaire ; will your grace with me to Henolt P
And there stay times aduantage with your sonne ?
How say you, my Lord, will you go with your friends,
And shake off all our fortunes equallie ? 1605

Prin. So pleaseth the Queene my mother, me it likes.
The king of England, nor the court of Fraunce,
Shall haue me from my gratious mothers side
Till I be strong enough to breake a staffe,
And then haue at the proudest Spencers head. 1610

Sir lohn. Well said, my lord.

Qu. Oh, my sweet hart, how do I mone thy wrongs !
Yet triumphe in the hope of thee, my ioye.
Ah, sweete sir lohn, euen to the vtmost verge
Of Europe, or the shore of Tanaise, 1615

Will we with thee ; to Henolt ? so we will. .
The Marques is a noble Gentleman ;
His grace, I dare presume, will welcome me.
But who are these ?

Enter Edmund and Mortimer.
Edm. Madam, long may you Hue,

1604 m'Lord F. 1605 shake off] share of Br ; our] your R.
1606 please FTM. 1607 nor] not D Dt S D2.

1612 wrong D±D2. 1614 e'en F. 1615 or] on D3 D4.

1616 Will we] We will RCWBEPV. 1618 dare om. D.
1619 who] what D.

62

EDWARD II

Much happier then your friends in England do. 1620

Qu. Lord Edmund, and Lord Mortimer aliue.
Welcome to Fraunce ! the newes was heere, my lord,
That you were dead, or very neare your death.

Mor. iu. Lady, the last was truest of the twaine,

But Mortimer, reserude for better hap, 1625

Hath shaken off the thraldome of the tower,
And Hues t* aduance your standard, good my lord.

Prin. How meane you, and the king my father Hues ?
No, my lord Mortimer, not I, I trow. Hj

Qu. Not, sonne ? why not ? I would it were no worse. 1630
But, gentle lords, friendles we are in Fraunce.

Mor. iu. Mounsier le Grand, a noble friend of yours,
Tould vs at our arriuall all the newes :
How hard the nobles, how vnkinde the king
Hath shewed himself ; but, madam, right makes roome

1635

Where weapons want ; and, though a many friends

Are made away, as Warwick, Lancaster,

And others of our partie and faction,

Yet haue we friends, assure your grace, in England,

Would cast vp cappes, and clap their hands for ioy, 1640

To see vs there, appointed for our foes.
Edm. Would all were well, and Edward well reclaimd

For Englands honor, peace, and quietnes.
Mort. [iu.] But by the sword, my lord, it must be deseru'd,

The king will nere forsake his flatterers. 1645

S. loh. My Lords of England, sith the vngentle king

Of Fraunce refuseth to giue aide of armes

To this distressed Queene his sister heere,

Go you with her to Henolt ; doubt yee not

We will finde comfort, money, men, and friends 1650

Ere long, to bid the English king a base.

1627 to 34 S. 1628 and] an C W P.

1636 want] won't D D1 S D2 R K ; wont O C P ; a] so D— R C P.

1638 partie] part £>3 £>4 C W F P M. 1644 't D3— V.

1646 th' DD1O— V. 1651 abase 4— R.

EDWARD II 63

How say, yong Prince, what thinke you of the match ?
Prin. I thinke King Edward will out-run vs all.
Qu. Nay, sonne, not so ; and you must not discourage

Your friends that are so forward in your aide. 1655

Edm. Sir lohn of Henolt, pardon vs I pray ;

These comforts that you giue our wofull queene

Binde vs in kindenes all at your commaund.
Qu. Yea, gentle brother ; and the God of heauen

Prosper your happie motion, good sir lohn. 1660

Mor. iu. This noble gentleman, forward in armes,

Was borne, I see, to be our anchor hold. H2

Sir lohn of Henolt , be it thy renowne

That Englands Queene and nobles in distresse

Haue beene by thee restored and comforted. 1665

S. lohn. Madam, along, and you my lord, with me,

That Englands peeres may Henolts welcome see.

[Exeunt]

Enter the king, Arundell, the two Spencers, with others.
Edw. Thus, after many threats of wrathfull warre,

Triumpheth Englands Edward with his friends ;

And triumph Edward with his friends vncontrould. 1670

My lord of Gloster, do you heare the newes ?
Spen. iu. What newes, my lord ?
Edw. Why, man, they say there is great execution

Done through the realme ; my lord of Arundell,

You haue the note, haue you not ? ^75

Arun. From the lieutenant of the tower, my lord.
Edw. I pray let vs see it ; what haue we there ?

Read it, Spencer.

Spencer reads their names.

Why so, they barkt a pace a month a goe,

1652 How] NowCPFP; yong] you OR; say'st D3D4EV ;
you om. 3 ; march misp. D.

1666 lords D3D^BE V. 1670 his om. CW P.

1674 In this line 1234 have correctly Arundell.

1677-8 I ... Spencer F. prints as one /., contracting let's, see't,
read't. 1679 a month] not long 34 O.

N

64 EDWARD II

Now, on my life, theile neither barke nor bite. 1680

Now, sirs, the newes from Fraunce ? Gloster, I trowe

The lords of Fraunce loue Englands gold so well,

As Isabell gets no aide from thence.

What now remaines ? haue you proclaimed, my lord,

Reward for them can bring in Mortimer ? 1685

Spen. iu. My lord, we haue, and if he be in England,
A will be had ere long, I doubt it not.

Edw. If, doost thou say ? Spencer, as true as death,
He is in Englands ground ; our port-maisters
Are not so careles of their kings commaund. 1690

Enter a Poaste.

How now, what newes with thee ? from whence come

these ?
Post. Letters, my lord, and tidings foorth of Fraunce

To you, my lord of Gloster, from Levune. H3

Edward. Reade. 1694

Spencer reades the letter.

My dutie to your honor promised, &c. I haue, according to instructions
in that behalfe, dealt with the king of Fraunce his lords, and effected,
that the Queene, all discontented and discomforted, is gone, — whither
if you aske, with sir lohn of Henolt, brother to the Marquesse, into
Flaunders; with them are gone lord Edmund and the lord Mortimer,
hauing in their company diuers of your nation, and others ; and as con-
stant report goeth, they intend to giue king Edward battell in England,
sooner then he can looke for them ; this is all the newes of import.

Your honors in all seruice, Levune.

Edw. A, villaines, hath that Mortimer escapt ?

With him is Edmund gone associate ? 1705

And will sir lohn of Henolt lead the round ?

1683 Isabella D3—K B— V ; no more aid F.
1687 A] He D— R CWP. 1691 comes O P.
1693 lords misp. Dt. 1694 s-d- letters 34 D2.

1695 praemised 2—Br. 1696 affected D± D2.

EDWARD II 65

Welcome, a Gods name, Madam, and your sonne.
England shall welcome you, and all your route.
Gallop a pace, bright Phoebus, through the skie,
And duskie night, in rustic iron carre, 1710

Betweene you both, shorten the time, I pray,
That I may see that most desired day
When we may meet these traitors in the field.
Ah, nothing greeues me but my little boye
Is thus misled to countenance their ils. I7I5

Come, friends, to Bristow, there to make vs strong.
And windes, as equall be to bring them in,
As you iniurious were to beare them foorth.
[Exeunt.]

Enter the Queene, her sonne, Edmund, Mortimer, and sir lohn.

Qu. Now, lords, our louing friends and countrimen,

Welcome to England all with prosperous windes. H 4 1720

Our kindest friends in Belgia haue we left,

To cope with friends at home ; a heauie case

When force to force is knit, and sword and gleaue

In ciuill broiles makes kin and country men

Slaughter themselues in others, and their sides I725

With their owne weapons gorde ; but whats the helpe ?

Misgouerned kings are cause of all this wrack.

And Edward, thou art one among them all,

Whose loosnes hath betrayed thy land to spoyle,

And made the channels ouerflow with blood, 1730

Of thine own people patro shouldst thou be,

But thou—

Mor. iu. Nay, madam, if you be a warriar,
Ye must not grow so passionate in speeches.
Lords, sith that we are, by sufferance of heauen, 1735

1707 a' D3 T M ; o' Z)4 W. 1710 duskie] dusty ORCW P.

1713 those ORCW. 1716 Bristol D— R K.

1724 make 2— V. 1726 gore D— RC WFEP V.

1727 wreck D—RD^—V. 1730 And] WhoRD3— KEEP;

channell 2— F. 1731-2 Of ... thou 1234 print as one I.

1734 Ye] You D3DtKBETMV. 1735 that om. CWP.

66

EDWARD II

Arriued and armed in this princes right,

Heere for our countries cause sweare we to him

All homage, fealtie, and forwardnes.

And for the open wronges and iniuries

Edward hath done to vs, his Queene, and land, 1740

We come in armes to wrecke it with the swords ;

That Englands queene in peace may reposesse

Her dignities and honors ; and withall

We may remooue these flatterers from the king,

That hauocks Englands wealth and treasurie. 1745

S. lo. Sound trupets, my lord, & forward let vs martch ;
Edward will thinke we come to flatter him.

Edm. I would he neuer had bin flattered more.

[Exeunt.]

Enter the King, Baldock, and Spencer the sonne, flying

about the stage.
Spe. Fly, fly, my Lord, the Queene is ouer strong,

Her friends doe multiply and yours doe fayle. 1750

Shape we our course to Ireland, there to breath.
Edw. What, was I borne to flye and runne away, H5
And leaue the Mortimers conquerers behind ?
Giue me my horse, and lets r'enforce our troupes,
And in this bed of honors die with fame. *755

Bal. O no, my lord, this princely resolution
Fits not the time ; away, we are pursu'd.

[Exeunt.]

Edmund alone with a sword and target.
Edm. This way he fled, but I am come too late.
Edward, alas, my hart relents for thee.
Proud traytor Mortimer, why doost thou chase 1760
Thy lawfull king, thy soueraigne, with thy sword ?
Vilde wretch, and why hast thou, of all vnkinde,

1741 sworde 2— V. 1744 those ORCWP.
1745 havock D— K B—V. 1746 m'lord F.
1754 reinforce D—KE— V (see note], and om. D—R CFTPM ;
let us F T M. 1755 honor 2— V. 1762 Vile D—R D^—K E— V.

EDWARD II 67

Borne armes against thy brother and thy king ?

Raigne showers of vengeance on my cursed head,

Thou God, to whom in iustice it belongs 1765

To punish this vnnaturall reuolt.

Edward, this Mortimer aimes at thy life.

O, fly him then ; but, Edmund, calme this rage ;

Dissemble, or thou diest ; for Mortimer

And Isabell doe kisse while they conspire. I77°

And yet she beares a face of loue forsooth.

Fie on that loue that hatcheth death and hate !

Edmund, away. Bristow to Longshankes blood

Is false ; be not found single for suspect :

Proud Mortimer pries neare into thy walkes. 1775

Enter the Queene, Mortimer, the young Prince, and Sir lohn

of Henolt.
Qu. Successfull bat tells giues the God of kings

To them that fight in right and feare his wrath.

Since then succesfully we haue preuayled,

Thankes be heauens great architect and you,

Ere farther we proceede, my noble lordes, H6 1780

We heere create our welbeloued sonne,

Of loue and care vnto his royall person,

Lord warden of the realme ; and sith the fates

Haue made his father so infortunate,

Deale you, my lords, in this, my louing lords, 1785

As to your wisdomes fittest seemes in all.
Edm. Madam, without offence if I may aske,

How will you deale with Edward in his fall ?
Prince. Tell me, good vnckle, what Edward doe you meane ?
Edm. Nephew, your father, I dare not call him king. 1790
Mor. [iu.] My lord of Kent, what needes these questions ?

Tis not in her controulment, nor in ours,

1764 my] thy CP. 1771 End misp. 2.

1773 Bristol D1—R. 1775 unto B E V.

1776 Successfulls 23 ; battel 2— V. 1778 successively 4.
1779 Thankt 23 F ; Thanked ^D—R; Thankdd D3—KB—V;
the heaven's F. 1784 unfortunate 4 D — R. 1790 fa'er F.

68 EDWARD II

But as the realme and parlement shall please,

So shall your brother be disposed of. —

I like not this relenting moode in Edmund, 1795

Madam ; tis good to looke to him betimes.

[Aside to the Queen.}

Qu. My lord, the Maior of Bristow knows our mind ?
Mor. [in.] Yea, madam ; and they scape not easilie

That fled the feeld.
Qu. Baldock is with the king ;

A goodly chauncelor, is he not, my lord ? 1800

S. loh. So are the Spencers, the father and the sonne.
Edm. This Edward is the ruine of the realme.

Enter Rice ap Howell, and the Maior of Bristow, with Spencer

the father.

Rice. God saue Queene Isabell, & her princely sonne.
Madam, the Maior and Citizens of Bristow,
In signe of loue and dutie to this presence, 1805

Present by me this traitor to the state,
Spencer, the father to that wanton Spencer,
That, like the lawles Catiline of Rome, H7

Reueld in Englands wealth and treasurie.

Qu. We thanke you all.

Mort. iu. Your louing care in this 1810

Deserueth princelie fauors and rewardes.
But wheres the king and the other Spencer fled ?

Rice. Spencer the sonne, created earle of Gloster,
Is with that smoothe toongd scholler Baldock gone,
And shipt but late for Ireland, with the king. 1815

Mor. iu. Some whirle winde fetche them backe, or sincke

them all. — [Aside.}

They shalbe started thence, I doubt it not.

Prin. Shall I not see the king my father yet ?

1797 Bristol D1—R K. 1798 scapt 3. 1801 th' father F.
1802 O D3 D4 W M T ass. to Y. Mor. F places commas after this
and Edward, and adds s.d.To the Prince.
1804 Bristol D1—RK. 1812 th' F.

EDWARD II 69

Edmund. Vnhappies Edward, chaste from Englands bounds

[Aside.]

S. loh. Madam, what resteth, why stand ye in a muse ? 1820

Qu. I rue my lords ill fortune, but, alas,
Care of my countrie cald me to this warre.

Mort. [iu] Madam, haue done with care & sad complaint ;
Your king hath wrongd your countrie and himself e,
And we must seeke to right it as we may. 1825

Meane while, haue hence this rebell to the blocke.
Your lordship cannot priuiledge your head.

Spen. pa. Rebell is he that fights against his prince ;
So fought not they that fought in Edwards right.

Mort. [iu.] Take him away, he prates ; you, Rice ap
how ell, 1830

[Exeunt Attendants with the elder Spencer]
Shall do good seruice to her Maiestie,
Being of countenance in your countrey here,
To follow these rebellious runnagates. —
We in meane while, madam, must take aduise
How Baldocke, Spencer, and their complices 1835

May in their fall be followed to their end.

Exeunt omnes.

Enter the Abbott, Monkes, [and in disguise] Edward, [the

younger] Spencer, and Baldocke.
Abbot. Haue you no doubt, my Lorde, haue you no feare ; H8

As silent and as carefull will we be,

To keepe your royall person safe with vs,

Free from suspect, and fell inuasion 1840

Of such as haue your maiestie in chase,

Your selfe, and those your chosen companie,

As daunger of this stormie time requires.
Edwa. Father, thy face should harbor no deceit.

1819 Vnhappies] Unhappy D— K E—V; Unhappy is F.

1820 ye] you D3— K BEPMV.

1827 Your . . . head om. z—V. 1828 his] the z—V.
1835 complicies misp. 2. 1838 we will 2 — V.
1842 Your . . . companie om. D O.

70 EDWARD II

O, hadst thou euer beene a king, thy hart, 1845

Pierced deeply with sence of my distresse,

Could not but take compassion of my state.

Stately and proud, in riches and in traine,

Whilom I was, powerfull and full of pompe.

But what is he, whome rule and emperie 1850

Haue not in life or death made miserable ?

Come, Spencer, come, Baldocke, come, sit downe by me ;

Make triall now of that philosophic

That in our famous nurseries of artes

Thou suckedst from Plato, and from Aristotle. 1855

Father, this life contemplatiue is heauen.

O, that I might this life in quiet lead.

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

Your liues and my dishonor they pursue.

Yet, gentle monkes, for treasure, golde, nor fee, 1860

Do you betray vs and our companie.
Monks. Your grace may sit secure, if none but wee

doe wot of your abode.
Spen. Not one aliue, but shrewdly I suspect

A gloomie fellow in a meade belowe ; 1865

A gaue a long looke after vs, my lord ;

And all the land I know is vp in armes, I,

Armes that pursue our liues with deadly hate.
Bald. We were imbarkt for Ireland, wretched we,

With awkward windes and sore tempests driuen 1870

To fall on shoare, and here to pine in feare

Of Mortimer and his confederates.
Edw. Mortimer, who talkes of Mortimer ?

Who wounds me with the name of Mortimer,

That bloudy man ? good father, on thy lap 1875

1846 a sense D— R CWFBEP. 1850 empire D.

1852 Spencer, come] Spencer CWFP. 1853 that om. 3 ; thy
4 ORCWFP. 1855 suck'st D— R. 1862 ORD3—KB—V
ass. to Monk or First Monk. 1866 A] He D— R CW P.

1870 with sore 4 D3 D4 ; sore] surly D ; tempest O R.

1872 confiderates misp. 2.

EDWARD II 71

Lay I this head, laden with mickle care.
O, might I neuer open these eyes againe,
Neuer againe lift vp this drooping head,
O, neuer more lift vp this dying hart !

Spen. son. Looke vp, my lord. — Baldock, this drowsines 1880
Betides no good ; here euen we are betraied.

Enter, with Welch hookes, Rice ap Howell, a Mower, and the

Earle of Leicester.

Mower. Vpon my life, those be the men ye seeke.
Rice. Fellow, enough ; my lord, I pray be short ;

A faire commission warrants what we do.
Lei. The Queenes commission, vrgd by Mortimer. 1885

What cannot gallant Mortimer with the Queene ? —

Alas, see where he sits, and hopes vnseene

T'escape their hands that seeke to reaue his life.

Too true it is : quern dies vidit veniens superbum,

Hunc dies vidit fugiens iacentem. 1890

But, Leister, leaue to growe so passionate. —

Spencer and Baldocke, by no other names,

I arrest you of high treason here.

Stand not on titles, but obay th'arrest ;

Tis in the name of Isabell the Queene. — 1895

My lord, why droope you thus ?
Edw. O day ! the last of all my blisse on earth, I2

Center of all misfortune. O, my starres !

Why do you lowre vnkindly on a king ?

Comes Leister then in Isabellas name 1900

To take my life, my companie from me ?

Here, man, rip vp this panting brest of mine,

And take my heart, in reskew of my friends.

1877 ope 3 — V.

1881 even here O R C W P; s.d., ap] up I ; of om. 2.

1882 these 2— V. 1886 gallant om. 34 D^—R; doe with 4 OR.
1888 ToCWBEPV. 1893 IdoORCWFBEPV.

1894 theSCWEPV.

1900 Come 2 O F; Came 34 ; commas after comes and Leister OF;
Isabel's O.

72 EDWARD II

Rice. Away with them.

Spen. iu. It may become thee yet

To let vs take our farewell of his grace. 1905

Abb. My heart with pity earnes to see this sight :

A king to beare these words and proud commaunds.
Edw. Spencer, a, sweet Spencer, thus then must we part.
Spen. iu. We must, my lord, so will the angry heauens.
Edw. Nay, so will hell, and cruell Mortimer, 1910

The gentle heauens haue not to do in this.
Bald. My lord, it is in vaine to greeue or storme ;

Here humblie of your grace we take our leaues ;

Our lots are cast, I feare me so is thine.
Edw a. In heauen wee may, in earth neuer shall wee meete ;

1915
And, Leister, say, what shall become of vs ?

Leist. Your maiestie must go to Killingworth.
Edw. Must ! tis somwhat hard when kings must go.
Leist. Here is a Litter readie for your grace,

That waites your pleasure, and the day growes old. 1920
Rice. As good be gon, as stay and be benighted.
Edw. A litter hast thou ? lay me in a hearse,

And to the gates of hell conuay me hence.

Let Plutos bels ring out my f atall knell,

And hags howle for my death at Charons shore. 1925

For friends hath Edward none but these and these,

And these must die vnder a tyrants sword.
Rice. My lord, be going ; care not for these, I3

For we shall see them shorter by the heads.
Edw. Well, that shalbe, shalbe ; part we must. 1930

Sweete Spencer, gentle Baldocke, part we must.

Hence, fained weeds, vnfained are my woes.

[Throwing off disguise.]

1906 yearns D— R CWTP.

1908 a om. DORCWP ; oh F. 1911 in] with 5.
1915 ne'er D — V. 1918 it is Z)3 — V. 1922 in] on 34 C P.
1926 friend C W F B P ; [hapless] Edward C W P ; and these om.
D^D^CWEP. 1927 And these om. D—R K.

1930 that] what DOR; that that F.

EDWARD II 73

Father, farewell ; Leister, thou staist for me,
And go I must ; life, farewell with my friends.

Exeunt Edward and Leicester.

Spen. iu. O, is he gone ! is noble Edward gone, 1935

Parted from hence, neuer to see vs more ?

Rent, sphere of heauen, and fier, forsake thy orbe.

Earth, melt to ayre, gone is my soueraigne,

Gone, gone, alas, neuer to make returne.
Bald. Spencer, I see our soules are fleeted hence ; 1940

We are depriude the sun-shine of our life.

Make for a new life, man ; throw vp thy eyes,

And hart and hand to heauens immortall throne.

Pay natures debt with cheerefull countenance.

Reduce we all our lessons vnto this : 1945

To die, sweet Spencer, therefore Hue wee all ;

Spencer, all Hue to die, and rise to fall.
Rice. Come, come, keepe these preachments till you come to

the place appointed. You, and such as you are, haue

made wise worke in England. Will your Lordships away ?
Mower. Your worship, I trust, will remember me ? 1951
Rice. Remember thee, fellowe ? what else ?

Follow me to the towne. [Exeunt.]

Enter the king, Leicester, with a Bishop [Hereford] for the

crowne, [and Trussel].
Lei. Be patient, good my lord, cease to lament.

Imagine Killingworth cast ell were your court, I4 1955

And that you lay for pleasure here a space,

Not of compulsion or neccissitie.
Edw. Leister, if gentle words might comfort me,

Thy speeches long agoe had easde my sorrowes,

1934 s-d- Leicester] Lancaster 234.
1937 Rend D— RKE. 1940 fleeting 2— V.

1943 hands CWBEPV.

1948-50 1234 print as 3 complete II. , dividing after appointed
and England. 1948 th' F.

1950 your Lordships] you F. 1951 worship] lordship z—V.
1957 °f] f°r OR. 1959 sorrow T.

74 EDWARD II

For kinde and louing hast thou alwaies beene. 1960

The greefes of priuate men are soone allay de,
But not of kings : the forrest Deare being strucke
Runnes to an herbe that closeth vp the wounds ;
But when the imperiall Lions flesh is gorde,
He rends and teares it with his wrathfull pawe, 1965
[And] highly scorning that the lowly earth
Should drinke his bloud, mounts vp into the ayre.
And so it fares with me, whose dauntlesse minde
The ambitious Mortimer would seeke to curbe,
And that vnnaturall Queene, false Isabell, 1970

That thus hath pent and mu'd me in a prison.
For such outragious passions cloye my soule
As with the wings of rancor and disdaine
Full often am I sowring up to heauen
To plaine me to the gods against them both. 1975

But when I call to minde I am a king,
Me thinkes I should reuenge me of the wronges
That Mortimer and Isabell haue done.
But what are kings, when regiment is gone,
But perfect shadowes in a sun-shine day ? 1980

My nobles rule, I beare the name of king,
I weare the crowne, but am contrould by them,
By Mortimer and my vnconstant Queene,
Who spots my nuptiall bed with infamie
Whilst I am lodgd within this caue of care, 1985

Where sorrow at my elbow still attends
To companie my hart with sad laments,
That bleedes within me for this strange exchange. I6
But tell me, must I now resigne my crowne
To make vsurping Mortimer a king ?
Bish. Your grace mistakes, it is for Englands good

1964 th' F. 1966 [And] om. 1234.

1967 into] to 2-CKB-V; th' DD1ODtR.

1969 th' D Dl O—DI KFTM. 1972 cloye] claw D O.

1974 oft 2—SD2 D3 K ; to high D— R.

1977 the] my 2341)3— F.

EDWARD II 75

And princely Edwards right, we craue the crowne.

Edw. No, tis for Mortimer, not Edwards head ;
For hees a lambe, encompassed by Woolues
Which in a moment will abridge his life. 1995

But if proud Mortimer do weare this crowne,
Heauens turne it to a blaze of quenchlesse fier,
Or like the snakie wreathe of Tisiphon,
Engirt the temples of his hatefull head !
So shall not Englands Vines be perished, 2000

But Edwards name suruiues, though Edward dies.

Lei. My lord, why waste you thus the time away ?
They stay your answer : will you yeeld your crowne ?

Edw. Ah, Leister, way how hardly I can brooke
To loose my crowne and kingdome without cause, 2005
To giue ambitious Mortimer my right,
That like a mountaine ouerwhelmes my blisse,
In which extreame my minde here murthered is.
But what the heauens appoint I must obaye.
Here, take my crowne ; the life of Edward too : 2010

[Taking off the crown.]

Two kings in England cannot raigne at once.
But stay a while, let me be king till night,
That I may gaze vpon this glittering crowne.
So shall my eyes receiue their last content,
My head, the latest honor dew to it, 2015

And ioyntly both yeeld vp their wished right.
Continue euer, thou celestiall sunne,
Let neuer silent night possesse this clime.
Stand still, you watches of the element,
All times and seasons, rest you at a stay, 2020

That Edward may be still faire Englands king. I6
But dayes bright beames dooth vanish fast away,

1997 Heav'n O R C W F P. 2000 Vine O R— W F—Br.

2001 suruies 3 ; suruiue ^—FTPM.

2008 extreams 34 D1—R CW K.

2009 what] that 234 D3 £>4 K F T P M.
2012 be om. 2. 2022 beame 2 — V.

76 EDWARD II

And needes I must resigne my wished crowne.

Inhumaine creatures, nurst with Tigers milke,

Why gape you for your soueraignes ouerthrow ? 2025

My diadem, I meane, and guiltlesse life.

See, monsters, see, ile weare my crowne againe.

What, feare you not the furie of your king ?

[Resuming the crown.}

But, haplesse Edward, thou art fondly led ;

They passe not for thy frownes, as late they did, 2030

But seekes to make a new elected king,

Which fils my mind with strange despairing thoughts,

Which thoughts are martyred with endles torments ;

And in this torment comfort finde I none,

But that I feele the crowne vpon my head. 2035

And therefore let me weare it yet a while.
Tru. My Lorde, the parlement must haue present newes,

And therefore say, will you resigne or no ?

The king rageth.
Edw. Ile not resigne ; but, whilst I Hue,

Traitors, be gon, and ioine you with Mortimer. 2040

Elect, conspire, install, do what you will ;

Their bloud and yours shall seale these treacheries.
Bish. This answer weele returne, and so farewell. [Going.}
Leist. Call them againe, my lorde, and speake them faire,

For if they goe, the prince shall lose his right. 2045

Edward. Call thou them back, I haue no power to speake.
Lei. My lord, the king is willing to resigne.
Bish. If he be not, let him choose.
Edw. O, would I might ; but heauens & earth conspire

To make me miserable : heere, receiue my crowne. I7 2050

Receiue it ? no, these innocent hands of mine

Shall not be guilt ie of so foule a crime.

2031 seeke 4— V. 2033 martyr'd D Dl D2.

2037 O ass. to Bish. ; DD1D2R ass. to Trusty.

2039 but] not 34 C W P V; live] be king D— Z>4 K— T M Br.

2040 and om. CWP; you om. D—RK.

2041 conspire] confirm Dl S R. 2049 heav'n D — R.

EDWARD II 77

He of you all that most desires my bloud,

And will be called the murtherer of a king,

Take it : what, are you mooude, pitie you me ? 2055

Then send for vnrelenting Mortimer,

And Isabell, whose eyes, being turnd to steele,

Will sooner sparkle fire then shed a teare.

Yet stay, for rather then I will looke on them

Heere, heere ; now, sweete God of heauen, 2060

[Giues the crown.]

Make me despise this transitorie pompe,

And sit for aye inthronized in heauen.

Come, death, and with thy fingers close my eyes ;

Or if I liue, let me forget my selfe.

Bish. My lorde, — 2065

Edw. Call me not lorde ; away, out of my sight.

Ah, pardon me, greefe makes me lunatick.

Let not that Mortimer protect my sonne.

More safetie is there in a Tigers iawes

Then his imbrasements ; beare this to the queene, 2070

Wet with my teares, and dried againe with sighes.

[Giues a handkerchiej '.]

If with the sight thereof she be not mooued,

Returne it backe and dip it in my bloud.

Commend me to my sonne, and bid him rule

Better then I ; yet how haue I transgrest, 2075

Vnlesse it be with too much clemencie ?
Tru. And thus most humbly do we take our leaue.

[Exeunt Bishop and Trussel.]
Edward. Farewell ; I know the next newes that they bring

2057 being] beene i. 2059 I'll D^ — V.

2062 aye] ever DORCW FP; inthroniz'd DD1OD2RCF.

2064 i—D2K add s.d. Enter Bartley.

2065 i— Dt OD2K ass. to Bartley.

2066-7 Call . . . lunatick 1234 print as three complete II., dividing
after lorde and me.

2069 there is 2— SD2D^D^K— T M V.

2070 Then] This misp. i • embracement D2.
2077 O ass. to Bish. ; DtD2R ass. to Trusty.

78 EDWARD II

Will be my death ; and welcome shall it be. I8

To wretched men death is felicitie. 2080

Leist. An other poast, what newes bringes he ?

Enter Bartley.
Edw. Such newes as I expect ; come, Bartley, come,

And tell thy message to my naked brest.
Bart. My lord, thinke not a thought so villanous

Can harbor in a man of noble birth. 2085

To do your highnes seruice and deuoire,

And saue you from your foes, Bartley would die.
Leist. My lorde, the counsell of the Queene commaunds

That I resigne my charge.

Edw. And who must keepe mee now ? must you, my lorde ?

2090

Bart. I, my most gratious lord, so tis decreed.
Edw. By Mortimer, whose name is written here.

[Taking the paper.]

Well may I rent his name that rends my hart.

[Tearing the paper.]

This poore reuenge hath something easd my minde.

So may his limmes be torne as is this paper. 2095

Heare me, immortall loue, and graunt it too.
Bart. Your grace must hence with mee to Bartley straight.
Edw. Whether you will ; all places are alike,

And euery earth is fit for buriall.

Leist. Fauor him, my lord, as much as lieth in you. 2100
Bart. Euen so betide my soule as I vse him.
Edw. Mine enemie hath pitied my estate,

And thats the cause that I am now remooude.
Bartley, And thinkes your grace that Bartley will bee cruell ?
Edw. I know not ; but of this am I assured, 2105

That death ends all, and I can die but once, —

Leicester, farewell.

2081 s.d. 1234 place this after 2064.

2088 of] and 34 D^SDZK ; command S. 2093 rend D— R E.

2094 has BEV. 2096 immorrall misp. 3.

2100 m'lord F. 2101 E'en F. 2102 Mine] My 34.

EDWARD II 79

Leicester. Not yet, my lorde, ile beare you on your waye. Kx
Exeunt omnes.

Enter Mortimer, and Queene Isabell.
Mor. iu. Faire Isabell, now haue we our desire.

The proud corrupters of the light-brainde king 2110

Haue done their homage to the loftie gallowes,

And he himself e lies in captiuitie.

Be rulde by me, and we will rule the realme.

In any case, take heed of childish feare ;

For now we hould an old Wolfe by the eares, 2115

That if he slip will seaze vpon vs both,

And gripe the sorer, being gript himself e.

Thinke therefore, madam, that imports vs much

To erect your sonne with all the speed we may,

And that I be protector ouer him, 2120

For our behoof e will beare the greater sway

When as a kings name shall be vnderwrit.
Qu. Sweet Mortimer, the life of Isabell,

Be thou perswaded that I loue thee well,

And therefore, so the prince my sonne be safe, 2125

Whome I esteeme as deare as these mine eyes,

Conclude against his father what thou wilt,

And I my selfe will willinglie" subscribe.
Mori. iu. First would I heare newes that hee were deposde,

And then let me alone to handle him. 2130

Enter Messenger. K 2

Mor. iu. Letters, from whence ?
Messen. From Killingworth, my lorde.

Qu. How fares my lord the king ?
Messen. In health, madam, but full of pensiuenes.
Queene. Alas, poore soule, would I could ease his greefe.

2115 eare 34.

2118 that] it D O R D3 C W P; that it KB; that't F; vs] as
12 Dl D2. 2119 T'erect F; elect O ; withall 123.

21 21 twill 34 .Dj— B T P M V; S places semi-colon after behoof e.
2129 the news 5 W; thatow. 2— D4 W— TM V.
O

80 EDWARD II

[Enter Bishop of Winchester with the crown.]
Thankes, gentle Winchester ; sirra, be gon. 2135

[Exit Messenger.]

Winchester. The king hath willingly resignde his crowne.

Qu. O, happie newes, send for the prince my sonne.

BisJi. Further, or this letter was sealed, Lord Bartley came,
So that he now is gone from Killingworth ;
And we haue heard that Edmund laid a plot 2140

To set his brother free, no more but so.
The lord of Bartley is so pitifull
As Leicester that had charge of him before.

Qu. Then let some other be his guardian.

Mor. iu. Let me alone, here is the priuie seale. 2145

Whose there ? call hither Gurney and Matreuis. —
To dash the heauie headed Edmunds drift,
Bartley shall be dischargd, the king remooude,
And none but we shall know where he lieth.

Qu. But, Mortimer, as long as he suruiues, 2150

What safetie rests for vs, or for my sonne ?

Mort. iu. Speake, shall he presently be dispatch'd and die ?

Queene. I would hee were, so it were not by my meanes.

• Enter Matreuis and Gurney. K3

Mortim. iu. Inough. — Matreuis, write a letter presently
Vnto the Lord of Bartley from our selfe, 2155

That he resigne the king to thee and Gurney,
And when tis done, we will subscribe our name.

Matr. It shall be done, my lord.

[Writes]

Mort. iu. Gurney.

Gurn. My Lorde.

Mort. iu. As thou intendest to rise by Mortimer,

Who now makes Fortunes wheele turne as he please, 2160

2138 or] ere D 0 R C W F P; letter om.CWF P.

2142 so] as O R C W E P; om. S.

2149 And where he lieth none but we shall know F ; see note.

2153 so't DORCWFP; 'twere D± S D2 Dz D4 K B E T M V.

2159 intend'st

EDWARD II 81

Seeke all the meanes thou canst to make him droope,
And neither giue him kinde word nor good looke.

Gurn. I warrant you, my lord.

Mort. iu. And this aboue the rest : because we heare
That Edmund casts to worke his libertie, 2165

Remooue him still from place to place by night,
Till at the last he come to Killingworth,
And then from thence to Bartley back againe ;
And by the way, to make him fret the more,
Speake curstlie to him, and in any case 2170

Let no man comfort him if he chaunce to weepe,
But amplifie his greefe with bitter words.

Matre. Feare not, my Lord, weele do as you commaund.

Mor. iu. So now, away, post thither wards amaine.

Qu. Whither goes this letter, to my lord the king ? 2175
Commend me humblie to his Maiestie,
And tell him that I labour all in vaine
To ease his greefe, and worke his libertie.
And beare him this, as witnesse of my loue. K4

[Gives ring.]

Matre. I will, madam. 2180

Exeunt Matreuis and Gurney.
Manent Isabell and Mortimer.

Enter the yong Prince, and the Earle of Kent talking with him.
Mor. iu. Finely dissembled ; do so still, sweet Queene.

Heere comes the yong prince, with the Earle of Kent.
Qu. Some thing he whispers in his childish eares.
Mort. iu. If he haue such accesse vnto the prince,

Our plots and stratagems will soone be dasht. 2185

Queen. Vse Edmund friendly, as if all were well.
Mor. iu. How fares my honorable lord of Kent ?
Edmun. In health, sweet e Mortimer ; — how fares your

grace ?
Queene. Well, if my Lorde your brother were enlargde.

2161 can P. 2164 we om. S.

2167 Till] And i. 2175 Whi'er F.

82

EDWARD II

Edm. I heare of late he hath deposde himselfe. 2190

Queen. The more my greefe.

Mortim. iu. And mine.

Edmun. Ah, they do dissemble. [Aside.]

Queen. Sweete sonne, come hither, I must talke with thee.

Mortim. iu. Thou, being his vnckle, and the next of bloud,

2195

Doe looke to be protector ouer the prince.
Edm. Not I, my lord ; who should protect the sonne

But she that gaue him life, I meane the Queene ?
Prin. Mother, perswade me not to weare the crowne ; K5

Let him be king ; I am too yong to raigne. 2200

Queene. But bee content, seeing it his highnesse pleasure.
Prin. Let me but see him first, and then I will.
Edmund. I, do, sweete Nephew.
Quee. Brother, you know it is impossible.
Prince. Why, is he dead ? 2205

Queen. No, God forbid.

Edmun. I would those wordes proceeded from your heart.
Mort. iu. Inconstant Edmund, doost thou fauor him,

That wast a cause of his imprisonment ?
Edm. The more cause haue I now to make amends. 2210
Mort. iu. I tell thee tis not meet that one so false

Should come about the person of a prince. —

[To the queen.]

My lord, he hath betraied the king his brother,

And therefore trust him not.

Prince. But hee repents, and sorrowes for it now. 2215
Queen. Come, sonne, and go with this gentle Lorde and me.
Prin. With you I will, but not with Mortimer.
Mort. iu. Why, yongling, s'dainst thou so of Mortimer ?

Then I will carrie thee by force away.
Prin. Helpe, vnckle Kent, Mortimer will wrong me. 2220
Quee. Brother Edmund, striue not, we are his friends.

2195 Thru] You 2— V. 2196 o'er D— V.

2201 it is 34 D^—R ; 'tis D3— V; pleasures P.
2208 doest 234. 2218 dain'st D ; disdain'st S O. 2.221 we're F.

EDWARD II 88

Isabell is neerer then the earle of Kent.
Edm. Sister, Edward is my charge, redeeme him.
Queen. Edward is my sonne, and I will keepe him.
Edmun. Mortimer shall know that he hath wrongde mee.

2225

Hence will I haste to Killingworth castle,
And rescue aged Edward from his foes, K6

To be reuengde on Mortimer and thee.

[Aside.]
Exeunt omnes.

Enter Matreuis and Gurney with the king.
Matr. My lord, be not pensiue, we are your friends ;

Men are ordaind to Hue in miserie. 2230

Therefore, come, dalliance dangereth our Hues.
Edw. Friends, whither must vnhappie Edward go ?

Will hatefull Mortimer appoint no rest ?

Must I be vexed like the nightly birde,

Whose sight is loathsome to all winged fowles ? 2235

When will the furie of his minde asswage ?

When will his hart be satisfied with bloud ?

If mine will serue, vnbowell straight this brest,

And giue my heart to Isabell and him :

It is the chief est marke they leuell at. 2240

Gurney. Not so, my liege ; the Queene hath giuen this
charge,

To keepe your grace in safe tie.

Your passions make your dolours to increase.
Edw. This vsage makes my miserie increase.

But can my ayre of life continue long 2245

When all my sences are anoyde with stenche ?

Within a dungeon Englands king is kept,

Where I am steru'd for want of sustenance :

2222 Isabel's F. 2225 wrongdd D3 D4 K B E T M V.

2229 so pensive W; we're F. 2242 [Only] toC W F P.

2243 dolours] choler D—R; to om. 4.

2244 to increase BETV. 2248 starv'd D— K B— V.

84 EDWARD II

My daily diet is heart breaking sobs,

That almost rents the closet of my heart ; 2250

Thus Hues old Edward not relieu'd by any,

And so must die, though pitied by many. K7

O water, gentle friends, to coole my thirst,

And cleare my bodie from foule excrements.

Matr. Heeres channell water, as our charge is giuen ; 2255
Sit downe, for weele be Barbars to your grace.

Edw. Traitors, away, what, will you murther me,
Or choake your soueraigne with puddle water ?

Guru. No, but wash your face, and shaue away your beard,
Least you be knowne, and so be rescued. 2260

Matr. Why striue you thus ? your labour is in vaine.

Edward. The Wrenne may striue against the Lions strength,
But all in vaine ; so vainely do I striue
To seeke for mercie at a tyrants hand.

They wash him with puddle water, and shaue his

beard away.

Immortall powers, that knowes the painfull cares 2265
That waites vpon my poore distressed soule,
O leuell all your lookes vpon these daring men
That wronges their liege and soueraigne, Englands king.
O Gaueston, it is for thee that I am wrongd ;
For me, both thou and both the Spencers died ; 2270
And for your sakes a thousand wronges ile take.
The Spencers ghostes, where euer they remaine,
Wish well to mine ; then tush, for them ile die.

Matr. Twixt theirs and yours shall be no enmitie.

Come, come, away ; now put the torches out ; 2275
Weele enter in by darkenes to Killingworth.

Enter Edmund.
Gurn. How now, who comes there ?

2250 rend D—R; rent D3—EP V. 2255 our] your BE V.
2265 know£>— KPM. 2266 wait D— KEPM.

2267 a11 om. CWFP. 2268 wrong D— K P M.

2269 Gauston F ; 'tis CWFBEPV.
2276 darkenes] dark F. 2277 there] here O.

EDWARD II 85

Matr. Guarde the king sure, it is the earle of Kent. K8
Edw. O gentle brother, helpe to rescue me.
Matr. Keepe them a sunder, thrust in the king. 2280
Edm. Souldiers, let me but talke to him one worde.
Gur. Lay hands vpon the earle for this assault.
Edmu. Lay downe your weapons, traitors, yeeld the king.
Matr. Edmund, yeeld thou thy selfe, or thou shalt die.
Edmu. Base villaines, wherefore doe you gripe mee thus ?

2285

Gurney. Binde him, and so conuey him to the court.
Edm. Where is the court but heere ? heere is the king,

And I will visit him, why stay you me ?
Matr. The court is where lord Mortimer remaines ;

Thither shall your honour go ; and so, farewell. 2290
Exeunt Matr. and Gurney, with the king.
Manent Edmund and the souldiers.
Edm. O, miserable is that commonweale,

Where lords keepe courts, and kings are lockt in prison !
Sould. Wherefore stay we ? on, sirs, to the court.
Edm. I, lead me whether you will, euen to my death,

Seeing that my brother cannot be releast. 2295

Exeunt omnes.

Enter Mortimer alone.

Mort. iu. The king must die, or Mortimer goes downe ;
The commons now begin to pitie him.
Yet he that is the cause of Edwards death,
Is sure to pay for it when his sonne is of age.
And therefore will I do it cunninglie : 2300

This letter, written by a friend of ours, Lx

Containes his death, yet bids them saue his life.
Edwardum occidere nolite timere bonum est :
Feare not to kill the king, tis good he die ;
But read it thus, and thats an other sence : 2305

2282 this] his 2— V. 2284 shall F.

2286 Binde] Blind O ; so om. R. 2290 Thi'er F.

2292 Where lords 1234 place at end of preceding I.
2294 whi'er F; e'en F. 2299 for't F; son's D— V.

86

EDWARD II

Edwardum occidere nolite timere bonum est :

Kill not the king, tis good to feare the worst.

Vnpointed as it is, thus shall it goe,

That, being dead, if it chaunce to be found,

Matreuis and the rest may beare the blame, 2310

And we be quit that causde it to be done.

Within this roome is lockt the messenger

That shall conueie it, and performe the rest ;

And by a secret token that he beares,

Shall he be murdered when the deed is done. 2315

Lightborn, come forth ; art thou as resolute as thou wast ?

[Enter Lightborn.]

Light. What else, my lord ? and farre more resolute.
Mori. iu. And hast thou cast how to accomplish it ?
Light. I, I, and none shall know which way he died.
Mortim. iu. But at his lookes, Lightborne, thou wilt relent.

2320

Light. Relent, ha, ha, I vse much to relent.
Mort. iu. Well, do it brauely, and be secret.
Light. You shall not need to giue instructions.

Tis not the first time I haue killed a man :

I learnde in Naples how to poison flowers, 2325

To strangle with a lawne thrust through the throte,

To pierce the wind-pipe with a needles point,

Or, whilst one is a sleepe, to take a quill

And blowe a little powder in his eares,

Or open his mouth and powre quick siluer downe. 2330

But yet I haue a brauer way then these.
Mort. iu. Whats that ? L2

Light. Nay, you shall pardon me, none shall knowe my

trickes.
Mort. iu. I care not how it is, so it be not spide.

Deliuer this to Gurney and Matreuis. 2335

[Gives letter.]

2316 as resolute] so resolute 2 — F.

2326 through] down 34 D3 D4 C W E— V. 2327 a] the B.
- 2331 But] And BE V. 2334 'tis F.

EDWARD II 87

At euery ten miles end thou hast a horse.

Take this, away, and neuer see me more.

[Gives money.]
Lightborne. No ?
Mort. iu. No, vnlesse thou bring me newes of Edwards

death.
Light. That will I quicklie do ; farewell, my lord. 2340

[Exit.]
Mor. [iu] The prince I rule, the queene do I commaund,

And with a lowly conge to the ground,

The proudest lords salute me as I passe.

I scale, I cancell, I do what I will.

Feard am I more then lou'd : — let me be feard, 2345

And when I frowne, make all the court looke pale.

I view the prince with Aristorchus eyes,

Whose lookes were as a breeching to a boye.

They thrust vpon me the Protectorship,

And sue to me for that that I desire ; 2350

While at the councell table, graue enough,

And not vnlike a bashfull puretaine,

First I complaine of imbecilitie,

Saying it is onus quam grauissimum ;

Till, being interrupted by my friends, 2355

Suscepi that prouinciam, as they terme it.

And to conclude, I am Protector now.

Now all is sure, the Queene and Mortimer

Shall rule the realme, the king ; and none rule vs.

Mine enemies will I plague, my friends aduance, 2360

And what I list commaund, who dare controwle ?

Maior sum quam cui possitfortuna nocere. L3

And that this be the coronation day,

It pleaseth me and Isabell the Queene.

[Trumpets within.]

The trumpets sound, I must go take my place. 2365

2336 mile 23 D— V.

2350 that that] that which D — R. 2352 paretaine 12.

2359 rule us] rules us 234 F B E T M V. 2360 Mine] My O.

88

EDWARD II

Enter the yong King, Bishop, Champion, Nobles, Queene.

Bish. Long Hue king Edward, by the grace of God
King of England, and lorde of Ireland.

Cham. If any Christian, Heathen, Turke, or lew,
Dares but affirme that Edwards not true king,
And will auouche his saying with the sworde, 2370

I am the Champion that will combate him.

Mort. iu. None comes ; sound trumpets.

[Trumpets sound.]

King. Champion, heeres to thee.

Qu. Lord Mortimer, now take him to your charge.

Enter Souldiers with the Earle of Kent prisoner.
Mor. iu. What traitor haue wee there with blades and billes ?
Sould. Edmund, the Earle of Kent.

King. What hath he done ? 2375

Sould. A would haue taken the king away perforce,

As we were bringing him to Killingworth.
Mortimer iu. Did you attempt his rescue, Edmund ? speake.
Edm. Mortimer, I did ; he is our king,

And thou compelst this prince to weare the crowne. 2380
Mort. iu. Strike off his head, he shall haue marshall lawe. L4
Edm. Strike of my head, base traitor, I dene thee.
King. My lord, he is my vnckle, and shall Hue.
Mor. iu. My lord, he is your enemie, and shall die.
Edmund. Staie, villaines. 2385

King. Sweete mother, if I cannot pardon him,

Intreate my lord Protector for his life.
Qu. Sonne, be content, I dare not speake a worde.
King. Nor I, and yet me thinkes I should commaund.

But seeing I cannot, ile entreate for him. — 2390

My lord, if you will let my vnckle Hue,

I will requite it when I come to age.
Mort. iu. Tis for your highnesse good, and for the realmes. —

How often shall I bid you beare him hence ?
Edm. Art thou king, must I die at thy commaund ? 2395

2369 Dare ORCW F— V. 2371 with him B.

2376 A] He D— R CW FP ; ta'en F. 2395 a king 34.

EDWARD II 89

Mort. iu. At our commaund ; — once more, away with him.
Edm. Let me but stay and speake ; I will not go.
. Either my brother or his sonne is king,

And none of both them thirst for Edmunds bloud ;

And therefore, soldiers, whether will you hale me ? 2400
They hale Edmund away, and carle him to be beheaded.
King. What safetie may I looke for at his hands,

If that my.Vnckle shall be murthered thus ?
Queen. Feare not, sweet e boye, ile garde thee from thy foes :

Had Edmund liu'de, he would haue sought thy death.

Come, sonne, weele ride a hunting in the parke. 2405
King. And shall my Vnckle Edmund ride with vs ?
Queene. He is a traitor, thinke not on him ; come. L5

Exeunt omnes.

Enter Matr. and Gurney.

Matr. Gurney, I wonder the king dies not,
Being in a vault vp to the knees in water,
To which the channels of the castell runne, 2410

From whence a dampe continually ariseth
That were enough to poison any man,
Much more a king brought vp so tenderlie.

Gurn. And so do I, Matreuis ; yesternight

I opened but the doore to throw him meate, 2415

And I was almost stifeled with the sauor.

Matr. He hath a body able to endure

More then we can enflict, and therefore now
Let vs assaile his minde another while.

Gurn. Send for him out thence, and I will anger him. 2420

Matr. But stay, whose this ?

Enter Lightborne.

Light. My lord protector greetes you.

[Gives letter.]

Gurn. Whats heere ? I know not how to conster it.

Matr. Gurney, it was left vnpointed for the nonce.

2399 And neither of them SO R; them] then misp. 13.
2408 that the F. 2410 Bastell misp. 34 ; runs 4.
2420 I'll F. 2423 construe 2— V. 2424 'twas F.

90

EDWARD II

Edwardum occidere nolite timere, 2425

Thats his meaning.
Light. Know you this token ? I must haue the king.

[Gives token.}

Matr. I, stay a while ; thou shalt haue answer straight. —

[Confers aside with Gurney.]

This villain's sent to make away the king.
Gurney. I thought as much.
Matr. And when the murders done,

L6 2430

See how he must be handled for his labour :

Pereat iste ; let him haue the king,

What else ? — heere is the keyes, this is the lake.

Doe as you are commaunded by my lord.
Light. I know what I must do, get you away ; 2435

Yet be not farre off, I shall need your helpe ;

See that in the next roome I haue a fier,

And get me a spit, and let it be red hote.
Matre. Very well.

Gurn. Neede you any thing besides ?

Light. What else ? a table and a fetherbed. 2440

Gurn. Thats all ?

Light. I, I ; so, when I call you, bring it in.
Matre. Feare not you that.
Gurn. Heeres a light to go into the dungeon.
Lightbor. So ; — now 2445

Must I about this geare ; nere was there any

So finely handled as this king shalbe. —

Foh, heeres a place in deed, with all my hart.
Edward. Whose there, what light is that, wherefore comes

thou?
Light. To comfort you, and bring you ioyfull newes. 2450

2427 ye D— R CWBEPV.

2433 lake] lock EM (see note) ; key V. 2438 spit] spet 2.
2440 What else ? om. D—R CW P. 2443 you] thou 2— V.
2444 Here is F T ; to om. O RCW P ; these also place a semicolon
after light. 2445 1234 place at beginning of next I.
2449 light's F ; com'st 2 — V.

EDWARD II 91

Edward. Small comfort findes poore Edward in thy lookes.

Villaine, I know thou comst to murther me.
Light. To murther you, my most gratious lorde ?

Farre is it from my hart to do you harme.

The Queene sent me to see how you were vsed, 2455

For she relents at this your miserie.

And what eyes can refraine from shedding teares,

To see a king in this most pittious state ?
Edw. VVeepst thou already ? list a while to me, L7

And then thy heart, were it as Gurneys is, 2460

Or as Matreuis, hewne from the Caucasus,

Yet will it melt, ere I haue done my tale.

This dungeon, where they keepe me, is the sincke

Wherein the filthe of all the castell falles.
Light. O villaines ! 2465

Edw. And there in mire and puddle haue I stood

This ten dayes space ; and least that I should sleepe,

One plaies continually vpon a Drum.

They giue me bread and water, being a king,

So that for want of sleepe and sustenance 247°

My mindes distempered and my bodies numde,

And whether I haue limmes or no, I know not.

O, would my bloud dropt out from euery vaine

As doth this water from my tattered robes.

Tell Isabell the Queene I lookt not thus 2475

When for her sake I ran at tilt in Fraunce,

And there vnhorste the duke of Cleremont.
Light. O, speake no more, my lorde ; this breakes my heart.

Lie on this bed, and rest your selfe a while.
Edw. These lookes of thine can harbor nought but death. 2480

I see my tragedie written in thy browes.

Yet stay a while ; forbeare thy bloudie hande

And let me see the stroke before it comes,

That and euen then when I shall lose my life,

2461 th' F. 2462 it will F. 2467 day' R.
2473 drop DD1SD2 R. 2474 tottered 4 Dl S D2.
2477 Claremont K. 2484 and om. D—Br.

92 EDWARD II

My minde may be more stedfast on my God. 2485

Light. What meanes your highnesse to mistrust me thus ?
Edwa. What meanes thou to dissemble with me thus ?
Light. These handes were neuer stainde with innocent
bloud, L8

Nor shall they now be tainted with a kings.
Edward. Forgiue my thought for hauing such a thought.

2490

One iewell haue I left ; receiue thou this.

[Giving jewel] ,

Still feare I, and I know not whats the cause,

But euerie iointe shakes as I giue it thee.

O, if thou harborst murther in thy hart,

Let this gift change thy minde, and saue thy soule. 2495

Know that I am a king ; oh, at that name

I feele a hell of greefe ; where is my crowne ?

Gone, gone, and doe I remaine aliue ?
Light. Your ouerwatchde, my lord ; lie downe and rest.
Edw. But that greefe keepes me waking, I should sleepe ;

2500

For not these ten daies haue these eyes lids closd.

Now as I speake they fall, and yet with feare

Open againe : O, wherefore sits thou heare ?
Light. If you mistrust me, ile be gon, my lord.
Edw. No, no, for if thou meanst to murther me, 2505

Thou wilt returne againe, and therefore stay.

[Lies down.]
Light. He sleepes.

Edw. 0 let me not die, yet stay, O stay a while.
Light. How now, my Lorde ?
Edw. Something still busseth in mine eares, 2510

2487 mean'st 2 D— V. 2490 my thought] my .fau't F.

2494 harbourest E V.

2498 still remain D O D3 £>4 W F E ; alive om. 34 D1SD9R C.

2500 greefe keepes] thou keep'st O.

2501 eye-lids 4— # E—M. 2503 sitt'st D— KB— V.
2508 yet stay] yet 4 D3 Dt E P M. 2509 m'lord F.
2510 buzz' F.

EDWARD II 98

And tels me, if I sleepe I neuer wake.

This feare is that which makes me tremble thus,

And therefore tell me, wherefore art thou come ?
Light. To rid thee of thy life. — Matreuis, come.
Edw. I am too weake and feeble to resist. — 2515

Assist me, sweete God, and receiue my soule.
Light. Runne for the table. Mx

Edw. O, spare me, or dispatche me in a trice.

[Matreuis brings in a table.]
Light. So, lay the table downe, and stampe on it ;

But not too hard, least that you bruse his body. 2520
Matreuis. I feare mee that this crie will raise the towne,

And therefore let vs take horse, and away.
Light. Tell me, sirs, was it not brauelie done ?
Gurn. Excellent well ; take this for thy rewarde.

Then Gurney stabs Lightborne.

Come, let vs cast the body in the mote, 2525

And beare the kings to Mortimer our lord.

Away.

Exeunt omnes.

Enter Mortimer and Matreuis.

Mortim. iu. 1st done, Matreuis, and the murtherer dead ?
Matr. I, my good Lord ; I would it were vndone.
Mort. iu. Matreuis, if thou now growest penitent, 2530

He be thy ghostly father ; therefore choose,

Whether thou wilt be secret in this,

Or else die by the hand of Mortimer.
Matr. Gurney, my lord, is fled, and will, I feare,

Betray vs both ; therefore let me flie. 2535

Mort. iu. Flie to the Sauages.
Matr. I humblie thanke your honour.

[Exit.]
Mor. iu. As for my selfe, I stand as loues huge tree,

2520 least that you] least thou O R C W F ; lest that thou P.

2523 it] is 2 ; [th] is F.

2530 now om, 34 ; grow'st D3 Z>4 K F T M V.

2536 th' F.

94 EDWARD II

And others are but shrubs compard to me.

All tremble at my name, and I feare none. 2540

Lets see who dare impeache me for his death !

Enter the Queene. M2

Queen. A, Mortimer, the king my sonne hath news

His fathers dead, and we haue murdered him.
Mor. iu. What if he haue ? the king is yet a childe.
Queene. I, I, but he teares his haire, and wrings his handes,

2545
And vowes to be reuengd vpon vs both.

Into the councell chamber he is gone

To craue the aide and succour of his peeres.

Aye me, see where he comes, and they with him.

Now, Mortimer, begins our tragedie. 2550

Enter the king, with the lords.

Lords. Feare not, my lord ; know that you are a king.

King. Villaine.

Mori. iu. How now, my lord ?

King. Thinke not that I am frighted with thy words.
My father's murdered through thy treacherie, 2555

And thou shalt die, and on his mournefull hearse
Thy hatefull and accursed head shall lie,
To witnesse to the world that by thy meanes
His kingly body was too soone interrde.

Qu. Weepe not, sweete sonne. 2560

King. Forbid not me to weepe, he was my father.
And had you lou'de him halfe so well as I,
You could not beare his death thus patiently.
But you, I feare, conspirde with Mortimer.

Lords. Why speake you not vnto my lord the king ? 2565

Mor. iu. Because I thinke scorne to be accusde.

2542 A] Oh O. 2545 I, I] Ay OD3— W F— V.

2549 Ah me D Dl O D2 R C W P.

2553 How] Ho 2 D3 Z)4 K— TMV.

2554 frightened OR. 2559 too] so D1SD2.
2561 me not BE P. 2566 think it E V; be so 5.

EDWARD II 95

Who is the man dare say I murderedd him ? M3

King. Traitor, in me my louing father speakes,

And plainely saith, twas thou that murdredst him.
Mort. iu. But hath your grace no other proof e then this ?

2570
King. Yes, if this be the hand of Mortimer.

[Showing letter. .]
Mortim. iu. False Gurney hath betraide me and himself e.

[Aside to the queen.]
Queen. I feard as much, murther cannot be hid.

[Aside to Mortimer.}

Mort. iu. Tis my hand ; what gather you by this ?
King. That thither thou didst send a murtherer. 2575
Mort. iu. What murtherer ? bring foorth the man I sent.
King. A, Mortimer, thou knowest that he is slaine ;

And so shalt thou be too ; — why staies he heere ?

Bring him vnto a hurdle, drag him foorth,

Hang him, I say, and set his quarters vp, 2580

But bring his head back presently to me.
Queen. For my sake, sweete sonne, pittie Mortimer.
Mort. iu. Madam, intreat not ; I will rather die

Then sue for life vnto a paltrie boye.

King. Hence with the traitor, with the murderer. 2585
Mort. iu. Base fortune, now I see that in thy wheele

There is a point, to which when men aspire,

They tumble hedlong downe ; that point I touchte,

And seeing there was no place to mount vp higher,

Why should I greeue at my declining fall ? — 2590

Farewell, faire Queene, weepe not for Mortimer,

That scornes the world, and as a traueller

Goes to discouer countries yet vnknowne.
King. What, suffer you the traitor to delay ?

[Mortimer is taken out to execution.]

2567 dares 2— D^KBE V.

2569 murdrest 2 — D1 D2; murderest O R; murdered S; murderedst
Dz ; murder'dst D^—KB— V.

2570 has B E V. 2574 It is JDa £>4 W— TMV.
2577 A] AyDD1OD2RCWFP; know'stD— FTPM.

p

96 EDWARD II

Queen. As them receiuedst thy life from me, 2595

Spill not the bloud of gentle Mortimer. M4

King. This argues that you spilt my fathers bloud,

Els would you not intreate for Mortimer.
Queen. I spill his bloud ? no.

King. I, madam, you, for so the rumor runnes. 2600

Queen. That rumor is vntrue ; for louing thee

Is this report raisde on poore Isabell.
King. I doe not thinke her so vnnaturall.
Lords. My lord, I feare me it will prooue too true.
King. Mother, you are suspected for his death, 2605

And therefore we commit you to the Tower,

Till further triall may be made thereof.

If you be guiltie, though I be your sonne,

Thinke not to finde me slack or pitifull.
Qu. Nay, to my death, for too long haue I liued, 2610

When as my sonne thinkes to abridge my daies.
King. Awaye with her, her wordes inforce these teares,

And I shall pitie her if she speake againe.
Queen. Shall I not moorne for my beloued lord ?

And with the rest accompanie him to his graue ? 2615
Lords. Thus, madam, tis the kings will you shall hence.
Quee. He hath forgotten me ; stay, I am his mother.
Lords. That bootes not ; therefore, gentle madam, goe.
Queen. Then come, sweete death, and rid me of this greefe.
[Exit with Attendants. Mortimer's head is

brought in.]

Lords. My lord, here is the head of Mortimer. 2620

King. Goe fetche my fathers hearse, where it shall lie,

And bring my funerall robes ; accursed head,

[Exeunt Attendants.]

Could I haue rulde thee then, as I do now, M5

Thou hadst not hatcht this monstrous treacherie ! —

Heere comes the hearse ; helpe me to moorne, my lords.

2625

2595 receivedest D3 — V. 2599 no om. 34.

2607 farther D— R C W F— V; may om. 34.
2615 his] the 34. 2617 forgot F.

EDWARD II 97

[Re-enter Attendants, with hearse, etc.]
Sweete father, heere vnto thy murdered ghost
I offer vp this wicked traitors head.
And let these teares, distilling from mine eyes,
Be witnesse of my greefe and innocencie.

[Exeunt.]

FINIS.

Imprinted at London for William

Ihones, and are to be solde at his

shop, neere vnto Houlborne

Conduit. 1594.

2626 ghost] head O. 2627 head] ghost O.

2629 innocence!) — RK.

LIST OF IMPORTANT DATES

Edward II born . . ... 1284

Betrothed to Isabella . . ... 1303

Gaveston first banished . ... 1307

Death of Edward I, and accession of Edward II . . 1307

Gaveston returns and is made Earl of Cornwall . . 1307

Betrothal of Gaveston to Margaret of Gloucester. . 1307

Imprisonment of Langton, Bishop of Coventry . . 1307

Marriage of Edward and Isabella of France . . 1308
Gaveston banished a second time, and made Regent

of Ireland . . ... 1308
Gaveston returns . . ... 1309
Meeting of the Barons and establishment of a Regency 1310
Gaveston banished for the third time . . . 1311
Gaveston returns secretly . . . .1311
War breaks out between the Barons and Edward . 1312
Gaveston is taken prisoner and put to death . . 1312
Prince Edward born . . ... 1312
Battle of Bannockburn . . . .1314
The younger Despenser becomes favourite . . c. 1319
Banishment of the Despensers . . . 1321
Edward's campaign against the Barons . . .1321-2
Lancaster beheaded, and the Mortimers imprisoned , 1322
Mortimer the younger escapes . ... 1324
Kent goes to France . ... 1325
Isabella goes to France, ostensibly as Edward's repre-
sentative . . ... 1325
Prince Edward, to do homage for the Duchy of

Aquitaine, goes to France . ... 1325

Isabella and her supporters land in England . . 1326

99

100

EDWARD II

The two Despensers and Baldock put to death, and

Edward II taken . . ... 1326

Edward II deposed, and Prince Edward crowned

Edward III . ... 1327

Edward II murdered . ... 1327

Kent put to death . . ... 1330

Mortimer hanged . . ... 1330

The extracts from Holinshed in the following notes are taken
from the edition of 1586. The references to the works of Kyd,
Peele, Lyly, Greene, and Shakespeare are to the following
editions respectively : Boas, Bullen, Bond, Dyce, and The
Globe. Passages from the other works of Marlowe are always
cited according to Tucker Brooke's edition, unless otherwise
stated. The various editors of Edward II are referred to in
accordance with the list earlier given. No particular attempt
has been made to point out how Marlowe differed from his
sources. The point is touched upon in a few places, and a
general discussion of it is contained in the Introduction, but
inasmuch as full extracts are given from Holinshed and his
other authorities, it did not seem necessary to take up the
minuter details of the question.

NOTES

I. My father is deceast. Scene i. A street in London, see
1. 10 (Dyce). The early editions do not mark act and scene
divisions, which are first made in ed. of 1826. Dyce returned
to the practice of the quartos, giving, however, scene divisions
and locations in his notes. Most later editors follow the 1826
edition in making divisions. All such divisions are merely
conjectural when not recorded in early copies. It is not always
easy to determine for plays of Marlowe's period just what the
value of an act division was as regards the performance of the
drama. There is little to indicate the use of the intermission
as a means of regulating the progress of the action and the
development of the plot, as at present (see the article cited
Introduction, p. Ixxix , n. 2). We cannot prove in the case of
Edward II that Marlowe thought of his material as divisible
into distinct blocks, each filling an act. Act divisions occur in
Tamburlaine, The Jew of Malta, and Dido, but not in Faustus or
The Massacre at Paris. In dividing Edward II modern editors
are compelled to make acts of very unequal lengths ; thus iii.
is less than half as long as i. and v., and iv. is but little more
than half as long. Where we do find such divisions in Marlowe,
however, the acts are more nearly uniform in length, there being
only one act (2 Tamb., ii.) that is very short as compared with
other acts in the same play. Fischer seems to think, Kunstent-
wicklung der Engl. Tragodie, 145 ff., that because Edward II
falls more or less naturally into five subdivisions, therefore
Marlowe had divided it into acts coincident with these sub-
divisions. But the inference is not necessarily correct. Luick,
for instance, objects to the divisions Fischer makes ' im Sinne
Gustav Freytags/ and proposes others (Festgabe fur Heinzel,

Marlowe has omitted to dramatize the first banishment of
Gaveston. " In the three and thirtith yeare of his reigne, king
Edward put his sonne prince Edward in prison, bicause that he
had riotouslie broken the parke of Walter Langton bishop of

103

104

EDWARD II

Chester ; and bicause the prince had doone this deed by the
procurement of a lewd and wanton person, one Peers Gavaston,
an esquire of Gascoine, the king banished him the realme, least
the prince, who delighted much in his companie, might by his
evill and wanton counsell fall to evill and naughtie rule."
Holinshed, 313. See note, 1. 82.

3. Surfet with delight. Of this unpleasant figure Marlowe
appears to have been fond ; compare the instances cited by
Carpenter, Metaphor and Simile in the Minor Eliz. Drama, 1895,
45 (Tamburlaine, 2721 ; Faustus, 24-5, 106, 1367 ; Massacre at
Paris, 959-60, 1166-7).

5. The favorit of a king. Tzschaschel, Marlowe's Edward II
und seine Quellen, 1902, p. 34, criticizes Marlowe because he has
not anywhere made clear to us why Edward should have so
deep an affection for Gaveston. " The poet does not tell us,"
he says, " that Gaveston had been Edward's youthful associate,
or that he had deserved the prince's lasting gratitude by render-
ing him any service." " So fehlt der Grundlage des Ganzen die
rechte Natiirlichkeit und Wahrscheinlichkeit." Certainly this
is excessive blame. A dramatist is not bound to supply a
logically formulated first cause to account for the passions of
his characters, any more than our friends are bound to demon-
strate to our satisfaction why they marry the women they do.
The explanation demanded is to be looked for in Edward's own
character (compare Introduction, p. cv-cvi) . If we find there, as
it seems to me we do, that Gaveston's position as favourite
rests upon Edward's imperious craving for personal friendship,
Marlowe does everything perhaps that we can ask by making us
feel that element in the king's nature strongly. If, again, the
favourite can give, as Gaveston does give, what the prince
craves, it is idle to insist that we are not made to understand
their relation. We understand why Hamlet's mother married
Claudius, yet we are not given much information of the kind
here asked for. Tzschaschel's criticism is probably ultimately
derived from Ulrici, Shakespeare's Dram. Art (Bohn translation,
II, 322), and is of a piece with that writer's other strictures upon
Edward II.

8. Leander. The story of Hero and Leander is one of the
most famous of Greek love-stories. Leander dwelt at Abydos
on the Hellespont, opposite Sestos, where dwelt Hero, a priestess
of Aphrodite. They became enamoured of each other, and

NOTES 105

Leander swam the Hellespont nightly in the pursuit of ' Venus'
nun/ as Marlowe calls Hero in his translation of a Greek poem
long attributed to the old poet Musaeus, but now known to
belong to a later time than his. In that translation Leander did
not ' gasp upon the sand/ however.

" By this Leander being nere the land,
Cast downe his wearie feet, and felt the sand.
Breathlesse albeit he were, he rested not/' etc.

Hero and Leander, Sest. ii., 227-9.

14. Die. It will be noticed that most modern editors have
followed the reading ' lie/ introduced by Scott. Tancock
suggests that ' die ' was possibly a " misprint caused by the d
of ' dear ' in the line above," and thinks that Bullen's inter-
pretation of ' die ' as equivalent to ' swoon ' makes poor sense.
Bullen, however, is undoubtedly correct ; the quartos are
unanimous in their reading, and ' die ' is constantly used in
Elizabethan literature in this signification. The word ' lifeless '
as applied to a person in a swoon has hardly yet gone out of use.
Compare Antony and Cleopatra, I, ii. 144 ff. : " Cleopatra,
catching but the least noise of this, dies instantly ; I have seen
her die twenty times upon far poorer moment." Ga vest on
means : upon whose bosom let me swoon with pleasure. The
relation between Gaveston and the king is one of friendship ;
yet Marlowe constantly puts into the mouths of Gaveston and
Edward the language of love (compare the ' amorous ' of 1. 6,
and the whole tone of 11. 400-37), thereby giving characteristic
expression to the effeminate and yet passionate nature of the
king. Taken thus, the line not merely yields excellent sense,
but pays tribute to Marlowe's power of characterization.

16. What neede. Franz, Shakespeare-Grammatik, 1900, p. 157,
remarks the frequent use of ' what ' as equivalent to ' why ' in
questions to which the speaker expects a negative answer
corresponding to his own attitude or sentiments. Especially
frequent is its occurrence with the verb ' need/ as in 11. 247, 777.
Artick. This seems to be the regular form in the Marlowe
quartos (cf. Tamburlaine, 2354). The latest example of this
form given in N.E.D. is from 1678. Incidentally, Marlowe
takes a less pleasing view of the Arctic regions in Tamburlaine,
17-19 :

" the bounds

Of Europe, wher the Sun dares scarce appeare^
For freezing meteors and coniealed colde."

106

EDWARD II

18. Base stooping. ' Base ' is used in its original sense of
' low ' (Fr. bas), with, however, doubtless a glance at its secondary
meaning of ' ignoble.' Compare Richard II, III, iii. 180-1 :

" In the base court ? Base court, where kings grow base,
To come at traitors' calls and do them grace/'

20-1. Sparkes, Rakt up in embers. No figure is more common
in Elizabethan literature than this, yet none, I suppose, has
passed more completely out of use. In fact, the figure is not
perfectly clear to readers of the present day unless they re-
member that our ancestors were not able to light fires as readily
as we are, and their practice was to preserve the fire on the
hearth from day to day by raking the ashes over the glowing
coals at night.

22. Tanti: — Ilefanne first on the winde. Dyce and other editors
think that " something has dropped out from this line," but it is
not necessary to take this view, as there are a number of similar
lines in the play (cf. 25, 49, 50, 208, 798, 867, 941, 950,
1218, 1270). Most of these can be read with four accents, though
some of them scan with difficulty. See the note on 26 below.
The frequency of lines of four feet in Greene's work is noted by
Brereton, Elizabethan Drama, 1909, 23.

' Tanti ' is an expression of contempt (gen. sing, of tantum),
' so much for that.' It was very common in the Elizabethan
period, and N.E.D. gives one or two instances from the nine-
teenth century.

' Fan ' is, according to N.E.D. , a dialectical form of ' fawn,'
though it is not given in the Dialect Dictionary. Elsewhere we
have ' fawn,' 11. 439, 440. ' Fanne ' may easily be a misprint
for ' faune,' a quite possible Elizabethan spelling.

24. But how now, what are these ? A very interesting parallel
to the following passage is noted by Tancock from Lear, I, iv.
10 ff. Kent in disguise offers himself to Lear's service, and the
latter asks him questions of a character much like those asked
by Ga vest on. Compare also Greene's James IV, I, ii., in which
Ateukin hires Nano, Slipper, and Andrew. An element of
humour only suggested in Gaveston's lines is present in the other
scenes, and all are founded directly upon the everyday life of
Elizabethan London.

26-30. What canst thou doe . . . do well. This passage is
typical of Marlowe's frequent practice of introducing in rapid

NOTES 107

dialogue one or more short lines that cannot be considered as
parts of a regular pentameter and that often can be scanned
with great difficulty, if at all. These often take the character of
exclamations ; sometimes they are replies to servants, and the
like. They serve to lend vividness to a passage, though they tend
to destroy its rhythmical quality. Compare 11. 201, 219, 282-3,
435 > 438, etc. See notes on 22, 167, and on all these exceptional
scansions. Compare Schipper, De Versu Marlovii, 1867, 18-21 ;
Mayor, Chapters on English Metre, 2nd ed., 1901, 162-7.

31. At my trencher. Fleay thinks that these words are an
interpolation, on the ground that they spoil the metre. Schipper,
u.s., however, has pointed out in Tamburlaine the existence of
lines with six accents. If we could transpose ' to wait ' to the
end of 1. 30, both lines would be given five accents.

35. Hospitals. These were homes for disabled soldiers.

40. Porpintine, i.e. porcupine. The word appears in various
forms in earlier literature, such as ' porkpin,' ' porpin/ ' pur-
pintine/ ' porkenpick,' etc. ; the superstition here referred to,
which Marlowe doubtless shared, is well known.

50. These are not men for me. The following lines are an
expansion of hints afforded by Holinshed (see under 1. 154),
but the expansion is itself characteristic of an important aspect
of Marlowe's poetic genius. "It is by right of this quality [his
' overpowering sense of beauty '] that Marlowe claims to be the
hierophant in England of that Pagan cult of beauty which
characterized the Italian Renaissance. We find it in Tambur-
laine's passion for Xenocrate, in the visions of Faustus and his
familiars, in the description of Helen, in the jewels of Barabas,
in the sports described by Gaveston in Edward II. But it is in
Hero and Leander," etc. Wagner, preface to Edward II, 1871,
xii-xiii.

51. Wanton Poets. These are such as would supply the
' lascivious metres ' of Richard II, II, i. 19.

55. Italian maskes. In the sixteenth century the masque
was thought to have had its origin in Italy, but as a matter of
fact, though subject in a degree to Italian influence, it was
really native in origin (Brotanek, Die Englischen Maskenspiele,
1902). Nevertheless, though germs of the masque in the forms
of so-called ' disguisings ' are to be found in the fourteenth

108 EDWARD II

century, the following lines of Marlowe apply, as editors have
noted, to the conditions of his own day, rather than to those of
the time of Edward II, when England's relations with Italy
were in the main ecclesiastical purely. Festivities such as these
projected by Gaveston were exceedingly common after the
accession of Elizabeth, who had a great fondness for them, and
are to be found described in Laneham's Letter, edited by Furnivall
in his Captain Cox, 1871, and in Gascoigne's Princely Pleasures
at Kenilworth Castle.

Faligan, De Marlovianis Fabulis, 1887, 190, rather fancifully
suggests that Elizabeth may have taken offence because Marlowe,
in developing Gaveston's plans for seducing the king from the
path of duty, should have enumerated " ludos et spectacula
quae tune in aula vigebant."

59. Grazing, i.e. straying over, derived from the meaning
' tending cattle while grazing.'

60. Antick hay, that is, a grotesque country dance. ' Antic/
a variant of ' antique/ passed through the meaning ' old ' to
that of ' old-fashioned/ hence ' quaint, grotesque/

61. Boye in Dians shape. There were no actresses in England
at this time, and women's parts were taken by boys and youths
trained for the purpose. In 1629 a troop of French actors and
actresses came over, but were very ill received, so strong was the
prejudice against the appearance of women on the stage. Even
after the Restoration the practice of having women's parts
taken by women was established in the face of great opposition.

* Shape ' means costume, and was a common word in this
sense down to the nineteenth century.

63. Crownets. ' Crownet ' is a contracted form of ' coronet/
as ' crown ' is of ' corona ' and ' crowner ' of ' coroner/ Here
the word is equivalent to ' bracelet/ as in the anonymous Lust's
Dominion (a play that has been attributed to Marlowe, and that
contains many imitations of him), I, i. :

" And with coronets of pearl
And bells of gold, circling their pretty arms/' etc.

Crawford, Collectanea, I, 2-3, 7, notes that the whole of 1. 63,
except for the change of ' his ' to ' thy/ is repeated in Barnfield's
Affectionate Shepherd. See Arber's reprint, p. 8.

64. Olive tree, that is, olive-branch. I have not found any
parallels to this use of ' tree/ ' Tree ' is often used, dialectically

NOTES 109

and otherwise, in the sense of ' cross/ ' beam/ ' wood ' (i.e. the
material), but not apparently in the sense of ' branch/ N.E.D.
gives only the usual meaning for the compound ' olive-tree/

67. AcUeon, having by chance espied Diana bathing in a
spring, was by the angry goddess transformed to the likeness of
a deer, and was thereupon pursued and slain by his own hounds.
See Ovid, Metamorphoses, Hi. 155 ff.

70. And seeme. The construction may perhaps best be under-
stood by supplying ' shall ' (from 1. 68) before ' seeme/

71-2. His maiestie, My lord. The punctuation adopted in
the text is that of Tucker Brooke, and is undoubtedly correct
unless we are to follow McLaughlin's suggestion that 11. 72-3
are " probably a prose addition to the speech, added for dramatic
purposes by another hand/' Certainly these lines cannot easily
be scanned.

Comes. There are hundreds of cases in Elizabethan writers
in which a verb in -s or -th is found with a plural subject (e.g.
either a plural noun, or a series of nouns, or a relative pronoun
with a plural antecedent). The usage has been explained on the
basis of the influence of the Northern dialect, in which there
were -s and -th plurals (e.g. Franz, Shakespeare-Grammatik, 404).
It has also been explained as due to the great predominance
in daily usage of the third person singular present indicative
(Smith, Publ. Mod. Lang. Ass., 1896, 363 ; but see Bang,
Englische Studien, xxviii. 455). There is no doubt that in
special cases (e.g. when as in this instance the verb precedes, or
when the subject, plural in form, is singular in meaning) the
verb may easily be understood as singular. In general, the
problem may be stated as follows : (a) Are verbs in -s and -th
with plural subjects to be classified as singulars or plurals ?
(b) If singulars, what considerations governed their use ? (c) If
plurals, how did Elizabethan English come to possess plurals in
-s and -th ?

Marlowe uses these forms frequently. In the present play,
see 11. 336, 427, 653-4, 971' IX3o, 1724* J745> 1812, 1971, 2022,
2031, 2265-6, 2268. Compare Schau, Sprache und Grammatik
der Dramen Marlowes, 1901, 72-4.

73. st. Air. Mortimer senior, Mortimer junior, Edmund Earle of
Kent. None of these three was concerned in the struggle against
Gaveston. Edmund of Woodstock, earl of Kent, Edward's

110

EDWARD II

half-brother, was not born until 1301, and was hence at this
time only about six years of age. The Mortimers were powerful
barons on the Welsh border, but Holinshed's narrative takes no
account of them until some years after Gaveston's death. For
obvious dramatic reasons Marlowe has introduced them into
this part of the play and has concentrated attention upon the
younger Mortimer, making him practically the leader of Gave-
ston's opponents.

82. Mine unckle heere, this Earle, 6- / my selfe.

" This erle of Lincolne was buried in the new worke at Paules
[1310]. Lieng on his death bed, he requested (as was reported)
Thomas earle of Lancaster, who had married his daughter, that
in any wise he should stand with the other lords in defense of
the commonwelth, and to mainteine his quarell against the earle
of Cornewall, which request earle Thomas faithfullie accom-
plished : for by the pursute of him, and of the earle of Warwike
cheefelie, the said earle of Cornewall was at length taken and
beheaded (as after shall appeare). Some write that king Edward
the first upon his death-bed, charged the earles of Lincolne,
Warwike, and Penbroke, to foresee that the foresaid Peers
returned not againe into England, least by his evill example he
might induce his sonne the prince to lewdnesse, as before he had
alreadie doone." (Holinshed, 320.)

83. Sworne. This is to be scanned ' swor(e)n.' Compare
' earl,' 156, ' Mowberie ' (Mowbray), in, ' mushrump,' 578,
' gentrie,' 1039, ' deeply/ 1846, etc. Other cases in which a
single syllable is expanded into two for metrical purposes are
illustrated by ' affections,' 445, ' poniard,' 560, ' minions,' 684.
In these and all similar instances Marlowe was merely employ-
ing licences practised by all Elizabethan poets.

go. Mori. dieu. Foreign oaths and ejaculations were
common in the mouths of Elizabethan dramatis personae ; see
1. 612. So ' corpo di deo,' Jew of Malta, 323 ; ' cazzo, diabolo,'
ibid., 1528 ; ' Mor du,' i.e. ' Mort dieu,' Massacre at Paris, 694 ;
' Rivo,' i Henry IV, II, iv. 124 (compare ' Rivo Castiliano/
Jew of Malta, 1930).

91. Well, Mortimer, He make thee rue these words. Keller,
Shakespeare Jahrbuch, xxxv. 22, compares with this line several
similar expressions in the old Richard II, as when the angry

NOTES 111

Richard, speaking of his nobles, says : " We'le make them weepe
these wrongs in bloody teares."

93. Aspiring Lancaster. Tan cock compares 3 Henry VI,
V, vi. 61 :

" What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
Sink in the ground ? I thought it would have mounted."

102. Foure Earldomes. See note under 1534.

108. To the proofe, i.e. to the point, effectively. There is no
historical basis for the following lines, unless we are to think,
with Tancock, that they are " an echo of the real quarrel between
Hereford and Mowbray in the reign of Richard II." If an echo,
they are a very distant one ; Richard had no love for Hereford,
and there was no reconciliation.

118. Preach. In the third edition of Dodsley it was suggested
to substitute ' perch/ Compare 1. 1308 and Fleay's interpreta-
tion of 1. 1315.

122. / cannot, nor I will not. For the double negative, see 1.
222 ; it was good English in Marlowe's day. With the outbreak
of Mortimer, compare that of Hotspur, I Henry IV, I, iii. 130 ff. :

" Speak of Mortimer !
'Zounds, I will speak of him," etc.

It is indeed no rash assumption that Marlowe's Mortimer fur-
nished the model for Shakespeare's Hotspur. The latter, no
doubt, is the nobler figure and the better drawn, but the two
conceptions are at bottom practically identical. Beyond the
name Hotspur and the remark that he was a lord of a high spirit,
Holinshed supplied little for the figure of Henry Percy. Shake-
speare was doubtless equal to the creation of a character like
Hotspur out of slighter hints than these ; but when we find that
character anticipated in its main outlines in the work of a
dramatist whose influence upon Shakespeare everyone admits
to have been very great indeed, we are justified in thinking that
it may not have been an entirely independent creation.

123. Cosin. The word ' cousin ' in Elizabethan English
denoted no precise degree of relationship ; Mortimer was dis-
tantly related to Edward through his mother, who was " a kins-
woman of Eleanor of Castile " (D.N.B.).

128. Love. Dyce's conjecture, ' leave ' for ' love,' is quite
unnecessary, as Warwick's speech is to be taken ironically.
Q

112

EDWARD II

The same thing is to be said of his conjecture ' Lancaster ' for
' Gaveston,' in the next line.

134-6. I cannot brooke . . . field. With this passage Keller,
Shakespeare Jahrbuch, xxxv. 23, compares the words of Richard
in the old Richard II : "I cannot brooke these braues, let dromes
sound death."

144. Hilas. When Hercules went with Jason and the other
Greek heroes in search of the Golden Fleece, he was accom-
panied by a beloved youth named Hylas. The Argonauts
touched at Mysia, whereupon Hylas went on shore to draw
water and was carried off by the nymphs, who fell in love with
his beauty. Hercules mourned his loss with loud outcries.

145. Exile. The noun ' exile ' was often accented on the
second syllable. See 11. 179, 192. So with the verb ' envy.'
See 1. 163.

150. High minded, i.e. proud-minded. So ' high-minded
strumpet/ i Henry VI, I, v. 12, as noted by Verity, Influence of
Marlowe upon Shakespeare, Harness Prize Essay, 1886, 106.

151. / have my wish, etc. Crawford, Shakespeare Jahrbuch,
xxxix. 80, compares Arden of Feversham, V, i. 342 (ed. Bayne,
1897) : "I have my wish in that I joy thy sight." Crawford
remarks that " there are at least thirty passages of Arden of
Feversham which were directly inspired by Marlowe's Edward II,"
but he gives only four (which will be found below in their appro-
priate places). On p. 81 he says that while Soliman and Perseda
" plainly imitates Edward II," " Arden of Feversham does so only
in a faint manner." This difference of manner he takes on p. 82
as showing that Arden is later than Soliman and Perseda, while
both are later than 1590, " before which time Edward II cannot
be said to have existed."

154. Lord high Chamberlaine. " But now concerning the
demeanour of this new king, whose disordered maners brought
himselfe and manie others unto destruction ; we find that in
the beginning of his governement, though he was of nature given
to lightnesse, yet being restreined with the prudent advertise-
ments of certeine of his councellors, to the end he might shew
some likelihood of good proofe, he counterfeited a kind of
gravitie, vertue and modes tie ; but yet he could not throughlie
be so bridled, but that f oorthwith he began to plaie divers wanton

NOTES 113

and light parts, at the first indeed not outragiouslie, but by
little and little, and that cover tlie. For having revoked againe
into England his old mate the said Peers de Gaveston, he received
him into most high favour, creating him earle of Cornewall, and
lord of Man, his principall secretarie, and lord chamberlaine of
the realme, through whose companie and societie he was suddenlie
so corrupted, that he burst out into most heinous vices ; for then
using the said Peers as a procurer of his disordered dooings, he
began to have his nobles in no regard, to set nothing by their
instructions, and to take small heed unto the good governement
of the commonwealth, so that within a while, he gave himselfe
to wantonnes, passing his time in voluptuous pleasure, and
riotous excesse : and to helpe them forward in that kind of life,
the foresaid Peers, who (as it may be thought, he had sworne to
make the king to forget himselfe, and the state, to the which he
was called) furnished his court with companies of jesters, ruffians,
flattering parasites, musicians, and other vile and naughtie
ribalds, that the king might spend both daies and nights in
jesting, plaieng, banketing, and in such other filthie and dis-
honorable exercises : and moreover, desirous to advance those
that were like to himselfe, he procured for them honorable
offices, all which notable preferments and dignities, sith
they were ill bestowed, were rather to be accounted dis-
honorable than otherwise, both to the giver and the receiver."
Holinshed, 318.

156. King and lord of Man. The Isle of Man lies between
England and Ireland ; though from the thirteenth century
dependent either upon England or Scotland, its rulers were
called kings and possessed certain royal rights not totally ex-
tinguished until 1829.

162. Therefore, to equall it, receive my hart. Compare Soliman
and Perseda, Kyd, I, ii. 38-40 :

" Let in my hart to keepe thine company.

Ernst. And, sweet Perseda, accept this ring
To equall it : receive my hart to boote."

163-4. Iffor these . . . more. So Richard, in the anonymous
Richard II, heaps dignities upon his favourites in opposition to
the protests of the nobles. See Keller in the article cited, p. 23.

166. Fearst, i.e. fearest for, as in Richard III, I, i. 137 : " And
his physicians fear him mightily."

114

EDWARD II

167. Wants thou. Compare 11. 322, 444, 2503. The sec.
sing. pr. ind. ending -est often appears as -s in Elizabethan
English when the verb ends in -t or when the following word begins
with -ih ; sometimes it is apparently due to the influence of
Northern dialectical forms. See Liese, Flexion des Verbums bei
Spenser, 1891, 8 ; Franz, Shakespeare-Grammatik, 1900, I.

L. 167 is one of a number of nine-syllable lines in the play
(compare 269, 289, 314, 315, 940, 1020, 1026, 1177, 1204, I40I»
1779, 1918, 1930, 2379, 2408, 2453, 2566, 2574, 2595). Mayor,
Chapters on English Metre, 162, notes the existence of this type
in Marlowe. Editors have frequently altered unnecessarily
(see the variants on these lines). Compare the note on 26 above.

171 . It shall suffice me, etc. Thus Greene, in the old Richard II,
after Richard has said that he will defend his favourites against
the nobles, says (see Keller, u.s., p. 23) :

" Thankes, deerest lord ; lett me haue Richards loue,
And like a rocke unmoud my state shall stand."

173-4. ^4s Ccesar . . . triumphant Carre. Compare Peele's
Edward I, scene i. 91 f . :

" Not Caesar, leading through the streets of Rome
The captive kings of conquered nations,
Was in his princely triumphs honoured more," etc.

This parallel is also noticed by Tzschaschel, Marlowe's Edward
II, 46.

177. But is that wicked Gaveston returnd? "Within three
daies after [Edward First's body had been conveyed to the abbey
of Waltham], when the lord treasurer Walter de Langton bishop
of Coventrie and Lichfield (thorough whose complaint Peers de
Gaveston had beene banished the land) was going towards
Westminster, to make preparation for the same buriall, he was
upon commandement from the new king arrested, committed to
prison, and after delivered to the hands of the said Peers, being
then returned againe into the realme, who sent him from castell
to castell as a prisoner. His lands and tenements were seized
to the kings use, but his mooveables were given to the foresaid
Peers." (Holinshed, 318.)

186. Saving your reverence : an expression of excuse, often
contracted into ' sir-reverence.' See Merchant of Venice, II, ii.
27 : "To run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the
fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the devil himself."

188. Channell, i.e. kennel, gutter. Compare 1. 2255.

NOTES 115

198. The fieete. The Fleet Prison, established in the eleventh
century, was not reserved for debtors exclusively until about
the middle of the seventeenth.

200. Conveie. ' Convey ' has here a double sense, that in-
tended by Edward, and that recognized by the Bishop in the
following line. ' To convey ' was good Elizabethan slang for
1 to steal.' " ' Convey ' the wise it call," says Pistol, " ' Steal ! '
foh ! a fico for the phrase." (Merry Wives, I, iii. 32-3.)

205. Againe, that is, back, the original meaning of the word.

208. Tis true. Scene 2. London, near the king's palace
(Tancock). See note on 1. 254.

This scene, extending to 1. 289, and the scene beginning at
1. 295, are based upon the following paragraphs of Holinshed,
319-20, which it seemed best to print together instead of in
different places : " The malice which the lords had conceived
against the earle of Cornewall still increased, the more indeed
through the high bearing of him, being now advanced to honour.
For being a goodlie gentleman and a stout, he would not once
yeeld an inch to any of them, which worthilie procured him great
envie amongst the cheefest peeres of all the realme, as sir Henrie
Lacie earle of Lincolne, sir Guie earle of Warwike, and sir Aimer
de Valence earle of Penbroke, the earles of Glocester, Hereford,
Arundell, and others, which upon such wrath and displeasure
as they had conceived against him, thought it not convenient
to suffer the same any longer, in hope that the kings mind might
happilie be altered into a better purpose, being not altogither
converted into a venemous disposition, but so that it might be
cured, if the corrupter thereof were once banished from him.

" Hereupon they assembled togither in the parlement time
[1308], at the new temple, on saturdaie next before the feast of
saint Dunstan, and there ordeined that the said Peers should
abjure the realme, and depart the same on the morrow after the
Nativitie of saint John Baptist at the furthest, and not to
returne into the same againe at any time then after to come.
To this ordinance the king (although against his will) bicause
he saw himself e and the realme in danger, gave his consent, and
made his letters patents to the said earles and lords, to witnesse
the same.

"The tenour of the kings letters patents.
Notum vobis facimus per praesentes, quod amodo usque ad

116

EDWARD II

diem dominus Petrus de Gaveston regnum nostrum est abiura-
turus & exiturus, videlicet in crastino nativitatis S. lohannis
Baptistae proximo sequenti : nos in quantum nobis est nihil
faciemus, nee aliquid fieri permittemus, per quod exilium dicti
domini Petri in aliquo poterit impediri, vel protelari, quin
secundum formam a praelatis, comitibus, & baronibus regni
nostri, ordinatam, & per nos libero consensu confirmatam,
plenarie perficiatur. In cuius rei testimonium has literas nostras
fieri fecimus patentes. Datum apud Westm. 18 die Maij. Anno
regni nostri primo.

" These letters were read, heard, and allowed in the presence
of all the Noble men of this land, the day and yeare abovesaid.
The archbishop of Canturburie, being latelie returned from
Rome, where he had remained in exile in the late deceassed
kings daies for a certeine time, did pronounce the said Peers
accursed, if he taried within the realme longer than the appointed
time, and likewise all those that should aid, helpe, or mainteine
him, as also if he should at any time hereafter returne againe
into the land. To conclude, this matter was so followed, that at
length he was constreined to withdraw himselfe to Bristow, and
so by sea as a banished man to saile into Ireland.

" The king being sore offended herewith, as he that favoured
the earle more than that he could be without his companie,
threatned the lords to be revenged for this displeasure, and
ceassed not to send into Ireland unto Peers, comforting him both
with freendlie messages, and rich presents, and as it were to
shew that he meant to reteine him still in his favour, he made
him ruler of Ireland as his deputie there. A wonderfull matter
that the king should be so inchanted with the said earle, and
so addict himselfe, or rather fix his hart upon a man of such a
corrupt humor, against whome the heads of the noblest houses
in the land were bent to devise his overthrow. . . .

" The lords perceiving the kings affection, and that the
treasure was spent as lavishlie as before, thought with them-
selves that it might be that the king would both amend his
passed trade of life, and that Peers being restored, home, would
rather advise him thereto, than follow his old maners, considering
that it might be well perceived, that if he continued in the
incouraging of the king to lewdnesse, as in times past he had
doone, he could not thinke but that the lords would be readie to
correct him, as by proofe he had now tried their meanings to be
no lesse. Hereupon to reteine amitie, as was thought on both

NOTES 117

sides, Peers by consent of the lords was restored home againe
(the king meeting him at Chester) to his great comfort and
rejoising for the time, although the malice of the lords was such,
that such joy lasted not long."

213. Timeles, that is, untimely, the meaning it usually bears
in Marlowe and Shakespeare (compare Tamburlaine, 4645 ;
Massacre, 46 ; Richard II, IV, i. 5 ; and see Schmidt's Lexicon).
Ward, commenting on Marlowe's fondness for the suffix less in
his edition of Faustus and Friar Bacon, p. 200, interprets the
passage cited above from Tamburlaine somewhat differently,
taking ' timeless ' as ' of which time cannot destroy the memory.'
Century Dictionary cites the present line from Edward II under
' timeless ' as meaning ' unmarked by time ; eternal/ A number
of Marlowe's adjectives in less are collected by Vogt, Das Ad-
jektiv bei Marlowe, 14, 18-19, 46.

214. Peevish, that is, ' trifling, silly,' as in I Henry VI, V, iii.
186:

" I will not so presume
To send such peevish tokens to a king."

232. Take exceptions at. The modern idiom is ' take exception
to/ and it has not so strong a meaning as Mortimer senior gives
it. Compare 1. 764, where it has the modern sense, and Two
Gentlemen of Verona, I, iii. 81 : " Lest he should take exceptions
to my love."

233. Stomach, i.e. be angry at. See 1. 1056.

234. Bewraies, i.e. reveals, exposes. Compare 1. 241.

236. Weele. We should expect ' we'd/ i.e. ' we would/
This use of the indicative after a contrary to fact conditional
clause is, however, not uncommon. See 1. 325. So in Pilgrimage
to Parnassus, I, 61-4 :

" If I were younge who now am waxen oulde, . . .
He be a scholler, though I live but poore."

Greene and Lodge, Looking-glass for London, 11. 487-8 :

" For were a goddesse fairer then am I,
He scale the heavens to pull her from the place."

(Dyce, in his note, p. 123 of his edition of Greene, compares
Coriolanus, I, ix. 2, in which passage some editors have changed
' Thou't ' to ' Thou'ldst/ Nevertheless, Dyce changes to ' we'd '

118 EDWARD II

in the present line.) A somewhat similar incongruity in Edward
I, scene xvii. 26-7 :

" but for his head, I vowed
I will present our governor with the same,"

and in the present play, 11. 555-6.

249. His peeres. The antecedent of ' his ' is the king, and
' peers ' is used in the special sense in which a ' peer of the realm '
is " a holder of the title of one of the five degrees of nobility-
duke, marquis, earl, viscount, baron.'*

252. st. dir. Enter the Queene. Isabella, daughter of Philip
the Fair of France and born in 1292, had married Edward in
January, 1308, so that at this time she was probably not quite
sixteen. Her love-affair with Mortimer was of a much later
date. See below, under 448, 1539.

254. Unto the forrest. Dyce takes the Queen's words literally,
and is thereby confused as to the location of the scene, which
he is inclined to place at Windsor. She is, of course, as Bullen
has observed, speaking figuratively. With this scene it is interest-
ing to compare Greene's James IV, II, ii. There are a number
of parallels : Isabella — Dorothea ; Archbishop of Canterbury —
Bishop of Saint Andrews ; the two Mortimers, Warwick, and
Lancaster — Douglas, Morton, and others. Moreover, Isabella
takes the king's side unsuccessfully, as does Dorothea. It may
be remarked in general that neither Edward nor James has any
love for his consort ; that in both plays the nobles remonstrate
unsuccessfully with the king because he is governed by flatterers ;
and that in both plays the misgovernment of the king and his
favourites are painted in similar colours. For example, with . 11.
224 if., 695 ff., of Edward II, compare the following lines from
James IV :

" Madam, he sets us light that serv'd in court,
In place of credit, in his father's days :
If we but enter presence of his grace,
Our payment is a frown, a scoff, a frump ;
Whilst flattering Gnatho pranks it by his side,
Soothing the careless king in his misdeeds,", etc.

In the Introduction, pp. cvii.-cviii. I have pointed out resem-
blances in the characters of Isabella and Dorothea.

These points are not sufficient to show indebtedness on either
side, perhaps, but they have some interest in view of the fact
that Greene's source did not represent the king as being misled

NOTES 119

by flatterers, had nothing to say about misgovernment, and
there was no quarrel between him and his nobles ; consequently
there was no ground for the advocacy of his cause on the part of
the queen. Nor could Greene have derived many suggestions
of this kind from the history of James IV's reign, since James
was and was reputed to be an excellent legislator and a successful
administrator ; it is true that his nobles at times quarrelled
with him. These points are pure additions to the original story
as related by Cinthio (see Introduction, p. Ixxviii.), and are not at
all necessary to the conduct of the plot. Hence one is justified
in wondering whether Marlowe's influence is to be seen here.
The relative dates of the two plays are not definitely known,
but Marlowe would hardly have taken any suggestions from
Greene, since everything of the kind in Edward II is accounted
for well enough by the hints and remarks in Holinshed. If there
was borrowing, it was doubtless on the part of Greene, and
James IV would then be the later of the two dramas.

266-7. For we have power . . .full. Keller, u.s., 24, compares
the speech of Lancaster in the old Richard II, when he threatens,
speaking of the king's favourites : "lie be reuengd at full on
all ther Hues."

268. But yet, etc. In assigning this speech to the queen,
Ellis and Verity follow the suggestion of Elze, Notes on Eliz.
Dramatists, 1880, p. 112. Compare notes on 11. 294, 587.

268-9. Lift . . . lift. Nelle, Das Wortspiel im Englischen
Drama vor Shakspere, 1900, 40, calls attention to the play upon
words here.

271. Then let him stay . Holinshed tells us nothing with regard
to what part the queen had in the matter of Ga vest on, but in
connection with the year 1321 he tells us, p. 327, that " the
queene had ever sought to procure peace, love and concord
betwixt the king and his lords." Later, under 1322, p. 332, he
says that " the queene for that she gave good and faithfull
counsell, was nothing regarded, but by the Spensers meanes
cleerelie worne out of the kings favour." Thus in depicting the
character of Isabel (see Introduction, p. cviii.) Marlowe follows
Holinshed much as the authors of the first part of Henry VI
followed the same authority in depicting the character of Joan
of Arc. It is well known that the inconsistent characterization
of Joan in that play is the result of obedience to Holinshed.

120 EDWARD II

In the case of Isabella, however, we are justified in saying that
Marlowe saw the difficulty and endeavoured to overcome it,
though not with perfect success. See note on 1559.

271. Then let him stay, etc. Keller, u.s., 23-4, points out that
Queen Anne, in the anonymous Richard II, undertakes the same
role of peacemaker between the king and his indignant nobles,
and that the dramatist did not find this bit of material in his
sources.

282. The new temple. Tancock quotes from Maitland's
History of London, ii. 967-8 : " The Temple or New Temple is
so called because the Templers before building of this House had
their Temple in Oldbourne. This House was founded by the
Knights Templars in England in the reign of Henry II ...
dedicated in 1185. . . . Many noblemen became brethren . . .
and built themselves Temples in every city. ... In England
this was the chief house, which they built after the Form of the
Temple near to the Sepulchre of our Lord at Jerusalem. . . .
This Temple in London was often made a storehouse of men's
treasure, such as feared the spoil thereof in other places. . . .
Many Parliaments and great Councils have been there kept.
Edward II in 1313 gave to Aimer de la Valence the New Temple.
After Aymer de la Valence [d. 1324] some say that Hugh Spenser
the younger usurping the same held it during his life."

289. /, if words will serve ; if not, I must. Compare 2 Henry
VI, V, i. 139-40 :

" Edw. Ay, noble father, if our words will serve.
Rich. And if words will not, then our weapons shall."

290. Edmund. Scene 3. A street perhaps (Dyce). The
presence of this meaningless scene has been very severely
criticized by writers on Marlowe, and of course in a modern
play it would be a very gross violation of dramatic technique.
From a strictly historical point of view, however, it does not
deserve all of the condemnation it has received, and it shows
simply that Edward II had not emerged entirely out of the story-
telling stage (see Introduction, pp. lii.-lvii.). Speaking of the early
chronicle history, Thorndike says, Tragedy, 85 : "A play was
really a continuous performance, the actors coming and going, a
battle intervening, and now and then a withdrawal of all the
actors and the appearance of a new group presaging a marked
change of place or the beginning of an entirely different action."

NOTES 121

This is not of course an accurate description of Edward II, but
it is of the kind of play which Edward II is the outgrowth.

294. There let them remaine. Ellis and Verity again follow
Elze. See note on 268.

295. Here is the forme. Scene 4. The New Temple (Dyce).
Yet it seems unlikely that all of the action contained in this
scene is supposed to go on at the New Temple. See notes on 11.
400, 481, 717.

302. Are you mov'd that Gaveston sits heere? Keller, U.S.,
observes that in the old Richard II the nobles are likewise
indignant that the king places his favourites beside him on the
day of the coronation.

307. Quam male conveniunt, i.e. how ill they suit. " Was the
poet thinking of Ovid, — ' Non bene conveniunt,' etc., Met. II,
846 ? " (Dyce). McLaughlin thinks there is no reference to
Ovid, but that the phrase is merely one of the Latin pedantries
of the time. When the full passage from Ovid, however, is
quoted, it is seen to have a particular application to the situation :

" Non bene conveniunt nee in una sede morantur
Maiestas et amor."

Marlowe introduced many Latin tags into his plays. Tam-
burlaine, no doubt, is free from them, but compare Faustus, 35,
44, 56, 461, 474, etc., Jew of Malta, 228. In Dido he makes two
quotations from the JEneid, one (1548) of five lines, the other
(1720) of three. In Jew of Malta are two Spanish lines (678,
705). Herein Marlowe did as other dramatists of his day.
Peele's Edward I contains many Latin scraps, as does the
Troublesome Raigne of King John. Locrine, II, v. 87, has a
Latin passage of six lines. Greene's Orlando Furioso has an
Italian passage of eight lines, a Latin one of ten ; Friar Bacon
has a Latin passage of three lines. The Spanish Tragedy, besides
a number of two and three line Latin passages, contains one of
fourteen lines, and an Italian of two lines. See in general,
Dorrinck, Die Lat. Zitate in den Dramen der wichtigsten Vor-
gdnger Shakespeares, 1907. Long passages are of course excep-
tional, but phrases and tags are everywhere to be found, and
the practice of introducing them can be easily traced back into
the earlier drama, e.g. Everyman, Hazlitt's Dodsley, I, pp. 141,
142 ; Hickscorner, ibid., 183 ; so in the miracle plays.

122

EDWARD II

In the drama after Marlowe the long passages practically
disappear, and the short ones become much less numerous,
though they may occur at any time. Such a scene as V, i. of
Jonson's Silent Woman, containing the learned dispute of
Cutbeard and his coadjutor, is the exception, and has of course
its special explanation. The inferences drawn from it by Schnap-
parelle, Die Burgerlichen Stdnde, etc., vornehmlich nach den
Dramen Ben Jonsons, 1908, 14, seem hardly sound, and one can
hardly believe that the ability to understand spoken Latin,
whatever the case with Latin that was read, was as widely
diffused as he thinks.

310. Phaeton. Phaeton was ' Clymene's brainsick son ' (Tam-
burlaine, 1493, 4624). " That almost brent the axletree of
heaven," when his father Helios allowed him to guide the chariot
of the sun (Ovid, Metamorphoses, II, 35 fL).

313. Overpeerd. Mortimer is punning on the words ' to
peer,' i.e. ' to look/ and ' peer,' i.e. of the realm.

321. Were I a king. So Greene, the favourite of Richard in the
anonymous Richard II, after abusing the nobles much in the

manner of Ga vest on, goes on : " Were I as you, my lord

See Keller, u.s., 24.

322. Villaine, i.e. ' villein,' a peasant bound to the soil.

326. Disparage, " degrade from our proper position. The
Latin words disparagare, disparagatio , from dispar, ' unequal,'
were technical terms of feudal times, expressing difference of
social position." (Tancock.)

331. Warwicke and Lancaster, weare you my crowne. So in
The Massacre at Paris, 866 ff . :

" King. Guise, weare our crowne, and be them King of France,
And as Dictator make or warre or peace,
Whilste I cry placet like a Senator."

343. Fleete, i.e. float, drift, as in Tamburlaine, 1254 : " Legions
of Spirits fleeting in the aire " ; and 2365 : " Shall meet those
Christians fleeting with the tyde." Compare 1. 1940 below,
where the word is used of the quick and easy passage of the soul
from the body.

344. And wander to the unfrequented Inde. Schoeneich, Der
Lit. Einfluss Spensers auf Marlowe, 99, thinks that this line was

NOTES 123

suggested by Faerie Queene, I, vi. 2 : " She wandred had from
one to other Ynd."

351. Curse me, depose me, doe the worst you can. This hys-
terical defiance followed by a sudden giving way is characteristic
of Edward. Compare 2039 ff .

370-1. Why should . . . the world. There may be some
recollection of Spanish Tragedy, II, 6, 6 :

" On whom I doted more then all the world,
Because she lov'd me more then all the world."

Verity compares Titus Andronicus, II, i. 71-2 :

" I care not, I, knew she and all the world : _
I love Lavinia more then all the world."

382. And now, accursed hand, fall off. Tancock says : " Com-
pare the story of Cranmer burning the hand that had offended
in signing his recantation. Tennyson, Queen Mary, iv. 3, p. 221 :

' And crying, in his deep voice, more than once,
" This hath offended — this unworthy hand ! "
So held it till all it was burned.' "

386. Sort, i.e. class or group, as in 1. 967.

390 ff . Why should a king be subject to a priest. Compare
Massacre at Paris, 1207 ff . :

" Agent for England, send thy mistres word,
What this detested lacobin hath done.
Tell her for all this that I hope to live,
Which if I doe, the Papall Monarck goes
To wrack and antechristian kingdome falles.
These bloudy hands shall teare his triple Crowne,
And fire accursed Rome about his eares.
He fire his erased buildings and inforse
The papall towers to kisse the holy earth."

The last two lines are almost identical with 394-5.

Of course, as Tancock notes, the passage is anachronistic in
the mouth of Edward II, and belongs rather to Marlowe's own
times (cf. notes on 11. 55 and 964). Many similar outbursts
against the Pope and the Roman church are to be found
in the chronicle history at this special period. In other forms
of the drama and at other times they are less frequent, though
still not rare. Occasionally there might be a play, like Barnes'
Devils Charter, 1607, of which the chief theme would be the
crimes of the Popes.

124

EDWARD II

391. Hatchest. This is a favourite word of Marlowe, used
several times in this play and elsewhere.

400. My lord, etc. Dyce suggests a change of scene at this
point, and certainly the words ' whispered everywhere ' seem
to indicate a lapse of time not otherwise to be accounted for
from our present point of view. But see note on 717 below.

409 ff . He come to ihee ; my love shall neare decline. This
parting between Edward and Gaveston reminds one strongly of
that between Queen Margaret and Suffolk, in 2 Henry VI, III,
ii. 329 ff., perhaps even more strongly of that between Richard
and his queen, Richard II, V, i. 81 ff.

417. And onely this torments my wretched soule. Compare
Spanish Tragedie, III, i. 43 : " But this, O this, torment es my
labouring soule."

427. Kinde wordes and mutuall talke makes our greefe greater.
Compare Richard II, V, i. 101-2 :

" We make woe wanton with this fond delay :
Once more, adieu ; the rest let sorrow say."

436. Passe not for, that is, care not for. See 1. 2030.

437. st. dir. Enter Edmund. As Dyce remarks, the entrance
of Edmund seems to be a mistake. He does nothing in the
following part of the scene, and it will be remembered that he
was removed earlier with Gaveston. LI. 464 ff., the soliloquy
of the queen, would seem to imply that she was alone ; and
compare 1. 481. The exit of Edmund is nowhere marked.
There is no question that the quartos are careless in marking
exits and entrances, see the stage directions, 11. 301, 328, 898, etc.

448. Thou art too familiar with that Mortimer. There appears
to be no reason for supposing that the connection between
Isabella and Mortimer began before the escape of the latter to
France, see under 1581. Holinshed, like other chroniclers,
handles the love-affair in a circumspect fashion. He says nothing
whatever about it in his account of the reign of Edward II, so
that one might read that narrative without suspecting its
existence. When he comes to tell of Mortimer's arrest and
execution, he devotes a few lines to the matter (see under 2550),
but says nothing about the time or manner in which the con-
nection grew up. Marlowe makes it dramatically credible by

NOTES 125

bringing the two into close association, postulating a real though
unconscious sympathy between them, and subjecting this to
the ripening force of Edward's neglect and their close associa-
tion in France. The early stages of this process Marlowe depicts
with skill and force, but the actual change from unconscious sym-
pathy to adulterous love he has given little attention to. Had
he filled this gap with equal success, the problem of the regen-
eration of Isabella's character (see Introduction, pp. cvii.-cviii.
and note on 1559) would have provided its own solution. The
usual criticism upon Marlowre is that he was unable to portray
women successfully, and that he apparently took little interest in
them. One can hardly dispute the statement, but it is worth
noting that in the early part of this play Isabella has something
of the freshness and charm of Greene's Dorothea and Margaret.

454. Villaine, Us thou that robst me of my lord. Compare the
charges brought against the favourites of Richard II, Richard
II, III, i. ii ff. :

" You have in manner with your sinful hours
Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him,
Broke the possession of a royal bed
And stain' d the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks
With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs."

464. 0 miserable and distressed Queene. In like manner
Queen Anne (see note on 271) : " I now am crownd a queene of
misserye."

466. Charming Circes. ' Charming ' "is here used in its
literal sense " (Keltic), i.e. employing charms ; so in Locrine,
IV, ii. 9 : " Hath dreadfull Fames with her charming rods,"
etc. The form ' Circes ' is not easy to explain. Dyce says that
the genitive of proper names was formerly often put for the
nominative, but he gives no instances, and his remark is un-
satisfactory. In Heywood's Pleasant Dialogues and Drammas,
ed. Bang, 1903, 1. 960, occurs the line : " Wouldst thou make
me a Circes ? " Bang in his note says that ' Circes ' is a mis-
print, but the statement is clearly wrong, for other examples
can be given. The form occurs in Dido, 1217 (where Brooke
corrects to ' Circe,' though he does not in the present passage) ;
three times in Greene's Mamillia (Works, ed. Grosart, II, 186,
203, 286 ; in one case the expression ' charming Cyrces ' is
used), and in the Index to Kyd's Householder's Philosophy
(Works, ed, Boas, 234) ; in addition cf. Henry Crosse,

126

EDWARD II

Virtues Commonwealth, 1603, ed. Grosart, 1878, 163 ; Brath-
wait's Natures Embassie, 1621, repr. 1877, p. 8 ; Whitlock's
Zootomia, 1654, 437- See ' Achillis/ 1. 687 below.

Professor Fliigel has very kindly pointed out to me that
' Circes ' is a very common Old French form, that it is the
regular form in Chaucer and Gower, that it is a good I5th
century form, occurring in Lydgate and in the anonymous
Destruction of Troy, and that it very probably, along with other
similar nominative-genitives, arose from the loose translation
of such passages as Ovid, Metamorphoses, iv. 205, Nee tenet
Aeaeae genetrix pulcherrima Circes ; xiii. 968, Prodigiosa petit
Titanidos atria Circes.

Tancock rightly remarks that Marlowe is here referring to
Ovid, Metamorphoses, XIV, where Circe (11. 48 ff.) is represented
as walking over the sea on her way to work the enchantment of
Scylla :

" ingreditur ferventes aestibus undas,
In quibus ut solida ponit vestigia terra,
Summaque decurrit pedibus super aequora siccis."

472. Frantick Juno. LI. 472-3 appear to be an expansion of
Ovid's phrase, ' invita lunone/ in his brief account of Gany-
mede, Met., X, 155-61.

474. Ganimed. Marlowe seems to have given ' Ganymede '
a short e, as is indicated not merely by the spelling (cf. Dido,
11. i, 49, etc.), but also by the rhymes in Hero and Leander,
I, 148 (bed . . . Ganimed) ; so Heywood, u.s., 4871-2 (tread
. . . Ganimed). This is also the regular spelling in As You
Like It, and elsewhere, e.g. Drayton, Polyolbion, xvii. 195.

481. Looke, etc. Dyce suggests a change of scene at this
point also.

483. Intreated, that is, treated. See Marlowe's translation
of Ovid's Elegies, III, ii. 22 : " By thy sides touching ill she is
entreated," where ' ill entreated ' translates laeditur.

484. Hard is the hart. In such expressions (hard heart, hard-
hearted) Nelle, Das Wortspiel im Engl. Drama des XVI Jahr-
hunderts, 1900, 16, and Wurth, Das Wortspiel bei Shakspere,
1895, think that a play upon words is to be found. It may
possibly be that the similarity of sound lent a certain attractive-
ness to such phrases in an age that was excessively fond of

NOTES 127

jingles and puns, but the idea involved in them is indispensable
and the language natural and indeed inevitable, so that their
frequent use had doubtless little to do with the likeness between
hard and heart.

499. Shipwrack body. Compare ' shipwracke treasure,' Hero
and Leander, II, 164. For other instances of the use of a noun
as adjective, see Vogt, Das Adjectiv bei Marlowe, 1908, 9-10.

517. Torpedo, i.e. the cramp-fish or electric ray, which delivers
an electric shock to the incautious handler. The severity of this
shock was earlier much exaggerated, and its cause of course not
understood. Sir Thomas Browne, for instance, Pseudodoxia,
III, vii., speaks of the torpedo as distributing its ' opium/
though he was probably speaking metaphorically in allusion to
the numbing effect of the shock.

555. Whereas, that is, ' where/ regularly so used in Marlowe's
day.

559. How easilie might some base slave be subbornd. The
design here sketched by Mortimer and assented to by the peers
without demur has the effect of alienating the sympathy of
modern readers. Such would not have been necessarily its effect
on an Elizabethan audience. Assassination was a crime no doubt,
but not always thought a despicable one. It was a recognized
political weapon on the continent, and the odium attached to it
depended upon political or religious prepossessions in large
measure. Circumstances might justify it, and the doctrine of
tyrannicide was held alike by Jesuits and Puritans. Even in
private feuds assassination was frequent on the continent and
might even be employed on occasion by an English nobleman ;
thus the earl of Oxford was generally thought to have formed a
plot to murder Sir Philip Sidney. In other words, assassination
was of course murder, but the circumstances of secrecy or even
treachery by which it was accompanied did not of necessity
make it especially odious, unless they were of an aggravated
kind. Poisoning was to be sure looked upon with particular
abhorrence, and yet Edward, 11. 1033-4, after Gaveston has
suggested the assassination of Mortimer, utters the wish :

" Would Lancaster and he had both carroust
A bowle of poison to each others health."

Laertes in Hamlet himself suggests that the foil he is to use be
poisoned, and yet Laertes is in no sense represented as a villain,
R

128 EDWARD II

In the seventeenth century the murder of Buckingham was
acclaimed by almost the whole nation.

566. How chance, i.e. ' how does it chance that.' Compare
the expression current in some parts of the United States, ' how
come ' for ' how comes it.'

576. Of, i.e. on. This use of ' of ' was very common (compare
1. 1957), and resulted from the confusion brought about by the
fact that in daily speech the two words were frequently reduced
to ' a ' or ' o ' (Franz, Shakespeare-Grammatik, p. 249). In
1. 1707 we find a similar reduction of ' in ' to ' a,' and in modern
colloquial speech the phrase ' would have done ' is often pro-
nounced ' would a done,' with the result that children and
sometimes older persons write it ' would of done.' Compare
also 1. 1592, where ' a ' is unemphatic ' he.'

578. Mushrump, a common variant of ' mushroom.' In the
Jew of Malta, 1983, occurs ' mushrumbs.' Compare Southwell's
Scorn not the Least, Schelling's Elizabethan Lyrics, p. 68 :
" He that high growth on cedars did bestow,
Gave also lowly mushrumps leave to grow."

586-7. On that condition . . . And I. Keller, u.s., notes the
similarity of the following passage from the old Richard II :
" If not : by good king Edwards bones, our royall father,
I will remoue these hinderers of his health (tho't cost my head).
Yorke. Lane. On these conditions, brother, we agree.
Arond. And I.
Surry. And I."

587. And so will Penbrooke. Ellis and Verity follow Elze, p.
114. See note on 268.

590-1. And when . . . forlorne. Compare Kyd's Soliman
and Perseda, IV, i. 198 :

" My gratious Lord, whe[n] Erastus doth forget this favor,
Then let him live abandond and forlorne."

612. Passions. Compare ' passionate,' 1. 802, and Tambur-
laine, 359 : " His deep affections make him passionate " ; 473 :
" Pale of complexion : wrought in him with passion " ; 998 :
" Yet since a farther passion feeds my thoughts."

613. My gratious lord. This line is almost repeated, 1. 937.

621. Golden tongue. Nelle, Das Wortspiel im Englischen
Drama vor Shakspere, 1900, 36, thinks that we have a play upon

NOTES 129

words here, since ' tongue ' is used in the sense of (a) an ornament,
(b) the organ of speech.

638. Chiefest. This is a kind of double superlative. ' Chief '
expresses the superlative degree, and is not to-day capable of
comparison. But * chief est ' is very common in Elizabethan
English, which freely reinforced its superlatives, even when
formed regularly ; the familiar example is Shakespeare's " most
unkindest cut of all," Julius Ccesar, III, ii. 187. Ben Jonson
(English Grammar, chap, iv.) calls the practice " a certain kind
of English Atticism, or eloquent phrase of speech, imitating the
manner of the most ancientest and finest Grecians, who, for
more emphasis and vehemencies sake, used so to speak."

For the distribution of honours and offices in this passage
there is no chronicle authority.

648. Like thee not, that is, ' please thee not.' The verb ' like/
when used in this sense, was regularly in the impersonal construc-
tion, just as ' please ' is to-day. See 1. 1606.

649-50. Marshall . . . marshall. One of the few plays on
words in Edward II ; Marlowe, Bullen remarks (Works, II, 88),
is not " much addicted to quibbling," but puns and word-plays
do occur, and in Jew of Malta they are fairly frequent (Nelle,
Das Wortspiel, etc., 10). Compare Carpenter, Metaphor and
Simile in the Minor Eliz. Drama, 1895, 38, and see notes on 484,
621, etc.

652. Chirke. The two Mortimers were respectively of Chirke
(on the border between Shropshire and Wales) and Wigmore
(on the border between Herefordshire and Wales). See 1. 992.

655-6. Be you the generall . . . assaile the Scots. Tancock
says that there was no foreign war at this time. But it is im-
possible to tell exactly whether Marlowe has in mind here 1310
or 1311, and in 1311 there was an expedition into Scotland. It
is true that the elder Mortimer is not mentioned in connection
with it, but under the year 1315 Sir Roger Mortimer (really the
younger, but not distinguished by Holinshed, so that Marlowe
could easily assign the episode to the elder) is mentioned by
Holinshed as commanding in Ireland against the Scottish
invaders under Edward Bruce, and as being defeated by him :
" manie of the said sir Rogers men were slaine and taken."
This episode may very easily have suggested 1. 913. See the
note on that line.

130 EDWARD II

663. Beamont. ' Lord Henrie Beaumont/ mentioned by
Holinshed, p. 323, was an energetic supporter of Edward until
1323, when he turned against him.

664. Iris . . . Mercuric. Iris, the rainbow, was the messen-
ger of the gods, more particularly perhaps of Juno. Mercury
executed the commands of Jupiter.

671. Made him sure, i.e. betrothed. Compare Jew of Malta,
i oo i, on which line Bullen quotes from Cotgrave : " Accor dailies,
the betrothing, or making sure of a man and woman together."

672. The earle of Glosters heire. " Moreover, at the same
parlement [1307], a marriage was concluded betwixt the earle
of Cornewall Peers de Gaveston, and the daughter of Gilbert de
Clare earle of Glocester, which he had by his wife the countesse
Joane de Acres the kings sister, which marriage was solemnized
on All hallowes day next insuing." (Holinshed, 318). Tancock
in his note on this line and Tzschaschel (p. 13) both are of the
opinion that Marlowe used Stow's Annals rather than Holinshed,
because Stow represents the marriage as taking place after
Gaveston's return from Ireland. The conclusion, however, does
not necessarily follow. In the first place, Gaveston has not yet
returned ; in the second, the words ' have made him sure '
clearly represent the betrothal as already accomplished ; in the
third, 11. 740-5 make it certain that the betrothal took place
before the banishment. Now Stow mentions no betrothal at
all, whereas Marlowe says nothing about any marriage, though
we may suppose it past in 11. noo-i. The utmost that we
may conclude is perhaps that the two accounts fused in Marlowe's
mind. Strictly, he is following both authorities.

675. Who in the triumphe will be challenger. ' Triumph '
here means the ' generall tilt and turnament ' of 1. 669. The
word was ordinarily used to denote a procession with what are
now called ' floats/ especially the procession on Lord Mayor's
day.

For the construction of this passage, in which the subject of
1 spare ' is omitted and is to be supplied from the preceding
clause, compare 11. 947-8, 1684-5, and Tamburlaine, 665-7 :

" They knew not, ah, they knew not simple men,
How those were hit by pelting Cannon shot,
Stand staggering like a quivering Aspen leafe."

NOTES 131

679. Nephue, I must to Scotland. The importance of the
following passage for the creation of suspense is remarked by
Fischer, Kunstentwicklung der Engl. Tragodie, 147.

683. Controulement. Compare 1. 1792 and King John, I, i.
19-20 :

" Here have we war for war and blood for blood,
Controlment for controlment : so answer France."

685. Ephestion. Hephaestion was the intimate friend and
companion of Alexander the Great.

687. Achillis. See note on 466. The same form occurs in
the 1604 Faustus, 1339. It was the slaying of Patroclus by
Hector that finally aroused Achilles from his sullen anger at the
injury done him by Agamemnon before Troy. The games with
which the hero solemnized the death of his friend were splendid
and famous. See Iliad, Book XXIII.

689. Tullie . . . Octavis, i.e. Cicero . . . Octavius. For the
form ' Octavis ' I have no parallel, and it is probably a misprint.
Brooke reads ' Octavius ' without comment, but the Cassel copy
of Q 1594, from which he prepared his text, is very clear, accord-
ing to my facsimile.

The citation of Cicero and Octavius is particularly inapt, as
there was nothing in their relation or in the character of Octavius
even remotely to recall Edward and Gaveston.

690. Socrates . . . Alcibiades. Socrates, the Greek philo-
sopher, entertained an affection for Alcibiades, a wild, rakish,
but brilliant youth of high birth and great beauty ; but as in
the preceding line, the elder Mortimer's citation is not especially
to the purpose.

695 ff. His wanton humor. Mortimer's contempt for Gave-
ston's effeminacy is much like the contempt of Hotspur for
" a certain lord, neat, and trimly dress'd,
Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin new reap'd
Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home ;
He was perfumed like a milliner," etc.

(i Henry IV, I, iii. 33.)

700. He weaves a lords revenewe on his back. Editors regularly
quote 2 Henry VI, I, iii. 83 : " She bears a duke's revenue on
her back." Verity compares Henry VIII, I, i. 83-5 :

" O, many

Have broke their backs with laying manors on 'em
For this great journey."

132

EDWARD II

No idea is more common in the satirical comedy of the period.
It was a time of great extravagance in all fashions, and a gallant's
fine clothes would often necessitate the sale of many an acre of
good land. Perrett, Story of King Lear up to Shakespeare, 1904,
119, speaking of Fleay's guess that Marlowe had a hand in the
old Leir, says : " Fleay's solitary argument for Marlowe or an
imitator in Sc. i-io is the line ' She'll lay her husband's benefice
on her back/ in Sc. 6, with which he compares Ed. II [700],
and 2 H. VI, I, iii. 83. If one swallow is to make summer like
this we must say that Euphues and his England (ed. Arber, p.
268), the Inedited Tracts, The Servingman's Comfort, 1598 (p.
*54» 156), and The Courtier and the Countryman, 1618 (p. 183),
published by Hazlitt, 1868, as well as the Wise Speech of a
nobleman under Henry VIII (Camden's Remaines, 1629, p. 244)
were all by Marlowe or his imitators (cf. also the old R. II in
Sh.-Jahrb. xxxv, p. 53 [55])."

701. Jets it. Compare Kyd's Soliman and Perseda, I, iii. 214 :
" He will iet as if it were a Goose on a greene." For the use of
1 it/ see 11. 667, 749, 1498.

Midas was the Phrygian king who received from Bacchus the
power of converting everything that he touched into gold.

702. Outlandish, i.e. foreign. Gaveston was French and of
course was surrounded with French servants. The Elizabethan,
and indeed typically English, dislike of foreigners crops out here.
It is doubtful, however, whether in the reign of Edward II the
still predominantly Norman nobility would have felt any par-
ticular dislike of the French except on purely political grounds.
Marlowe very likely has in mind a passage in Stow, Annals, ed.
1606, 331 : " King Edward kept his Christmas at Yorke, where
Pierce of Gaveston was present with his Outlandish men."

704. Proteus, god of shapes. Because the sea-god Proteus so
often changed his shape, particularly when mortals attempted
to restrain him.

706-7. Italian hooded cloake . . . tuskan cap. In Marlowe's
day, but not in Mortimer's, foreign, especially French and Italian,
fashions in dress had pretty well taken possession of society.
Foreigners made sport of the English, and the English often
made sport of themselves, for their indiscriminate adoption of
the fashions of the various continental countries.

NOTES 183

709. Other. See Marlowe's translation of Ovid's Elegies, I,
vi. 12 : "Be thou as bold as other," i.e. others. This form,
historically the correct one, was in use, along with * others/ all
through the seventeenth century.

717. Come, unckle, lets away. The elder Mortimer does not
appear again after this scene. Marlowe tells us nothing about
his ultimate fate, but as a matter of fact he submitted to the
king in 1322 at the same time with his nephew (see note on 1539)
and was likewise imprisoned in the Tower, where he died after
some years.

" The construction of [the preceding scene] is poor. Gave-
ston's exile is demanded, resisted, obtained ; he leaves England ;
Isabel entreats, and finally secures, his recall ; he is summoned ;
and after a general pacification of king and barons, a new resist-
ance is threatened — all in the single scene." (McLaughlin.) If
we should make a new scene at 1. 400 and another at 1. 481, the
difficulty would in part be done away with, and such a change
would be consistent with the incomplete stage directions of the
quartos (see note on 437). On the other hand, we have no
reason to suppose that either Marlowre or his audience felt the
inconsistencies that we do. The Elizabethan stage developed
from the symbolic stage of the earlier drama, and the transition
to the modern literal stage, if we may use that term, was only
in process. Properties belonging to one scene are often allowed
to remain on the stage throughout a following scene with which
their presence is wholly inconsistent, and there are clear instances
in which the stage represents two places at the same time.
" Another custom ... is the change of scene before the eyes
of the audience. Generally without the stage being cleared of
actors, the supposed place of action suddenly shifts to an entirely
different place." See Reynolds, Some Principles of Elizabethan
Staging, Modern Philology, June, 1905. We are then practically
justified in assuming a change of place when circumstances seem
to demand, though we are not justified in introducing stage
directions without notice.

718. Spencer. Scene 5. A hall in the mansion of the Duke
of Glocester (Dyce). There was a play on the subject of the
' Spencers,' written by Porter and Chettle. Greg, Henslowe's
Diary, 1908, ii. 224, suggests that this play, as well as one called
' Mortymore ' or ' Mortimer,' which we know also to have
existed, though neither has been preserved, " had some distant

134

EDWARD II

connection with Marlowe's Edward II." We know nothing
about these plays.

719. Th' carle of Glosters dead. The younger Gilbert de Clare,
earl of Gloucester, was alive at this time, for he was killed in the
battle of Bannockburn, two years after Gaveston's death. (It
is not likely that Marlowe has in mind the elder Gilbert de Clare,
who died in 1295.) The younger Gilbert had three sisters, co-
heiresses of his estate, so that 11. 672, 1054 do n°t correspond
with the facts. There is no authority for making Baldock one
of his dependents, and Marlowe has antedated Baldock's promi-
nence. " At this time also master Robert Baldocke, a man evill
beloved in the realme, was made lord chancellour of England.
This Robert Baldocke, and one Simon Reding were great favourers
of the Spensers, and so likewise was the earle of Arundell, wherby
it may be thought, that the Spensers did helpe to advance them
into the kings favour, so that they bare no small rule in the realme,
during the time that the same Spensers continued in prosperitie,
which for the terme of five yeares after that the foresaid barons
(as before is expressed) were brought to confusion, did woonder-
fullie increase." (Holinshed, 332, sub anno 1322.) The minute
care with which Marlowe wove Baldock into the tissue of his
action is seen not merely in this scene, but in 11. 1035 #•

Hugh Spenser, or Despenser, the younger, had no dependence
upon the earl of Gloucester. In 1309 he married one of the three
sisters above mentioned, which fact probably gave Marlowe the
hint for the present passage. The Despensers were important
barons of the Welsh march ; they had nothing to do with Gave-
ston, but became eventually favourites of Edward through their
own merits.

748 ff. You must cast the scholler off. Tancock says : " This
passage belongs to the poet's own day, and represents Baldock
as somewhat of a Puritan in dress and manner. It may be
illustrated by the character of ' A Young Rawe Preacher ' in
Earle, Microcosmographie, p. 22 : ' He will not draw his hand-
kercher out of his place.' ' His fashion and demure Habit gets
him in with some Town-precisian. . . . You shall know him by
his narrow velvet cape, and serge facing, and his ruffe.' Compare
Spenser, Mother Hubberd's Tale of the Ape and the Fox :
' Then to some Noble-man yourselfe apr>lye,
There thou must walke in sober gravit ^e,
Fast much, pray oft, look lowly on the ground,
And unto everie one doo curtesie meeke.' "

NOTES 135

These lines from Spenser, Mother Hubberd's Tale, 489, 496, 498-9,
are also cited by Schoeneich, Der Einfluss Spensers auf Marlowe,
100, as evidence of Spenserian influence.

755. Making lowe legs. ' To make a leg ' meant ' to bow.'

756. Close. Compare Hero and Leander, I, 158-9 :

" There Hero sacrificing turtles blood,
Vaild to the ground, vailing her eie-lids close."

757. Ant, i.e. ' and it,' i.e. ' if it.' Both of these forms are
common, as is also the phrase ' and if,' arising from a confusion
as to the conditional use of ' and.'

761 ff. I hate such formall toies. Marlowe is here pretty
clearly taking a fling at the London Puritans. They and the
stage were at bitter feud. In revenge for their attempts to
suppress the stage, dramatists all through the period brought
them before the public as hypocritical asses. Marlowe had
probably already felt their teeth in connection with his Tam-
burlaine, which was currently regarded as atheistical, and we
know that at the time of his murder he, together with Ralegh
and others, was being ' investigated ' by the Privy Council for
atheistical opinions. Accordingly after his death the Puritans
concocted a monstrous death-bed legend, quite comparable to
those legends that grew up concerning the last hours of Voltaire,
Heine, and Tom Paine. It may be said incidentally that a
careful examination shows that we possess no evidence proving
that Marlowe's violent death was in any way brought about by
his own vicious conduct, or that his life was exceptionally de-
praved or even dissipated.

This passage, taken in connection with the others in the play
in which we are compelled to see allusions to conditions of
Marlowe's own day and generation (see notes on 11. 390, 702,
748, 960, 964), sufficiently shows the futility of Diintzer's remark
(Anglia, I, 50) in his article Zu Marlowe's Faust, to the effect
" dass die hohe und strenge dramatische stil Marlowe's . . .
alle anspielungen auf die gegenwart ausschloss," a principle
that he makes use of to deprive Marlowe of some of the finest
lines in Faustus.

770-3. Propterea quod . . . quandoquidem . . . to forme a
verbe. Propterea quod means ' because.' Baldock, however he
may for selfish purposes put on the air of a Puritanical scholar,

136 EDWARD II

has a contempt for those common pedants that cannot speak
without introducing long and involved reasoning. The phrase
would seem to be identified with the formal and artificial method
of scholastic disputation still practised in Marlowe's day at
Oxford and Cambridge. Quandoquidem, in its causal use having
much the same meaning, seems however to be sharply contrasted
with propterea quod. This may very likely have been on the
ground of student usage. As the college students were supposed
to do their conversing in Latin, it may well have come about
that the cumbrous and formal propterea quod may have fallen
into disfavour among the more elegant spirits (note that Baldock
is in 1. 1814 called a ' smooth-tongued scholar '), and quando-
quidem have become a sign of culture as distinct from pedantry.
This suggestion is favoured by the fact that propterea quod was
in classical Latin a prose expression, whereas, as Professor
Elmore has pointed out to me, quandoquidem in its causal use
was poetical, except in Livy. It is further favoured by Tancock's
note that ' to form a verb ' " is a rendering of ' verba formare '
(compare Quintilian, i. 12, 9), 'to pronounce aright/ and here
is a cant or slang phrase meaning ' to put a thing neatly,' ' to say
the right thing.' " McLaughlin thinks that quandoquidem " may
have been the beginning of some student Latin phrase of com-
pliance with an invitation or opinion ; that is, ' You fall in with
your company's suggestions in a free, genial way.' ' But this
leaves out of view the sharp contrast noted above, and Mc-
Laughlin did not see the real meaning of ' to form a verb.'
Tancock refers quandoquidem to the ' seeing that ' of 1. 719, and
says that Spenser " hints that Baldock does give his reason."
Surely this is too far-fetched ; 1. 719 is fifty-two lines back, and
no spectator, only a commentator, would ever think of it in
this connection.

774-5. The greefe, etc. Compare 11. 855-7.

788. Coache. There were no coaches in England at this time,
as they were first introduced about the middle of the sixteenth
century.

800. The winde is good. Scene 6. Before Tynmouth Castle
(Dyce).

803. And still his minde runs on his minion. Compare
Massacre at Paris, 638 :

" His minde you see runnes on his minions."

NOTES 137

810. Devise, i.e. ' device/ a painting on a shield, with a motto
attached.

815-16. Cedar . . . Eagles. The cedar and the eagle were
favourite types of royalty.

Ward, History of English Dramatic Poetry, 2nd ed., I, 350,
n. 3, remarks : "I think that allusions to Marlowe's play are
also recognisable in the brief History of Edward II by the first
Lord Falkland, not printed till long after its author's death
(1633) in 1680, apparently with the design of injuring the
Government, and containing some very judicious reflexions on
Edward II's downfall. Gaveston is here spoken of as ' the
Ganymede of the King's affections ' [see 1. 474], and the image
of a fallen cedar is applied to the dismissed favourite, perhaps
in loose remembrance of " the present passage.

819. Aeque tandem. Tancock says : " Justly at length ; a
hint that Gaveston, the canker, will get justice in the end, and
be killed." But this can hardly be the meaning, for the motto
of a device should bear some direct relation to the device itself.
Aeque, moreover, while meaning sometimes ' justly/ was also
regularly used when a comparison was made or implied, and
that is here the case. Aeque tandem is the motto of the canker,
and means ' at length equally/ i.e. equally high, implying that
the canker, Gaveston, at length attains the highest bough of all,
and so is on an equality with the eagle, Edward. Such is the
sense in which Edward takes it, 1. 840.

822 if. Plinie reports there is a flying Fish. But Pliny does
not say anything quite like this, as Bullen and Tancock have
noted. In his Natural History, ix. 19, Pliny speaks of a fish that
" would leap on to a rocky ledge in warm weather and there bask
in the sun." Bullen goes on to refer to an account quoted from
Clearchus in Deipnosophistae, viii. 5, according to which this
fish, " when basking on the ledge, has to be constantly on his
guard against kingfishers and the like, and when he sees them
afar flies leaping and gasping until he dives under the water."
Tancock, with more probability, refers to such accounts of the
flying fish as given in The Voyage made by M. John Hawkins
esquire, and afterward knight . . . to the coast of Guinea (see the
edition 1904 of Hakluyt's Voyages, x. 60-1), in which the details
given by Marlowe are to be found.

827. Undique mors est. Death is on all sides.

138

EDWARD II

828 ff. Proud Mortimer . . . my brother. This speech is
assigned to Kent by Dyce, an assignment followed by almost all
editors since his day (see the variants). The quarto assignment,
however, is undoubtedly correct, for the following reasons :
(a) all quartos agree ; (b) the words, ' my brother/ 1. 834, which
Dyce thought to be decisive, are not necessarily to be inter-
preted as he assumes, for the line, if spoken by the king, may be
interpreted as follows — What call you this but private libelling
against one who has two titles to consideration, that he is the
earl of Cornwall and that I look upon him as my brother (compare
11. 142-3) ; (c) there has been, strictly speaking, no libel on the
king, for Mortimer compares him to a lofty cedar tree, fair
flourishing, and Lancaster does not mention him ; (d) Isabella's
speech, 1. 835, seems to be called forth by some outbreak on
Edward's part ; (e) Kent would hardly have referred to the
king as ' my brother/ since the phrase would not have brought
out his chief title to respect from the nobles, though referring
to Gaveston, it would have done so from the king's point of
view ; (f) it is unlikely that the passionate Edward should have
remained silent after Lancaster's speech, and allowed Kent to
rebuke the nobles in his stead ; (g) finally, it should be noted
that Stow (Annals, ed. 1606, 328) remarks that Edward was in
the habit of calling Gaveston ' Brother/

829-30. 7s this the love, etc. Crawford (see note on 151)
compares Arden of Fever sham, I, 186-7 :

" Is this the end of all thy solemn oaths ?
Is this the fruit thy reconcilement buds ? "

839. Gesses, i.e. jesses, the thongs, usually of leather, worn
about the legs of the hawk ; to them was attached the re-
straining leash.

852. Danae, the daughter of Acrisius, was locked up in a
brazen tower by her father because of a prophecy ; Jupiter
visited her in the form of a shower of gold. It is not recorded
that she had other lovers, or that they waxed outrageous because
of her confinement.

861. Paynted springe. " A translation of the common
classical epithet, 'pictum/ as 'prata picta/ the flowery meadows"
(Tancock).

873. Base, leaden Earles.

" The king indeed was lewdlie led [1310], for after that the

NOTES 139

earle of Cornewall was returned into England, he shewed him-
selfe no changeling (as writers doo affirme) but through support
of the kings favour, bare himself e so high in his doings, which
were without all good order, that he seemed to disdaine all the
peeres & barons of the realme. Also after the old sort he pro-
voked the king to all naughtie rule and riotous demeanour, and
having the custodie of the kings jewels and treasure, he tooke
out of the jewell-house a table, & a paire of trestels of gold,
which he delivered unto a merchant called Aimerie de Friscobald,
commanding him to conveie them over the sea into Gascoine.
This table was judged of the common people, to belong sometime
unto king Arthur, and therefore men grudged the more that
the same should thus be sent out of the realme." (Holinshed,
P- 320.)

880. Heere, here, King. In his first edition Dyce says : "I
should have taken the word ' King ' for a prefix crept by mistake
into the text, but that the speeches of Edward have always the
prefix ' Edw.' ' In his second edition he adopted that view, as
shown by the variants.

881. Convey hence, etc. Brereton, Modern Language Review,
VI, 95, says : "I would follow the reading of 1594 in every-
thing. It is one line, not one and a bit. The warning words are
spoken aside to the king. In a later scene [1231 ff.] Penbrooke
shews a sincere affection for his sovereign, and is willing to place
his life in pledge for Gaveston." However, in his version of the
line Brereton omits ' King ' without notice, and it is difficult to
see how that word fits in with his interpretation. Either, as
Dyce thought, it is a stage direction, or else as a part of Pem-
broke's speech it has a harsh and disrespectful ring out of keeping
with what Brereton suggests.

897-8. Come, Edmund . . . Barons pride. Compare Massacre
at Paris, 1139-40 :

" Come let us away and leavy men,
Tis warre that must ass wage this tyrantes pride."

899. Mooude. Fleay takes ' moved ' in this line as meaning
' removed, departed/ in the next line as ' moody, angry,' and
goes on to say that " Marlowe seldom puns, and when he does
it is generally in a serious way, as here." But there seems no
reason for supposing a pun to be intended. There is no question
as to the meaning of ' moved ' in the second instance, and in the

140 EDWARD II

preceding line one can hardly suppose Warwick to have meant,
' Let's to our castles, for the king is departed/ ' Moved ' is
constantly and regularly used in the sense of ' angry/ and no
contemporary of Marlowe would ever have attached any other
sense to the word as used by Warwick. The case is not at all
comparable to the one noted under 11. 649-50.

901. It is no dealing, or, as we should say, there is no dealing.

910. st. dir. Poast. A ' post ' was a messenger, more especially
a messenger on official business.

913. My unckles taken prisoner by the Scots. " This is not
historical. . . . The whole story of the elder Mortimer being
taken prisoner, and the King's refusal to ransom him, is very
like the story of the captivity of Sir Edmund Mortimer in Wales
in the reign of Henry IV, who refused to ransom him or allow
his ransom. Compare I Henry IV, i. 3, 77-92." (Tancock.)
See, however, the note on 655.

919. Do, cosin, and He beare thee companie. There is no
authority in the chronicle for the following episode.

921. Gather head, that is, collect troops. The phrase occurs, as
noted by Verity in the essay cited, in The Massacre at Paris, 511 ;
Titus Andronicus, IV, iv. 63 ; I Henry VI, I, iv. 100 ; 2 Henry
VI, IV, v. 10.

925. And if. See note on 1. 757.

935. Dyce suggests a change of scene at this point.

944. To gather for him, i.e. to gather alms for him. Agair.st
beggars, as well as other sturdy rogues and vagabonds, there
wer.e severe laws, but a legal licence to beg was procurable when
there seemed sufficient ground for it, and it is to a licence of this
kind that Edward refers. Compare Jew of Malta, 787-8 :
" Hoping to see them starve upon a stall,
Or else be gather'd for in our Synagogue."

953 ff . The idle triumphes, etc. With this attack upon the
king, compare, both as to manner and matter, the onslaught
upon Gloucester, 2 Henry VI, I, iii. 125 ff. :

" Suf. Resign it then and leave thine insolence.
Since thou wert king — as who is king but thou ? —
The commonwealth hath daily run to wreck ;
The Dauphin hath prevail'd beyond the seas ;
And all the peers and nobles of the realm
Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty.

NOTES 141

Car. The commons hast thou rack'd ; the clergy's bags
Are lank and lean with thy extortions.

Som. Thy sumptuous buildings and thy wife's attire
Have cost a mass of public treasury.

Buck. Thy cruelty in execution
Upon offenders hath exceeded law
And left thee to the mercy of the law.

Queen. Thy sale of offices and towns in France,
If they were known, as the suspect is great,
Would make thee quickly hop without thy head."

It may very well have been that Marlowe, in thus placing in the
mouths of Mortimer and Lancaster a summary of the evil
results of the king's misrule, had in mind the following passage
.in Holinshed, p. 325 : " Thus all the kings exploits by one
means or other quailed, and came but to evill successe, so that
the English nation began to grow in contempt by the inf ortunate
government of the prince, the which as one out of the right waie,
rashlie and with no good advisement ordered his dooings, which
thing so greeved the noblemen of the realme, that they studied
day and night by what means they might procure him to looke
better to his office and dutie."

958. Thy garrisons are beaten out of Fraunce. Edward had
various disputes with the king of France over the question of
paying homage for his continental possessions, and after minor
hostilities, open war broke out between Edward's garrisons and
the French in 1324, wherein the English had much the worse.
It will be seen that Marlowe has no concern to maintain a rigidly
correct chronology, and he has antedated these events many
years. These were the disturbances to accommodate which
Queen Isabel was sent to France (see below, 11. 1357 #•)•

960. Irish Kernes. Reed quotes a description of the Irish
kern from Barnaby Riche, Description of Ireland, 1610, p. 37 :
" The Kerne are the very drosse and scum of the countrey, a
generation of villaines not worthy to live : these be they that
live by robbing and spoiling the poore countreyman, that maketh
him many times to buy bread to give unto them, though he want
for himself e and his poore children. These are they, that are
ready to run out with everie rebell ; and these are the verie
hags of hell, fit for nothing but for the gallows." A similar
account, Reed says, is given in the Second Part of The Image of
Irelande, by John Derricke, 1581.

Neither Holinshed, Fabyan, nor Stow mentions an O'Neill as

142 EDWARD II

leading the Irish rebels who aided Edward Bruce in his en-
deavours to wrest Ireland from the English. It so happens that
there was an O'Neill who was of more or less importance in this
struggle, but it is probable that Marlowe had never heard of
him. Marlowe had rather in mind some one of the O'Neills who
played so important a part in resisting the subjugation of Ireland
by the English in the sixteenth century, perhaps Turlough
O'Neill (d. 1595), who gave a great deal of trouble.

' The English Pale ' was the term applied to that compara-
tively small portion of Ireland round about Dublin where the
English authority was fairly well established and which was
largely peopled by the descendants of originally English settlers.
The boundaries of the Pale naturally varied considerably from
time to time.

Tancock notes that the First Part of the Contention between
the two Noble Houses of York and Lancaster, ix, 133, has a ' curi-
ously parallel ' passage :

" The wilde Onele my Lords, is up in Armes,
With troupes of Irish Kernes that, uncontrold,
Doth plant themselves within the English pale."

" The parallelism is the more curious, as Holinshed and Stow
do not mention the O'Neils." But it is not so curious if wre
believe that Marlowe had a share in the play mentioned, and
that in both passages he was thinking of recent history. The
point, which seems rather a significant one, strengthens one's
belief in Marlowe's part authorship of the two early Henry VI
plays (see Introduction, p. xc). In 2, Henry VI the quoted
passage does not appear.

962. Unto the wattes of Yorke the Scots made rode. The
Scotch, after the battle of Bannockburn (see below), made many
inroads upon the northern parts of England, and more than
once reached the vicinity of York. Of one such incursion in
1318 Holinshed writes, p. 324 : ''In their going backe they
burnt Knaresbourgh, and Skipton in Craven, which they had
first sacked, and so passing through the middest of the countrie,
burning and spoiling all before them, they returned into Scotland
with a marvellous great multitude of cattell, beside prisoners,
men and women, and no small number of poore people, which
they tooke with them to helpe to drive the cattell."

1 Rode ' means ' inroad,' or ' raid,' ' raid ' being in fact the
Northern form of the same word.

NOTES 143

964. The hautie Dane commands the narrow seas. Editors
regularly cite 3 Henry VI, I, i. 239 : " Stern Falconbridge
commands the narrow seas." The ' narrow seas ' are the English
Channel.

Editors have not seen fit to explain the somewhat curious
fact that Marlowe should ascribe to Denmark control over the
English Channel. Nothing of the kind is to be found in his
sources, and there is no historical foundation for the line.
Perhaps Marlowe may have had reference to the struggles of
Denmark and the Hanse towns in the fourteenth century ; he
may again have had in mind the ancient naval prowess of the
Vikings ; but it is more probable that we may find the explana-
tion in occurrences of his own day. In the Calendars of State
Papers, Foreign Series, we may trace disputes between England
and Denmark over commercial matters ; Cunningham, Growth
of English Industry and Commerce, 3rd edition, II, 234, n. 5, in
speaking of these disputes, says : " The Danes were inclined to
give a very large interpretation to their claims in regard to
ships engaged in the Russian trade " ; and Gosse, in his article
on Denmark in EncycL Brit., 1910, viii. 32, says : " Still, the
fact remains that, for a time, Denmark was one of the great
powers of Europe. Frederick II, in his later years (1571-88),
aspired to the dominion of all the seas which washed the Scan-
dinavian coasts, and before he died he was able to enforce the
rule that all foreign ships should strike their topsails to Danish
men-of-war as a token of his right to rule the northern seas.
Favourable political circumstances also contributed to this
general acknowledgment of Denmark's maritime greatness.
The power of the Hansa had gone ; the Dutch were enfeebled
by their contest with Spain ; England's sea-power was yet in
the making ; Spain, still the greatest of the maritime nations,
was exhausting her resources in the vain effort to conquer the
Dutch." Denmark, of course, did not command the narrow seas
in the strict sense of the term ; but these facts, of which we can
hardly suppose Marlowe to have been entirely ignorant, make
it easy to understand how he should have thought of the ' haughty
Dane ' in this connection.

973. Againe, i.e. against. Compare modern vulgarism ' agin,'
and Edward III, I, ii. 79 :

" again the blasting north-east wind."

979 ff . Thy souldiers marcht like players. The passage is

144 EDWARD II

suggested by Holinshed, p. 322 : " King Edward to be revenged
herof, with a mightie armie bravelie furnished, and gorgiouslie
apparelled, more seemelie for a triumph, than meet to incounter
with the cruell enimie in the field, entred Scotland," etc. The
battle of Bannockburn, June 21, 1314, resulted in a crushing
defeat of the English.

985. Jig, i.e. a lively song, usually short. Oxberry wishes to
explain his misreading ' ligge ' as ' lay.'

986. Maids of England. This ' jig ' is taken by Marlowe from
Fabyan's Chronicle (see reprint of 1811, p. 420), Fabyan's text
differing, however, in one or two unimportant particulars.
Fabyan, after giving the song, goes on : " This songe was after
many dayes sungyn, in daunces, in carolis of ye maydens &
mynstrellys of Scotlande, to the reproof e and disdayne of
Englysshe men, w* dyverse other whiche I over passe." In other
words, it was one of the " vild, uncivil, skipping jigs," that
" Bray forth their conquest and our overthrow, Even in the
barren, bleak, and fruitless air," according to the Countess of
Salisbury in Edward III, I, ii. 13 ff .

987. Lemmons, i.e. lemans.

1000. Edward, unfolde thy pawes. Compare Tamburlaine,
248-9 :

" As princely Lions when they rouse themselves,
Stretching their pawes, and threatening heardes of Beastes," etc.

1001. Lives bloud. Many editors take ' lives ' as plural,
printing ' lives'.' But it is not necessarily plural. Compare
' unto my lives end,' Lyly, Euphues and his England, ii. 25 ;
' her lives deare lord,' Spenser, Faerie Queene, vi., i. 45 ; so
' the wyves charge,' Kyd's Householders Philosophic, 271. The
stock example is ' calveshead,' i.e. ' calf's head.'

1007. And therefore, brother, banish him for ever. Marlowe
means us to understand that Kent has been convinced by the
preceding episode that Gaves ton's banishment is vitally neces-
sary to the welfare of the kingdom. The point, obvious in itself,
is of interest because, in Holinshed, Kent does not appear until
toward the end of the reign, and because, as Tzschaschel remarks
(p. 21), no explanation is there given of his opposition to Edward.
Marlowe is careful to provide full reasons for his action. Here
Kent joins the barons on good grounds. He is captured in the

NOTES 145

battle and is banished, for so we are to understand 1. 1519
(compare 1573). It is natural that he should join the queen and
Mortimer, especially as he is not cognizant of their real designs,
but supposes that they intend to overthrow the Spensers as
Gaveston had been overthrown. Compare 11. 1574, 1642,
1760 fL, 1788.

1029. He threatens civill warres. Compare Tamburlaine, 156 :
" Begin in troopes to threaten civill warre." ' Wars ' is an
instance of what Franz, Shakespeare-Grammatik, p. 34, calls the
use of a plural to express a general idea : ' to threaten wars '
is the same as ' to threaten war.' He cites many instances from
Shakespeare, e.g. Coriolanus, I, iii. 112, as well as ' seas/
3 Henry VI, I, i. 239 (see 1. 964 above) ; so ' moneys/ Merchant
of Venice, I, iii. 120, ' letters/ Measure for Measure, IV, iii. 97.
Compare ' Heavens/ 11. 1104, 1997, and see Schau, Sprache
und Grammatik der Dramen Marlowes, 1901, 21.

1045. Well alied, i.e. of good family. 'Allies' was used for
' kinsfolk/ as in Lyly's Euphues, II, 19.

1049. Stile, i.e. title ; a frequent use of the term.

1054. Our neece. The elder Gilbert de Clare (see note on 719)
had married Joan of Acre, sister of Edward II. Thus both of
Edward's favourites were closely allied to him in marriage.

1061. st. Air. Enter Lancaster. Scene 7. Near Tynmouth
Castle (Dyce).

1068. He is your brother, therefore have we cause. So in
3 Henry VI, IV, ii. 6 ff., after Clarence has suddenly joined War-
wick and Oxford, Warwick says :

" I hold it cowardice
To rest mistrustful where a noble heart
Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love ;
Else might I think that Clarence, Edward's brother,
Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings."

1075. / have enformed the Earle of Lancaster. We must
assume that between 11. 1066-7 and tms une Kent has found
some opportunity of speaking in private to Lancaster.

1076. Now, my lords, know this. The capture and execution
of Gaveston are thus related by Holinshed.

" The lords perceiving the mischeefe that dailie followed and
increased by that naughtie man (as they tooke it) the earle of

146

EDWARD II

Cornewall, assembled at Lincolne [1311], . . . and concluded
eftsoones to banish him out of the realme, and so thereupon
shortlie after, about Christmasse (as some write) or rather, as
other have, within the quindene of saint Michaell, he was exiled
into Flanders, sore against the kings will and pleasure, who made
such account of him, that (as appeared) he could not be quiet in
mind without his companie, & therefore about Candlemasse he
eftsoones revoked him home.

" But he being nothing at all amended of those his evill
manners, rather demeaned himselfe woorse than before he had
doone, namelie towards the lords, against whome using reproch-
full speech, he called the earle of Glocester bastard, the earle of
Lincolne latlie deceased bursten bellie, the earle of Warwike the
blacke hound of Arderne, and the earle of Lancaster churle.
Such lords and other more that were thus abused at this earle of
Cornewals hands, determined to be revenged upon him, and to
dispatch the realme of such a wicked person : and thereupon
assembling their powers togither, came towards Newcastell,
whither the king from Yorke was remooved, and now hearing
of their approch, he got him to Tinmouth, where the queene laie,
and understanding there that Newcastell was taken by the lords,
he leaving the queene behind him, tooke shipping, and sailed
from thence with his dearelie belooved familiar the earle of
Cornewall, unto Scarbourgh, where he left him in the castell,
and rode himselfe towards Warwike. The lords hearing where
the earle of Cornwall was, made thither with all speed, and
besieging the castell, at length constreined their enemie to yeeld
himselfe into their hands, requiring no other condition, but that
he might come to the kings presence to talke with him.

" The king hearing that his best beloved familiar was thus
apprehended, sent to the lords, requiring them to spare his life,
and that he might be brought to his presence, promising withall
that he would see them fullie satisfied in all their requests against
him. Whereupon the earle of Penbroke persuaded with the
barons to grant to the kings desire, undertaking upon forfeiture
of all that he had, to bring him to the king and backe againe to
them, in such state and condition as he received him. When the
barons had consented to his motion, he tooke the earle of Corne-
wall with him to bring him where the king laie, and comming to
Dedington, left him there in safe keeping with his servants,
whilest he for one night went to visit his wife, lieng not farre
from thence.

NOTES 147

" The same night it chanced, that Guie erle of Warwike came
to the verie place where the erle of Cornwall was left, and taking
him from his keepers, brought him unto Warwike, where in-
continentlie it was thought best to put him to death, but that
some doubting the kings displeasure, advised the residue to
staie ; and so they did, till at length an ancient grave man
amongst them exhorted them to use the occasion now offered,
and not to let slip the meane to deliver the realme of such a
dangerous person, that had wrought so much mischeefe,and might
turne them all to such perill, as afterwards they should not be
able to avoid, nor find shift how to remedie it. And thus per-
suaded by his words, they caused him streitwaies to be brought
foorth to a place called Blackelow, otherwise named by most
writers, Gaverslie heath, where he had his head smitten from
his shoulders, the twentith day of June being tuesdaie. . . .

" When the king had knowledge hereof, he was woonderfullie
displeased with those lords that had thus put the said earle unto
death, making his vow that he would see his death revenged, so
that the rancour which before was kindled betwixt the king and
those lords, began now to blase abroad, and spred so farre, that
the king ever sought occasion how to worke them displeasure.
. . . King Edward now after that the foresaid Piers Gaveston
the earle of Cornewall was dead, nothing reformed his maners,
but . . . chose such to be about him, and to be of his privie
councell, which were knowne to be men of corrupt and most
wicked living (as the writers of that age report) amongst these
were two of the Spensers, Hugh the father, and Hugh the sonne,
which were notable instruments to bring him unto the liking of
all kind of naughtie and evill rule.

" By the counsell therefore of these Spensers, he was wholie
lead and governed : wherewith manie were much offended, but
namelie Robert the archbishop of Canturburie, who foresaw
what mischeefe was like to insue : and therefore to provide
some remedie in time, he procured that a parlement was called
at London [1312]. In the which manie good ordinances and
statutes were devised and established, to oppresse the riots,
misgovernance, and other mischeefes which as then were used :
and to keepe those ordinances, the king first, and after his lords
received a solemne oth, that in no wise neither he nor they should
breake them. By this means was the state of the realme newlie
restored, and new councellours placed about the king. But he
neither regarding what he had sworne, neither weieng the force

148 EDWARD II

of an oth, observed afterwards none of those things, which by
his oth he had bound himself e to observe. And no mar veil :
for suerlie . . . the lords wrested him too much, and beyond
the bounds of reason, causing him to receive to be about him
whome it pleased them to appoint. For the yoonger Spenser,
who in place of the earle of Cornwall was ordeined to be his
chamberlaine, it was knowne to them well inough, that the
king bare no good will at all to him at the first, though after-
wards through the prudent policie, and diligent Industrie of the
man, he quicklie crept into his favour, and that further than
those that preferred him could have wished." (Holinshed,
320-1.)

1077. Gaveston is secretlie arrivde. But Gaveston has been at
Tynmouth since 1. 849, and the nobles were present at his arrival.
Tancock says that Marlowe had in mind a ' secret joining of the
King in the north, contrary to the King's express promise and
agreement with the Barons,' which the authorities spoke of ;
but no secret meeting is mentioned by the authorities. The
meeting at Chester is apparently the one Tancock refers to
(see his notes on this line, as well as on 1. 800), and Holinshed
certainly does not say that it was secret (see extract under
1. 208).

1078. Here in Tinmoth /rollicks with the king. Between
Gaveston's banishment to Ireland and the attack upon Tin-
mouth, there intervened another banishment of a few weeks.
Marlowe has passed this over for good reasons. To dramatize
it would have resulted in repetition of motives and situations
without any corresponding gain. The same statement holds
true for the following passage from Holinshed, p. 320 :

' The king this yeare [1310] fearing the en vie of the lords
against Peers de Gaveston, placed him for his more safetie in
Bambourgh castell, bearing the prelats and lords in hand, that
he had committed him there to prison for their pleasures."

1082. Tottered. This was a common spelling for ' tattered/
as in Jew of Malta, 1858 : "He sent a shaggy totter'd staring
slave."

1084. Whereof we got the name of Mortimer. This was the
traditional etymology of ' Mortimer,' and was believed in at
that time. But the name does not come from ' Mortuum Mare,'
but from ' Mortemer,' a Norman village. This, being Latinized,

NOTES 149

became ' Mortuo Mari,' or v de Mortuo Mari/ as used in deeds
and the like, and the tradition would easily spring up. Verity
notes that Drayton, in the letter, ' Mortimer to Queen Isabel,'
Heroical Epistles, employs the same derivation.

1085. This castell walles, i.e. the walls of this castle. Compare
' their citie walles/ ' thy castle walles,' Tamburlaine, 1641, 3379.
Hence Brooke's conjecture ' thes,' i.e. ' these,' is quite un-
necessary.

1089. st. dir. Enter the king. Scene 8. Within Tynmouth
Castle (Dyce).

1104. Heavens can witnesse. See note on 1. 1029, and compare
Greene's Looking-Glass for London and England, 1. 2014 :
" Heavens are propitious unto faithful praiers."

1106-7. 0 that mine armes . . . where I would. Compare
Dido, 1305 ff. :

" O that I had a charme to keepe the windes
Within the closure of a golden ball,
Or that the Tyrrhen sea were in mine armes,
That he might suffer shipwracke on my breast,
As oft as he attempts to hoyst up saile."

1 1 10. st. dir. Enter the Barons alarums. Brooke places a
comma after ' Barons,' thus changing the meaning of the stage
direction considerably. ' Barons ' is in the possessive case,
however, and ' alarums,' i.e. ' alarms,' which ordinarily means
in Elizabethan stage directions the signals of drum and trumpet
with which a battle was conducted, seems here to be used as in
Dry den's Abs. and Achit., II, 567 :

" Even so the doubtful nations watch his arms,
With terror each expecting his alarms."

i in. / wonder how he scapt. Verity, Harness Prize essay,
previously cited, p. 108, notes the opening of 3 Henry VI :
" I wonder how the king escaped our hands."

1129. F or slow e. This is a common word in Elizabethan
literature ; Marlowe has it in Ovid's Elegies, III, vi. 46, and
Lyly uses it in Euphues, Works, ed. Bond, I, 266.

1130. Is. Brooke says that Cunningham reads ' are,' but he
does not in the copy of ed. 1870 that I have seen, nor in the re-
issue of that edition.

150

EDWARD II

1153. Straunge, i.e. unresponsive, aloof, as in Lyly, ibid., II,

47-

" For I thinke I have not shewed my selfe straunge " ;

and again, 221 :

" I durst not seeme straunge when I founde him so curteous."

1158. st. dir. Enter Gaveston. Scene 9. As Dyce remarks,
there is much uncertainty about the exact location of this
scene ; yet it must be near Scarborough, as we know from what
precedes. As a matter of history, Gaveston was captured in
Scarborough Castle, which he surrendered to the besiegers.

1163. Malgrado, i.e. in spite of, an Italian word common at
the time and used instead of ' maugre/ from French ' mal
gre.'

1173. Traind, i.e. enticed. Compare ' trains/ 1. 1489. With
11. 1173-4 compare Tamburlaine, 3055-6 :

" Hellen, whose beauty sommond Greece to armes,
And drew a thousand ships to Tenedos,"

and Faustus, 1328 :

" Was this the face that lancht a thousand shippes ? "

With the last line Ward, in his ed. of Faustus, compares Troilus
and Cressida, II, ii. 81-2 :

" She is a pearl,
Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships."

And he goes on : " This beautiful passage . . . was no doubt
originally suggested by the passage in the Iliad, iii. 156, where
the old men of Troy, on seeing Helen appear in her beauty on
the walls, declare her worth the war caused by her." But
Lucian, in the xviiith of his Dialogues of the Dead, has a closer
passage (Fowler's translation) :

"Her. This skull is Helen.

Me. And for this a thousand ships carried warriors from every
part of Greece ; Greeks and barbarians were slain, and cities made
desolate.

Her. Ah, Menippus, you never saw the living Helen," etc.

1185. Thou shall have so much honor at our hands. " After
these words, a line in which Warwick said something about
Gaveston's being beheaded, has dropt out " (Dyce). It is not
absolutely necessary to accept this conjecture, for Warwick's
gestures would make the passage perfectly clear on the stage.

NOTES 151

At least one line, however, was lost from the later editions;
compare 1827, which is found only in the first quarto.

The reader should not fail to remember that hanging was a
death fit only for churls, and that any gentleman could almost
as a matter of right claim the privilege of the axe instead of the
noose.

1191-2. His majesty, etc. The means of reducing the quarto
reading to a manageable pentameter (see the variants) were
suggested by Dyce in his 2nd edition.

1194. For why, i.e. because.

1198. Renowmed, i.e. renowned. The Old French verb ' re-
nommer ' gave an English verb ' to renowm/ The Old French
substantive ' renon ' gave an English substantive ' renown/
Under the influence of the substantive there developed a second-
ary form of the verb, ' to renown/ which has now displaced the
primary form. Under the influence of the verb there developed a
secondary form of the substantive, ' renowm/ which failed to
maintain itself in the language.

Schoeneich, Der Litterarische Einfluss Spensers auf Marlowe,
1907, 77, remarks that, although ' renowmed ' occurs only once
in Edward II, once in Faustus, 170, and twice in Dido, 372,
1168, yet it is found twelve times in Tamburlaine, apparently as
a result of Spenserian influence, which he thinks was stronger
on that play than on the other dramas of Marlowe. His state-
ment that Marlowe always uses the substantive ' renown ' is
not accurate. Compare 1. 1229 ; he had not seen the text of
quarto 1594.

1204. Will not these delates beget my hopes? Editors have
suspected some corruption in this line. What delays does
Gaveston mean ? Various emendations have been proposed,
for which see the variants. Tancock's interpretation, however,
is, if not quite satisfactory, at least preferable to emending the
line. " Gaveston scarcely restrains his scorn for Warwick, and
puts the question to him sarcastically ; then turns seriously to
the other lords and assures them that he has no ' hopes ' of life,
yet still, certain as death is, this small favour might be granted."

1215. In the honor of a king. Compare Tamburlaine, 764,
' in earth ' for ' on earth/ and see Ward's note on 1. 19 of Faustus
in his edition of Faustus and Friar Bacon and Friar Bun gay :

152 EDWARD II

" Modern English would here demand ' on ' ; but the inter-
changes between Elizabethan and modern usage with regard to
the employment of these prepositions are numerous." Franz,
Shakespeare-Grammatik, pp. 234-5, notes the great confusion in
Middle English between ' in ' and ' on/ owing partly to a real
similarity of meaning (as in ' in a chair ' and/ on a chair '), and
partly to the fact that in unaccented instances the two words
would practically coincide. Compare the note on 576 above.
For Marlowe's use of ' in ' and ' on/ see Schau, Sprache, etc.,
Marlowes, 81, 84 f.

1217. When, can you tell? A common phrase, indicating
scornful or incredulous refusal of a request. Compare I Henry
IV, II, i. 42 ff. :

" Gads. I pray thee, lend me thine.

Sec. Car. Ay, when ? canst tell ? Lend me thy lantern, quoth
he ? marry, I'll see thee hanged first."

1220. Zease. See the variants.

1222. In keepe, i.e. in custody ; Taming of the Shrew, I, ii.
118:

" For in Baptista's keep my treasure is."

1242. Had-Iwist, i.e. ' had I known/ " the exclamation of
those who repent of what they have rashly done " (Dyce). So
in Whetstone's Promos and Cassandra, II, ii. :

" Unles Lord Promos graunt me grace, in vayne is had ywist."

1256. st. dir. Manent Penbrooke, Arundell. Dyce explains
the fact that Arundell appears as Mat. and Matr. from this
point on by remarking that the parts of Arundell and Matrevis
were probably played by the same actor, and that in the play-
house copy such a confusion could easily be made. Similar
mistakes are not rare in Elizabethan dramatic texts. Sometimes
the name of the actor himself will appear in place of that of the
person whom he represents. Fleay has made a study of the
play from the point of view of the number of actors required
(see his Introduction, 10), and thinks that all the parts, with the
exception perhaps of the Poor Men, could be taken by about
thirteen actors.

1257. My Lord. ' Of Arundell ' is inserted by some editors on
the basis of a suggestion of Dyce.

NOTES 153

1263. Adamant, that is, magnet, as in Lyly, Euphues, I, 321 :
" And yet it is no great mervaile fort by experience we see yt
the Adamant cannot drawe yron if ye Diamond lye by it, nor
vice allure ye courtier if vertue be retained."

1269. st. dir. Exit cum servis Pen. Bullen translates this as
" Exit with James and Pembroke's men," i.e. Gaveston goes
out. So Tancock and Dyce. Fleay, however, has " Exit
Pembroke, with his men," so that Gaveston remains behind,
and the speech of the Horse-boy is addressed to him.

1271. 0 treacherous Warwicke. Scene 10. Another part of
the country (Dyce) . Holinshed says that Gaveston was captured
by Warwick in Deddington (see note under 1076). L. 1259
seems to indicate that he was to be taken to Cobham. On the
Elizabethan stage, with its indeterminate locations, such matters
were not of importance, except when a clear understanding of
the plot depended on them, and then the dialogue was carefully
arranged with a view to giving the hearer the requisite informa-
tion.

1273. Bands, that is, bonds.

1275. Center of all my Uisse. This expression has not yet
received satisfactory interpretation. Tancock : " The meaning
is, ' Must this day, which was to be, which seemed to be, the
point on which all bliss centred since on it I was to see the King,
must this day be the end of my life ? What a melancholy
contrast ! ' The very thought of the ' bliss ' bids him urge
Pembroke's men to speed to the King. In an almost parallel
passage [1898], all misfortune ' centres ' on the day which is
' the last of all my bliss/ of being king." But the two passages
are not parallel, except verbally, and the difference consists in
the very fact that it is bliss which centres in the one case and
misfortune in the other, though the time of the centring is the
same. L. 1898 is perfectly clear, and Tancock's explanation of
this line evidently forces the sense. McLaughlin says : " Centre
apparently is used, as often, for the middle of the earth, and
therefore the lowest spot for falling. So Wiclif (Murray, s.v.),
' As the centre is the lowest of all things.' It is perhaps in
keeping with the spirited tone of the speech to accept the
punctuation that puts an interrogation after * life,' and an
exclamation after ' bliss,' making ' centre of all my bliss ! ' his
thought's apostrophe to the king. This is effective, and is borne

EDWARD II

out by Edward's ' centre of all misfortune/ in [1898], yet it
seems unlike Marlowe." Quite unlike Marlowe, one thinks.
Such a ' thought's apostrophe ' would never be understood by
the audience ; it represents a kind of obscurity of which Marlowe
is never guilty, for the obscurity does not arise from the use of a
word in an unfamiliar sense, but from the use of a figure of
speech the relation of which to the context is not clear and could
not be made clear by gesture or facial expression. Nor is it an
obscurity like that commented on in the note to 1. 1185, where
the obscurity exists perhaps for the reader, but would not for the
spectator. The second suggestion of McLaughlin, based on the
punctuation of Cunningham and Wagner, is certainly to be
rejected unhesitatingly, and we should fall back on his first
suggestion, namely, that ' centre ' is used in the sense of ' the
lowest place for falling.'

1284. Shadow. Fleay's interpretation of ' shadow ' as ' repre-
sentative, plenipotentiary,' is almost ludicrously ineffective. I
might refer here, on the occasion of Gaveston's last appearance,
to a curious superstition that seems later to have grown up
regarding him, but of which I have found only a single trace.
" En Angleterre, le roy Edouard tenait Gaveston, qui enfin fut
trouve diable desguise, et fut cause que le roy fist mourir des
bons seigneurs ; dont, pour sa juste recompense, ce roy Edouard
fut vif embroche en fer bruslant " (Varietes Historiques et
Litteraires, ed. Fournier, 1856, vi. 205, in a tract entitled Les
choses horribles contenue en une lettre envoyee a Henry de Valois,
etc., 1589). Of course, the superstition that Gaveston had him-
self employed witchcraft in gaining the affection of Edward,
and that his mother was a witch, is well known, and was, for
example, utilized by Drayton in his Legend of Pierce Gaveston.

1289. / long to heare an answer from the Barons. Scene n.
" This scene may be supposed to pass in Yorkshire. The reader
must have already perceived how little Marlowe thought about
the location of the scenes " (Dyce). The composite character
of this scene is well illustrated by Fleay's analysis of it. LI.
1289-1319 deal with the year 1312 (Fleay has 1311, but Gaveston
was put to death in 1312) ; 1320-45 deal with the year 1320
or thereabout, for it was then that the Despensers acquired
their influence over the king ; 1346-76 deal with the year
1325, in which Isabella went to France, ostensibly as Edward's
representative ; 1377-1435 deal with the period just after

NOTES 155

Gaveston's murder in 1312 ; 1435-72 with Edward's campaign
against the Barons in 1321-2 (Fleay, 1320). By means of this
skilfully constructed scene, in other words, Marlowe passes over
a period of about eight years, and knits the events of the last
part of the king's reign closely with those of the first five years

1300. Longshankes. This was the self-explanatory nickname
of Edward I. In the first scene of Peele's Edward I Edward's
mother calls the king Longshanks, and the name had become so
identified with him, that as the present passage shows, it was not
thought in the least undignified. Edward I was of unusual
stature, " exceeding the height of the ordinary man by a head
and shoulders," according to Trivet (Tout, Political History of
England, III, 136).

1307. Counterbuft. A ' counterbuff ' is a blow struck counter,
that is, in an opposite direction, so that the object is driven
back or made to recoil, as in Kyd's translation of Cornelia, V, i.

193:

" One while the top doth almost touch the earth,
And then it riseth with a counterbuffe."

1315. Powle their tops. The figure is that of cutting off the
top of a tree and thus making a pollard of it. Compare Richard
II, III, iv. 34 f. :

" Cut off the heads of too-fast-growing sprays,
That look too lofty in our commonwealth :
All must be even in our government."

Fleay, however, takes ' powle ' as meaning ' pole/ on the strength
of 11. 118, 1308, together with the last scene in Macbeth, in which,
he says, " the tyrant's head is brought in on a pole." ' To pole
their tops ' would be a curious phrase.

1316. Haught. This word, often spelled ' haut,' and derived
from Fr. haut, is a doublet of ' haughty,' Fr. hautain, and is
common in Elizabethan English. Compare the quotation under
1. 2065 below.

1317. Affection, i.e. caprice ; but ' affections ' ordinarily
meant passions or emotions, as in Lyly, Euphues, I, 185 : " and
followed unbrideled affection, most pleasant for his tooth."
So in Tamburlaine, 359 : " His deep affections make him
passionate."

156 EDWARD II

1318. As though your highnes were a schoole boy still. So in
i Henry VI, I, i. 35-6 :

" None do you like but an effeminate prince,
Whom, like a school-boy, you may over-awe."

1324 ff. Loe, withabandof bowmen and of pikes. The following
lines have more than a tinge of Marlowe's earlier declamatory
style, as in Tamburlaine, 2682 ff. :

" Ther. My Lord the great and mighty Tamburlain,

Arch-Monarke of the world, I offer here,

My crowne, my selfe, and all the power I have,

In all affection at thy kingly feet.

Tarn. Thanks good Theridamas.

Ther. Under my collors march ten thousand Greeks
And of Argier and Affriks frontier townes,
Twise twenty thousand valiant men at armes," etc.

1337. Earle of Wilshire. Tancock rightly says that Edward
is here speaking to the younger Spenser. In 1. 1532 the elder
Spenser is referred to as " my lord of Winchester/' for, although
Marlowe does not mention the fact, he was created earl of
Winchester in 1322, after the battle of Boroughbridge. Tancock
says : "It is possible that, since in Marlowe's time, as now, the
eldest son of the Marquess of Winchester bore the title of Earl of
Wiltshire, he antedated the connexion between the titles pur-
posely." Historically the younger Spenser was not given this
earldom.

1343. Thou shalt have crownes of us, £ outbid the Barons. This
line furnishes additional proof that in 1337 Edward was speaking
to the younger Spenser. " About this season [1321], the lord
William de Bruce that in the marches of Wales enioied diverse
faire possessions to him descended from his ancestors, but
through want of good governement was run behind hand, offered
to sell a certeine portion of his lands called Gowers land lieng in
the marches there, unto diverse noble men that had their lands
adioining to the same, as to the earle of Hereford, and to the
two lords Mortimers, the uncle & nephue, albeit the lord Mow-
braie that had maried the onelie daughter and heire of the lord
Bruce, thought verelie in the end to have had it, as due to his
wife by right of inheritance. But at length (as unhap would)
Hugh Spenser the yoonger lord chamberleine, coveting that land
(bicause it laie neere on each side to other lands that he had in
those parts) found such means through the kings furtherance

NOTES 157

and helpe, that he went awaie with the purchase, to the great
displeasure of the other lords that had beene in hand to buie it."
(Holinshed, 325.)

1346. st. dir. Enter the Queene and her sonne, and Levune.
This is the first appearance of the prince ; from this point on
the queen very rarely appears unaccompanied by him. Examin-
ing Holinshed, we can see the reasons for this. Except for the
mention of his birth, Prince Edward has no attention paid him
by the chronicler until this point in the narrative is reached and
he goes to France to do homage for the French lands. Thence-
forward he is frequently referred to, but always, of course, in
connection with the queen's plots.

Levune is not mentioned by Holinshed.

1352. Hath seazed Normandie into his hands. Marlowe doubt-
less uses the name of Normandy because it was more familiar to
his audience, but in reality not Normandy, but Ponthieu and
Guienne were in question. " The French K. being latelie come
to the crowne [Charles IV, who came to the throne in 1322],
sent certeine ambassadors unto king Edward, to wit, the lord
Beoville, and one Andreas de Florentia a notarie, to give summons
unto him from the French king, to come and doo homage for
the lands which he held in France, as for the duchie of Aquitaine,
and the countie of Pontieu. And though the lord chamberleine
Hugh Spenser the sonne, and the lord chancellour Robert
Baldocke did what they could to procure these ambassadors,
not to declare the cause of their comming to the king, yet when
they should depart, they admonished the king to come and doo
his homage unto the French king, and upon this admonition the
said Andreas framed a publike instrument, by vertue whereof,
the French king made processe against the king of England, and
seized into his hands diverse townes and castels in Aquitaine,
alledging that he did it for the contumacie shewed by the king
of England, in refusing to come to doo his homage, being lawfullie
summoned, although the king was throughlie informed, that the
summons was neither lawfull, nor touched him anie thing at
all." (Holinshed, 334, sub anno 1323.) Edward sent various
representatives to France, who failed to effect a satisfactory
settlement, and hostilities were engaged in before the point
arrived at by Marlowe in 1. 1357 f . See below.

I357~-S- Madam, in this matter, We will employ you and your

158 EDWARD II

little sonne. " Finally [1325] it was thought good, that the
queene shuld go over to hir brother the French king, to confirme
that treatie of peace upon some reasonable conditions. She
willinglie tooke upon hir the charge, and so with the lord John
Crumwell, & other foure knights, without any other great
traine, taking sea, she landed in France, where of the king hir
brother she was joifullie received, and finallie she being the
mediatrix, it was finallie accorded, that the K. of England
should give to his eldest sonne the duchie of Aquitaine, and the
countie of Pontieu, and that the French king receiving homage
of him for the same, he should restore into his hands the said
countie, and the lands in Guien, for the which they were at
variance, and for those countries which had beene forraied and
spoiled, the earle of Aniou should fullie see him satisfied, as
right did require.

" Upon the covenants the French king wrote his letters patents
into England, and other letters also of safe conduct, as well for
the sonne as for the king himselfe, if it should please him to come
over himselfe in person. Upon which choise great deliberation
was had, as well at Langdon, as at Dover, diverse thinking it
best that the king should go over himselfe; but the earle of
Winchester and his sonne the lord chamberleine, that neither
durst go over themselves with the king, nor abide at home in his
absence, gave contrarie counsell, and at length prevailed so,
that it was fullie determined that the kings eldest sonne Edward
should go over, which turned to their destruction, as it appeared
afterward.

"... the morrow after the Nativitie of our ladie, and on the
thursdaie following, the kings sonne tooke the sea, and with
him," etc. (Holinshed, 336.)

1377-1435. What, lord Arundell, etc. Fleay suggests that this
passage " should come after line [1319], not for chronological
accuracy (Marlowe cared little for that), but in the natural
sequence of the story."

1415. To fire them from their starting holes. ( Starting-holes '
was a hunting term, applied to holes in which wild animals
might take refuge and from which they might be started by
means of fire. Compare 1. 1817.

1416 ff. By earth, the common mother of us all. See note on
1. 2096. Schoeneich (compare note on 1. 748), cites Faerie

NOTES 159

Queene, II, i. 10, as the source of this line : " As on the earth,
great mother of us all." In this thesis Schoeneich has collected
a number of Spenser and Marlowe parallels, some of which had
been noticed before by Dyce, Crawford, and others, that have
real significance, but he has vitiated his results unfortunately
by bringing forward a good many cases in which there is no
reason to suppose relation of any kind. The coincidence of
language in this instance is perhaps significant, but the idea is
universal.

1420. / will have heads and lives for him as many, etc. Verity,
in the essay already several times cited, p. 108, compares
3 Henry VI, I, i. 95-7 :

" Plantagenet, of thee and these thy sons,
Thy kinsmen and thy friends, I'll have more lives
Than drops of blood were in my father's veins."

1434. Earle of Gloster, and lord Chamberlaine. On p. 325
Holinshed says that " Hugh the sonne was made high chamber-
leine of England, contrarie to the mind of all the noblemen."
Spenser had married the eldest sister of the younger Gilbert de
Clare, earl of Gloucester ; on that account he was sometimes
called ' Earl of Gloucester,' and Holinshed more than once gives
him that title, though he had no claim to it.

1440. I wis, i.e. I know. The phrase was the result of popular
misunderstanding of Middle English ' ywis,' which came from
Anglo-Saxon ' gewis,' meaning ' certainly.' As the prefix y
came to be unintelligible in its proper sense, it was identified
with the pronoun I. There was no form in the language from
which ' I wis ' could be legitimately derived.

1446. Plainer, that is, ' complainer.' The simple verb, ' to
plain,' is still possible in poetry, but the noun has gone out of
usage.

1450. This Spencer, as a putrifying branche. " Thus all
the kings exploits by one means or other quailed, and came
but to evill successe, so that the English nation began to
grow in contempt by the infortunate government of the prince,
the which as one out of the right waie, rashlie and with no good
advisement ordered his dooings, which thing so greeved the
noblemen of the realme, that they studied day and night by
what means they might procure him to looke better to his office
T

160 EDWARD II

and dutie ; which they judged might well be brought to passe,
his nature being not altogither evill, if they might find shift to
remoove from him the two Spensers, Hugh the father, and Hugh
the sonne, who were gotten into such favour with him, that they
onelie did all things, and without them nothing was doone, so
that they were now had in as great hatred and indignation . . .
both of the lords and commons, as ever in times past was Peers
de Gaveston the late earle of Cornwall. But the lords minded
not so much the destruction of these Spensers, but that the king
ment as much their advancement, so that Hugh the sonne was
made high chamberleine of England, contrairie to the mind of
all the noblemen, by reason whereof he bare himself e so hautie
and proud, that no lord within the land might gainsaie that
which in his conceit seemed good." (Holinshed, 325.)

1468. Edward with fire and sword followes at thy heeles. Mar-
lowe's Edward is not so absolutely a weakling as to be incapable
of spasmodic bursts of energy upon sufficient occasion. Holin-
shed does not emphasize this phase of the king's character, but
an attentive reader of the chronicle cannot fail to realize that
Marlowe is here again simply translating events into character.
Holinshed goes no further than to say, p. 342, that Edward did
not lack ' stoutnesse of stomach,' if only his evil counsellors had
permitted him to display that quality in honourable exploits.

1471. We marche to make them stoope. Lancaster was defeated
in two battles in the year 1322, but Marlowe has condensed
them into one. In the battle of Burton-on-Trent, fought early
in March, Edward was present, and his forces made several
fruitless attempts to cross the river before they were finally
successful in doing so. This feature of the battle was evidently
what gave rise to 11. 1473-81. At Boroughbridge, fought
1 8th March, Edward was not present, and Sir Andrew Harkley
was in command. He brought Lancaster as prisoner to the
king.

As the events leading up to this struggle were not utilized by
Marlowe (see Introduction, pp. ci.-cii.), a brief account of them
should perhaps be here given.

The continued incompetence of Edward's government dis-
tracted the kingdom for some years after the death of Gaveston,
and its evil effects were driven home by pestilence and constant
warfare with Scotland. It was not, however, until 1321 that
open war broke out once again between the king and his peers.

NOTES 161

The greed of the Spensers, and the hatred of them on the part of
the nobles, brought matters then to a head. In that year the
possessions of the Spensers in the Welsh march were attacked,
and their lands plundered. Then the Spensers were themselves
banished by parliament. In the same year occurred the insult
offered to the queen at the castle of Badlesmere. Fired by this,
Edward took up arms, besieged and took the castle, and exacted
revenge. For this purpose he was able to raise a large force,
and he seized upon the opportunity to obtain a revenge that
doubtless sat still nearer his heart. Lancaster, incompetent
chief of opposition, had alienated many of his own party, and
had neglected his opportunities. He was attacked, defeated,
captured, and put to death in 1322. Edward had recalled the
Spensers from banishment shortly beforehand.

1472. st. dir. Alarums, excursions. Scene 12. Dyce does not
make a new scene at this point, but it seems well to do so, as the
stage, according to the preceding direction, was empty of figures
(for the principle involved in marking this division, but in passing
over others where the scene changes without the characters
leaving the stage, see G. F. Reynolds, Modern Phil., ix. 79, 82,
note). ' Excursions ' means the passage across the stage of
small bodies of soldiers in simulation of a battle.

1483. Looke, Lancaster, yonder is Edward. It wras more or
less characteristic of battle-scenes on the Elizabethan stage that
they should be preceded by a confrontation of the opposing
leaders, who indulged in mutual recrimination and upbraiding.
(See Fischer, Kunstentwicklung der Engl. Tragodie, 107, 129.)
Marlowe has varied somewhat from the type by placing the
scene in the midst of the battle rather than just before it.
(Compare note on 1471.)

1489. Th'ad best betimes forsake them and their trains. The
correction of ' thee ' of the quartos (followed by all editors
except Brooke) to ' them ' is imperative, and I had made it
before seeing Brooke's edition. ' Th'ad ' is to be taken as ' thou
had,' for if taken as ' they had ' the line does not make sense.
The form ' had ' need not stand in the way of such an inter-
pretation. Compare 11. 1524, 2195-6, and see the examples
cited by Franz, Shakespeare-Grammatik, pp. 1-2.

1502. Make Englands civill townes huge heapes of stones. The

162 EDWARD II

suggestion of this line came pretty clearly from Marlowe's own
work in translating Lucan. Compare 11. 25-6 :

" That rampiers fallen down, huge heapes of stone
Lye in our townes, that houses are abandon' d," etc.

One might also notice in connection with the next line, Greene's
James IV, 1977 : " The plough shall furrow where the pallace
stood."

1505. Saint George for England. But Saint George was not
officially the patron of England until the reign of Edward III.

1508. Now, lustie lords. Scene 13. Another part of the
field (Dyce). Dyce makes a new scene here, but there is no more
reason for doing so than at 1. 1472.

1529. Tis but temporall that thou canst inflict. Compare
Peele's Edward I, scene 5, 55 : " It is but temporal that you can
inflict."

1530. Die to live. The expression is a conventional one, as in
Lyly, Euphues, I, 308-9 : "So shouldest thou lyve as thou
mayst dye, and then shalt thou dye to lyve." So in Kyd's
Cornelia, IV, ii. 135 : " But so to die, as dying I may live."
The general sentiment of Lancaster's speech is much like that of
Benvolio in the 1616 quarto of Faustus, 1313 : " We'le rather
die with griefe, then live with shame." Lancaster has, however,
modified the conventional phrase with some reference to the
well-known Latin saying, Melius virtute mori quam per dedecus
vivere. In I, iv. of Tourneur's Revenger's Tragedy, where the
Latin saying occurs, is found a few lines later, " To die with poison
than to live with shame."

1532. My lord of Winchester. Spenser the father was made
earl of Winchester in the parliament following the battle of
Boroughbridge.

1533. Warwicke. Warwick had died in 1315 (see Introduction
p. ciii.). " Guie earle of Warwike, a man of great counsell and
skilfull providence, departed this life this yeare, and was buried
at the abbeie of Bordisley " (Holinshed, 323).

X534- Off with both their heads. " Thus the king seemed to
be revenged of the displeasure doone to him by the earle of
Lancaster, for the beheading of Peers de Gaveston earle of
Cornewall, whom he so deerelie loved, and bicause the erle of

NOTES 163

Lancaster was the cheefe occasioner of his death, the king never
loved him entirelie after. ... In this sort came the mightie
earle of Lancaster to his end, being the greatest peere in the
realme, and one of the mightiest earles in christendome : for
when he began to leavie warre against the king, he was possessed
of five earledomes, Lancaster, Lincolne, Salisburie, Leicester,
and Derbie [see 1. 102], beside other seigniories, lands, and
possessions, great to his advancement in honor and puissance "
(Holinshed, 331). Lancaster was not put to death quite in the
summary fashion of the play, but was first tried and condemned
of treason by a commission appointed by Edward.

Fischer, Kunstentwicklung der Engl. Tragodie, 124, appears to
have misunderstood the play at this point. Speaking of Edward,
he says : "In der Verblendung des Sieges racht er sich iiber-
grausam. Dadurch erwachst der Opposition, zu der sich nun in
siindhafter Liebe fur Mortimer auch die Konigin gesellt, neue
Kraft." But no Elizabethan would have for a moment con-
sidered that Edward's action in putting Lancaster and Warwick
to death was ' iibergrausam.' They had been guilty of treason
in the full sense of the word, and the penalty they paid was the
penalty to which they had with full understanding laid themselves
liable. In addition, of course, there were personal reasons of deep
weight for Edward's action. Nor is his condemnation of these
lords the cause of the new life infused into the opposition. The
queen, as we see from 11. 1555 ff ., had already begun her machina-
tions against him. Mortimer would have joined her in any case,
and the misgovernment of the king has been painted in such
colours (11. 951 ff.) that we have no difficulty in understanding
how the overthrow of the king should take place with the
approval of the country in general. In any case, Marlowe does
not give any indications that he took the point of view Fischer
attributes to him.

1539. Mortimer to the tower. Marlowe supplies no explanation
of the lenient treatment of Mortimer. We should expect him
to share the fate of Lancaster and Warwick, because of the part
taken by him in the struggle against Gaveston, because of his
violent demeanour earlier in the play, and because of the sus-
picion entertained by Edward in lines 439 ff. With regard to
the last point, it should be noted that Edward exhibits little
sense of personal injury on account of the supposed love-affair,
and that his anger is mainly aroused against the Barons as

164 EDWARD II

opponents of the royal prerogative. Of course, Marlowe could
not have beheaded Mortimer at this point, for he should have
had no play left. Historically the facts are, first, that Mortimer
was not present at this battle, but had submitted earlier to the
king and been imprisoned ; second, that he had had nothing
whatever to do with the opposition to Gaveston ; third, that
his amour with Isabella seems to have begun after the escape to
France. Nevertheless, Marlowe's failure to explain Mortimer's
imprisonment affords an additional example of the way in
which he was hampered by the historical character of his material.
Holinshed, who relates Mortimer's escape from the Tower, does
not tell us how he came to be imprisoned, so that Marlowe is not
contradicting his authority.

1543. Ragged. One might suspect here a misprint for ' rugged/
were it not that a number of instances of a similar use of ' ragged '
occur. In Richard III, IV, i. 102, Queen Elizabeth addresses
the Tower as ' rude ragged nurse,' and in Lyly's Euphues, 1, 181,
we are told that painting is meeter for ' ragged walls ' than fine
marble.

1549. Levune, the trust that we repose in thee. Illustration of
this and the immediately following speeches demands a rather
long extract from Holinshed, 336-7 : "In the beginning of the
next spring [1325], king Edward sent into France unto his wife
and sonne, commanding them, now that they had made an end
of their businesse, to returne home with all convenient speed.
The queene receiving the message from hir husband, whether it
was so that she was staied by hir brother, unto whome belike
she had complained after what manner she was used at hir
husbands hands, being had in no regard with him : or for that
she had no mind to returne home, bicause she was loth to see all
things ordered out of frame by the counsell of the Spensers,
whereof to heare she was wearie : or whether (as the manner of
women is) she was long about to prepare hir selfe forward, she
slacked all the summer, and sent letters ever to excuse hir
tarriance. But yet bicause she would not run in any suspicion
with hir husband, she sent diverse of hir folkes before hir into
England by soft journies. . . .

"... King Edward not a little offended with king Charles,
by whose meanes he knew that the woman thus lingered abroad,
he procured pope John to write his letters unto the French king,
admonishing him to send home his sister and hir sonne unto hir

NOTES 165

husband. But when this nothing availed, a proclamation was
made in the moneth of December, the nineteenth yeare of this
kings reigne, that if the queene and hir sonne entred not the land
by the octaves of the Epiphanie next insuing in peaceable wise,
they should be taken for enimies to the realme and crowne of
England. Here authors varie, for some write, that upon know-
ledge had of this proclamation, the queene determined to returne
into England foorthwith, that she might be reconciled to hir
husband.

" Others write, and that more truelie, how she being highlie
displeased, both with the Spensers and the king hir husband,
that suffered himselfe to be misled by their counsels, did appoint
indeed to returne into England, not to be reconciled, but to stir
the people to some rebellion, wherby she might revenge hir
manifold injuries. Which (as the proof e of the thing shewed)
seemeth to be most true, for she being a wise woman, & con-
sidering that sith the Spensers had excluded, put out, and
remooved all good men, from and besides the kings councell,
and placed in their roomes such of their clients, servants and
freends as pleased them, she might well thinke that there was
small hope to be had in hir husband, who heard no man but the
said Spensers, which she knew hated hir deadlie. Whereupon,
after that the tearme prefixed in the proclamation was expired,
the king caused to be seized into his hands, all such lands, as
belonged either to his sonne, or to his wife. . . .

" The king of England stood not onelie in doubt of the French-
men, but more of his owne people that remained in France, least
they thorough helpe of the French should invade the land, and
therefore he commanded the havens and ports to be suerlie
watched, lest some sudden invasion might happilie be attempted,
for it was well understood, that the queene meant not to returne,
till she might bring with hir the lord Mortimer, and the other
banished men, who in no wise could obteine anie favour at the
kings hands, so long as the Spensers bare rule. . . .

" King Edward understanding all the queenes drift, at length
sought the French kings favour, and did so much by letters and
promise of bribes with him and his councell, that queene Isabell
was destitute in manner of all helpe there, so that she was glad
to withdraw into Heinault, by the comfort of John the lord
Beaumont, the earle of Heinault his brother, who being then in
the court of France, and lamenting queene Isabels case, imagined
with himselfe of some marriage that might be had betwixt the

166 EDWARD II

yoong prince of Wales, and some of the daughters of his brother
the earle of Heinault, and thereupon required hir to go into
Heinault, and he would be glad to attend hir. She gladlie con-
senting thereto, went thither with him, where she was most
joifullie received with hir sonne, and all other of hir traine.

" The Spensers (some write) procured hir banishment out of
France, and that she was advised by the earle of Arthois cheefelie
to repaire into Heinault. Also I find, that the Spensers delivered
five barrels of silver, the summe amounting unto five thousand
markes, unto one Arnold of Spaine a broker, appointing him to
conveie it over into France, to bestowe it upon such freends as
they had there of the French kings counsell, by whose means the
king of France did banish his sister out of his relme. But this
monie was met with upon the sea by certeine Zelanders, and
taken, togither with the said Arnold, and presented to the earle
of Heinault, . . .of which good hap the earle and queene
Isabell greatlie rejoised."

1559. Thats it, these Barons and the subtill Queene Long leveld
at. Apparently this is the principal passage upon which Marlowe
relies for reconciling the seeming contradiction in the character
of Isabella. It should be noted, on the one hand, that there has
been nothing hitherto to show either that the queen was hypo-
critical or that the barons entertained any design of replacing
Edward by his son ; on the other, that the queen in the latter-
part of the play is represented as an accomplished hypocrite.
Both aspects of her character are to be found in Holinshed,
where of course they find no reconciliation at all ; the unsatis-
factory nature of Marlowe's portrait of Isabella then arises, not,
as suggested by Professor McLaughlin (see Introduction, p. cviii.,
note 2), from any theory as to the proper management of the
sympathy of the audience, but from too close an adherence
to the source. In this respect the play has not yet emerged
from the chronicle history stage, and Marlowe here failed to
discharge one of the chief duties of the historical dramatist.
The discrepancy observable in Holinshed's account of the
character of Isabella he apparently realized and attempted
to overcome by temporary devices. Our criticism is that he
seems hardly to have perceived that these devices are merely
temporary and do not go to the root of the matter. Levune's
remark is very skilfully designed to insinuate into the mind of
the spectator the idea that Isabella has been hypocritical in her

NOTES 167

attitude in the earlier part of the play, and to reinforce the
interpretation of her conduct that Edward gives us in 11. 449,
1022. But it is only for the spectator, who naturally has little
time to look back and weigh evidence, that this result is accom-
plished. The reader will turn again to the soliloquies of the
queen and note the fact that in them she would have no reason
for playing the hypocrite. Marlowe's device for reconciling the
two aspects of the queen's character consists then in an inten-
tional misleading of the spectator. It will be remembered that
few Elizabethan plays were written with a view to undergoing
the test of being read (see Introduction, p. Ixxv.), a fact of the
highest importance for a proper understanding of them.

The following extract from Tout, Political History of England,
1216-1377, 1905, p. 292, will give the reader what he finds
lacking in both Holinshed and Marlowe : " The older nobles were

eady alienated, when the Despensers provoked a quarrel with
the queen. Isabella was a woman of strong character and
violent passions, with the lack of morals and scruples which
might have been expected from a girlhood passed amidst the
domestic scandals of her father's household. She resented her
want of influence over her husband, and hated the Despensers
because of their superior power with him. The favourites met
her hostility by an open declaration of warfare. In 1324 the
king deprived her of her separate estate, drove her favourite
servants from court, and put her on an allowance of a pound a
day. The wife of the younger Hugh, her husband's niece, was
deputed to watch her, and she could not even write a letter
without the Lady Despenser's knowledge. Isabella bitterly
chafed under her humiliation. She was, she declared, treated
like a maidservant and made the hireling of the Despensers.
Finding, however, that nothing was to be gained by complaints,
she prudently dissembled her wrath and waited patiently for
revenge."

1560. Leveld. The quarto reading was corrected by Dyce
from a conjecture in Dodsley, 1825.

1563. Clap so close. ' To clap ' was to ' set to work briskly/
as in Measure for Measure, IV, iii. 43 : "I would desire you to
clap into your prayers."

1569. Faire blowes the winde. Scene 14. London, near the
Thames (Dyce).

168

EDWARD II

1572. A brother, no, a butcher of thy friends. Compare Tam-
burlaine, in : " What, shall I call thee brother ? no, a foe."

1573. Banish me. Kent was not banished to France, but was
sent there in the course of the negotiations concerning Edward's
default of homage for his French lands, according to Holinshed,
335. Then suddenly, p. 337, we find him on the queen's side.
See note on 1007.

1581. But hath thy potion wrought so happilie ? " About the
same time [1323], the lord Roger Mortimer of Wigmor, giving
his keepers a drinke that brought them into a sound and heavie
sleepe, escaped out of the tower of London where he was prisoner.
This escape of the lord Mortimer greatlie troubled the king, so
that immediatlie upon the first news, he wrote to all the shiriffes
of the realme, that if he chanced to come within their roomes,
they should cause hue and crie to be raised, so as he might be
staied and arrested, but he made such shift, that he got over
into France, where he was received by a lord of Picardie, named
monsier John de Fieules, who had faire lands in England, and
therefore the king wrote to him, reproving him of unthank-
fulnesse, considering he had beene ever readie to pleasure him,
and to advance his profits and commodities, and yet notwith-
standing he did succour the said lord Mortimer, and other rebels
that were fled out of his realme" (Holinshed, 334-5). The
escape of Mortimer from the Tower is narrated at length by
Drayton in Book III of The Barons' War.

1586. A, boye, our friends. Scene 15. Paris (Dyce)u For
this scene, see the extract from Holinshed under 1549.

1592. A loves, i.e. ' he loves/ See note on 1. 576.

1597. Doost. Dyce conjectures ' must/ Collier ' dar'st/

1605. And shake off all. Brought on in a copy of Robinson's
edition in the British Museum suggests ' Share with us/

1608. Have. Broughton conjectures ' heave/

1610. Proudest, i.e. exceedingly proud. Compare Hero and
Leander, I, 37 : " Some say, for her the fairest Cupid pyn'd."
Other examples are given by Vogt, Das Adjektiv bei Marlowe,
1908, ii. Franz, Shakespeare-Grammatik, p. 55, regards this use
of the superlative as the result of the influence of Latin style.

1615. Tanaise, i.e. Tanais, the Latin name for the Don.

NOTES 169

1629. N°t I- Broughton suggests ' not so/

1636. A many friends. * Many ' is often found in Elizabethan
English as a noun denoting an indefinite number, as in " A many
of our bodies/' Henry V, IV, iii. 95. As a result of confusion
with the adjective use of the word, which of course is not followed
by a partitive genitive construction with ' of/ arises the use
found in the text (Franz, Shakespeare-Grammatik, p. 95) . Perhaps
the similar expression ' a few/ which still may be used in both
ways, may have been of influence. It is worth noticing that
though we do not to-day say ' a many friends/ we do say ' a
great many friends/ (Schau, Sprache, etc., Marlowes, 1901,
p. 36, cites ' a many tears ' from Tennyson's Miller's Daughter.)

1638. Faction. Broughton wishes to read ' our faction/
1644. Deserv'd. Broughton suggests ' earn'd/

1651. To bid the English king a base. ' To bid a base ' is an
expression taken from the game of prisoner's base, a game in
which one player attempts to touch others as they run between
designated bases. Hence the phrase means ' to challenge/ and
is in that sense frequent in Elizabethan literature. Compare
Edward I, scene xiii. 77 : " So shall I bid John Baliol base
from thee."

1652. How. Dyce originated the reading ' Now ' followed by
several editors.

1657-8. These comforts . . . at your commaund. Compare

Edward I, scene vi. 59-60 :

" This comfort, madam, that your grace doth give
Binds me in double duty whilst I live."

1660. Motion, i.e. plan or proposal. The word still retains
that sense in parliamentary procedure. So in the Spanish
Tragedy, II, iii. 22-3 :

" He make the motion to my soveraigne liege,
And worke it if my counsaile may prevaile."

1668. Thus, after many threats. Scene 16. An apartment in
the royal palace (Dyce) .

1670. With his friends. Broughton conjectured ' hence-
forth/

1678. St. dir. Spencer reads their names. The list is, of course,
explanatory of the previous phrase, " great execution done

170

EDWARD II

through the realme." The names read by Spencer were un-
doubtedly taken from the list given by Holinshed, 331, of those
executed after the defeat of the barons. " On the same day, the
lord William Tuchet, the lord William fitz William, the lord
Warren de Lisle, the lord Henrie Bradborne, and the lord
William Chenie barons, with John Page an esquire, were drawne
and hanged at Pomfret aforesaid, and then shortlie after, Roger
lord Clifford, John lord Mowbraie, and sir Gosein d'Eovill barons,
were drawne and hanged at Yorke. At Bristow in like manner
were executed sir Henrie de Willington, and sir Henrie Montfort
baronets ; and at Glocester, the lord John Gifford, and sir
William Elmebridge knight ; and at London, the lord Henrie
Teies baron ; at Winchelsie, sir Thomas Culpepper knight ;
at Windsor, the lord Francis de Aldham baron ; and at Cantur-
burie, the lord Bartholomew de Badelismere, and the lord
Bartholomew de Ashbornham, barons. Also at Cardiffe in Wales,
sir William Fleming knight was executed : diverse were executed
in their countries, as sir Thomas Mandit and others.''

For the interest taken by the audience in such lists, compare
Introd., p. li.-liv.

1683. Gets. Brought on, ' will get.'

1685. Reward for them can bring in Mortimer. See note under
1581, and Holinshed, p. 338 : " Whosoever could bring the
head or dead corps of the lord Mortimer of Wigmore, should
have for his labour a thousand marks." This proclamation,
however, was made after the queen and Mortimer had landed in
England.

1692. Letters, my lord. Information as to the actions and
plans of Isabella and her party was in reality brought over by
Walter Stapleton, Bishop of Exeter, " which hitherto had re-
mained with the queene in France, stale now from hir, and got
over into England, opening to the king all the counsell and
whole mind of the queene " (Holinshed, 337).

1706. Lead the round, i.e. lead the dance. Compare the term,
' a round dance.' But the Elizabethan round dance was made
up of several persons stationed to form a ring ; round dances of
the present day, such as the waltz, are of later origin, and
Elizabethan England had nothing corresponding to them.

1707. A Gods name, i.e. ' in God's name,' see note to 1. 576.

NOTES 171

In Much Ado, I, i. 144, the Folio reads " keepe your way, a
Gods name." So in Taming of the Shrew, I, ii. 195. In Richard
II, II, i. 251, occurs ' o' Gods name/ and again, III, iii. 146.

1709 f. Gallop a pace, bright Phoebus. See note on 1. 2017.
Editors cite Romeo and Juliet, III, ii. i ff. : " Gallop apace, you
fiery-footed steeds," etc.

1710. And duskie night, in rustie iron carre. Compare Faerie
Queene, I, v. 28 : " Then to her yron wagon she [Night] betakes ";
Tamburlaine, 2075 : " Let ugly darknesse with her rusty coach,"
etc.

1716. To Bristow. See under 1751.

1719. Now, lords. Scene 17. Near Harwich (Dyce).

" But queene Isabell and hir sonne, with such others as were
with hir in Heinault, staied not their journie for doubt of all
their adversaries provision, but immediatlie after that they had
once made their purveiances, and were readie to depart, they
tooke the sea, namelie the queene, hir sonne, Edmund of Wod-
stoke earle of Kent, sir John de Heinault aforesaid, and the lord
Roger Mortimer of Wigmore, a man of good experience in the
warres, and diverse others, having with them a small companie
of Englishmen, with a crue of Heinewiers and Almains, to the
number of 2757 armed men, the which sailing foorth towards
England, landed at length in Suffolke, at an haven called Orwell
besides Harwich, the 25 daie of September [1326]." (Holinshed,

337-)

1721. Belgia, i.e. the Netherlands.

^ 1725-6. And their sides With their owne weapons gorde. See
Marlowe's own translation of the first book of Lucan's Pharsalia,
3 : " Whose conquering swords their own breasts launcht."
3 Henry VI, II, v. 55 ff., dramatizes the idea elaborately.

1730. And made the channels overflow with blood. Schoeneich
(see note on 1416) compares Faerie Queene, III, ix. 35 : " And
Xanthus sandy bankes with blood all overflowne."

1731. Of thine own people. A number of editors punctuate so
that this phrase qualifies ' blood ' in the preceding line.

1734. Ye must not grow so passionate in speeches. It is
significant of Marlowe's growth in dramatic sense that he would
never in Tamburlaine have permitted a lyrical outburst such as
that of the queen to be cut short for such reasons.

172 EDWARD II

1735. That. The reading of Cunningham and others was
suggested by Dyce. Bullen rectifies the metre by printing
' Lords ' as an independent line.

1744. Remoove these flatterers from the king. " Adam de
Torleton the bishop of Hereford, which latelie before had beene
sore fined by the king, for that he was accused to stirre the
people to rebellion, and to aid the barons (as yee have heard)
made a pithie oration to the armie, declaring that the queene
and hir sonne were returned onelie into England, to the intent
to persecute the Spensers, & reforme the state of the realme "
(Holinshed, 339). This was the customary pretence of English
rebels, in history as well as in drama (see Richard II, II, iii.
166-7 ; Henry VI, Pt. II, V, i. 36), and represents the early
emergence of the fundamental constitutional principle that the
king's ministers, not the king, are responsible for misgovernment.

1749. Fly, fly, my Lord. Scene 18. Near Bristol (Dyce).

1750. Her friends doe multiply. " Immediatlie after that
the queene and hir sonne were come to land, it was woonder to
see how fast the people resorted unto them ; and first of all, the
earle Marshall," etc. (Holinshed, 337).

" At the time of the queenes landing he [the king] was at
London, and being sore amazed with the newes, he required aid
of the Londoners. They answered, that they would doo all the
honour they might unto the king, the queene, and to their sonne
the lawfull heire of the land : but as for strangers & traitors to
the realme, they would keepe them out of their gates, and resist
them with all their forces : but to go foorth of the citie further
than that they might returne before sunne-setting, they refused,
pretending certaine liberties in that behalfe to them granted in
times past, as they alledged " (ibid., p. 338).

1751. Shape we our course to Ireland. " The king . . . de-
parted towards the marches of Wales, there to raise an armie
against the queene " (Holinshed, 338).

" In the meane time, the king being come to Bristow, left
that citie in the keeping of the earle of Winchester. And with
the carles of Glocester and Arundell, and the lord chancellor sir
Robert Baldocke, he sailed over into Wales, there to raise a power
of Welshmen in defense of himselfe against the queene and hir
adherents, which he had good hope to find amongest the Welsh-
men, bicause he had ever used them gentlie, and shewed no

NOTES 173

rigor towards them for their riotous misgover nance. Againe, he
drew the rather into that part, that if there were no remedie, he
might easilie escape over into Ireland, and get into some moun-
teine-countrie, marish-ground, or other streict, where his enemies
should not come at him " (ibid., 338-9).

It will be noticed how Marlowe simplifies the action ; and
indeed fuller extracts from Holinshed might profitably have been
given to illustrate the large amount of material bearing directly
upon the struggle that he yet omits.

1754. R' enforce. Almost all editors have altered to ' reinforce/
Dyce says that the word is, though spelled ' reinforce/ to be
pronounced as in text ; but others pronounce as a trisyllable, as
is shown by the way in which they alter the line to mend the metre.

1762. Vilde, i.e. vile. Compare Tamburlaine, 4245, " Vild
Tyrant." This form of the word is common.

Unkinde, that is, unnatural, the regular meaning of the word
in Elizabethan English. See Lyly, Euphues, I, 206 : " If thou
[a woman] haste belyed women, he will judge thee unkynde."

1774. Suspect, i.e. suspicion, as in 1. 1840 and Spanish Tragedy,
III, iii. 15 : " Besides, this place is free from all suspect."

1783. Lord warden of the realme. " But now touching the
king, whilest he was thus abroad, and no man wist where he
was become, proclamations were made in the queenes armie
dailie, in the which he was summoned to returne, and to take
the rule of the relme into his hands, if he would be conformable
to the minds of his true liege men ; but when he appeared not,
the lords of the land assembled in councell at Hereford, whither
the queene was come from Bristow, and there was the lord
Edward prince of Wales and duke of Aquitaine made warden of
England, by common decree, unto whome all men, as to the
lord warden of the realme, made fealtie, in receiving an oth of
allegiance to be faithfull and loiall to him " (Holinshed, 339).

1797. The Maior of Bristow knows our mind. The scene is
evidently near Bristol. For the following action, compare
Holinshed, 339 : " But now to speake of the queene . . . she
. . . turned hir journie toward Wales to follow the king, and
comming to Oxenford, staied there a while. . . . These words
spoken, the queene accompanied with a great power, departed
from Oxenford, and went straight unto Glocester, and sent
before hir unto Bristow the earle of Kent, the kings brother, sir

174 EDWARD ' II

John of Hennegew, with other, to take the earle of Winchester.
They did their endevour with such diligence, that the townesmen,
compounding to be saved harmlesse in bodie and goods, delivered
the towne and castell unto the queene, & to hir sonne the prince.
. . . From Glocester she . . . went to Bristow, and the morrow
after hir thither comming, being the even of the apostles Simon
and Jude, through the instant calling upon of the people, the earle
of Winchester was drawne foorth in his cote armor unto the
common gallows, and there hanged. His head was after cut off,
and sent to Winchester, whereof he was earle."

1802. This Edward is the ruine of the realme. Bullen is beyond
question right in refusing to follow Dyce in assigning this line to
Mortimer. No inconsistency is involved in accepting the quarto
assignment to Kent, for in 1. 1769 Kent tells us that he must,
for his own safety, dissemble. Fleay's reading makes Kent give
the prince a lesson in statecraft.

1808. Catiline. Lucius Sergius Catilina, d. 62 B.C., a de-
bauched but very able Roman noble, conspired against the
republic with other desperate men, but his plot was defeated
by the exertions of Cicero, and Catiline himself was slain at the
battle of Faesulae. The present passage is illustrative of the
free and indiscriminate use of classical allusions of which other
examples have been referred to. Catiline did not revel in the
wealth and treasury of Rome, though he would have liked to
do so, nor were the Spensers conspiring to overthrow the govern-
ment, nor would such a person as Rice ap Howell in the early
fourteenth century have been likely to know much about
Catiline. It should be said, however, that classical allusions of
all kinds and degrees of appositeness were a commonplace
feature of poetic style during the last part of the sixteenth
century, and that it is a marked sign of maturing powers in
Marlowe that he makes use of them far less frequently in Edward
II than in his earlier plays.

1809. Reveld in Englands wealth and treasurie. This line
repeats part of 1. 1745. ' Treasurie ' is in both cases used in the
sense of ' treasure,' as in the quotation given under 953.

1815. Shipt but late for Ireland, with the king. " The king in
this meane time kept not in one place, but shifting hither and
thither, remained in great care. . . . The king with the earle of

NOTES 175

Glocester, and the lord chancellor, taking the sea, meant to have
gone either into the He of Lundaie, or else into Ireland, but
being tossed with contrarie winds for the space of a weeke to-
gither, at length he landed in Glamorganshire, and got him to
the abbeie and castell of Neith, there secretlie remaining upon
trust of the Welshmens promises " (Holinshed, 339).

1820. What resteth ? ' Rest ' often was used in the sense of
' to be done/ Schmidt, Shakespeare Lexicon, s.v. So Hamlet,
III, iii. 64 : " What then ? what rests ? " Tamburlaine, 2805 ;
" It resteth now then that your Majesty Take all advantages/'
etc.

1832. Of countenance, i.e. influential, of importance, of authority.
So in Lyly, Euphues, II, 90 : " Thou wilt say that she is a Lady
of great credit, & I heere of no countenance," i.e. she is a lady of
importance, but I, her suitor, am of no importance here in
England. Compare Julius Cczsar, I, iii. 158-60 :

" And that which would appear offence in us.
His countenance, like richest alchemy,
Will change to virtue and to worthiness."

1833. Runnagates, i.e. runaways. The word occurs several
times in Marlowe. See Tamburlaine, 1155, 1323 ; Dido, 1673.

1837. Have you no doubt, my Lorde. Scene 19. Within the
Abbey of Neath (Dyce). For this scene, in addition to the
extract under 1815, compare the following passages from Holin-
shed, 339-40 : " The queene remained about a moneths space
at Hereford, and in the meane while sent the lord Henrie erle of
Leicester, and the lord William la Zouch, and one Rice ap
Howell, that was latelie delivered out of the tower where he was
prisoner, into Wales, to see if they might find means to appre-
hend the king by helpe of their acquaintance in those parts,
all three of them having lands thereabouts, where it was knowne
the king for the more part kept. They used such diligence in
that charge, that finallie with large gifts bestowed on the Welsh-
men, they came to understand where the king was, and so ...
they tooke him in the monasterie of Neith, . . . togither with
Hugh Spenser the sonne called earle of Glocester, the lord
chancellour Robert de Baldocke. . . . The king was delivered
to the earle of Leicester, who conveied him by Monmouth and
Leadburie, to Killingworth castle, where he remained the whole
winter. The earle of Glocester, the lord chancellor, and Simon
u

176 EDWARD II

de Reading, were brought to Hereford, and there presented to
the queene, where on the foure & twentith of November, the said
earle was drawne and hanged on a paire of gallowes of fiftie foot
in height. . . . The common fame went, that after this Hugh
Spenser the sonne was taken, he would receive no sustenance,
wherefore he was the sooner put to death, or else had he beene
eonveied to London, there to have suffered. . . . The chan-
cellour Robert de Baldocke being committed to the custodie of
Adam de Torleton bishop of Hereford, remained at Hereford in
safe keeping till Candlemasse next, and then the bishop being at
London, appointed him to be brought up, where not without the
bishops consent (as was thought) he was taken out of his house
by violence, and laid in Newgate, where shortlie after through
inward sorow and extreame greefe of mind he ended his life."
Baldock, being in orders, was theoretically amenable only to
ecclesiastical discipline.

1844. Father, thy face should harbor no deceit. Compare Kyd's
Soliman and Perseda, III, i. 72 : " This face of thine shuld
harbour no deceit."

Miss Lee remarks, New Shak. Soc. Trans., 1875-6, 245, that
there is " a close contiguity of thought between the despondency"
of Edward in this scene and that of Mycetes in Tamburlaine,
664 ff., and of Henry in scene viii. of The True Tragedy of Richard
Duke of York.

1850-1. But what is he . . . made miserable. Tzschaschel
(p. 24) suggests that Marlowe is thinking of a Latin quotation in
Holinshed, p. 341 :

" miser atque infoelix est etiam rex,
Nee quenquam (mihi crede) facit diadema beatum."

But the language of Marlowe's lines is hardly close enough to the
original to prove that he was translating, especially as the senti-
ment is a very common one.

' Emperie ' is a favourite word with Marlowe. Compare Tam-
burlaine, 134, 235, etc.

1855. Suckedst. The expression " Hast thou . . . suckt
Philosophy " occurs in Jeronimo (ascribed to Kyd), II, iii. 7-8.

1856. This life contemplative. Edward has in mind the
mediaeval and Renaissance distinction between the contemplative
life of the monk (or the philosopher) and the active life of, for
example, the statesman or the soldier. The distinction is

NOTES 177

fundamental to an understanding of the ethical philosophy of
the Renaissance, and meets us at every turn in the literature of
the period.

McLaughlin compares Richard II, III, iii. 147-8 :
" I'll give my jewels for a set of beads,
My gorgeous palace for an hermitage,
My gay apparel for an alms-man's gown," etc.

1870. Awkward windes. Miss Lee, New Shak. Soc. Trans.,
1875-6, 244, notes this phrase as occurring in The First Part of
the Contention, scene x. 38.

And sore. Brought on suggests ' and with sore.'

1876. Mickle, i.e. much, a northern form common in Eliza-
bethan writers ; Marlowe has it again, Dido, 851.

1880-1. Baldock, this drowsines, etc. Crawford (see note on
151) compares Arden of Feversham, III, ii. 16-17 :
" I am so heavy that I can scarce go ;
This drowsiness in me bodes little good."

1881. st. dir. Welch hookes. It is not known exactly what the
form of the Welsh hook was, but it seems to have been a kind of
partisan. Compare Fairholt, Costume in England, s.v. Welsh-
hooks. *

1889-90. Quern dies, etc. From Seneca's Thyestes, 613-14.

" For whom the morning saw so great and high,
Thus low and little 'fore the even doth lie,"

is Jonson's translation of these lines at the end of his Sejanus.
This passage of Seneca is very common in Elizabethan and
Renaissance literature. Compare Edward III, V, i. 27-30, and
see Introd., p.' xcv.-xcvi.

1894. Stand not on titles. Compare Tamburlaine, 2447-8:

" But yet if Sigismond
Speake as a friend, and stand not upon tearmes."

Baldock and Spenser should have been arrested in proper form
by giving them their titles, as in Henry V, II, ii. 145 ff. : "I
arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Richard Earl of
Cambridge."

1898-9. 0, my starres ! Why do you lowre unkindly on a king ?
Compare Kyd's Soliman and Perseda, V, iv. 82-3 :

" Ah heavens, that hitherto have smilde on me,
Why doe you unkindly lowre on Solyman ? "

178

EDWARD II

1906. Earnes, i.e. grieves.

1917. Killingworth, that is, Kenilworth, a common form of
the word, see the extract from Holinshed under 1. 1837. There
is a singular note on Longfellow's The Birds of Killingworth in
the Cambridge edition of Longfellow, p. 669. " Killingworth in
Connecticut was named from the English town Kenilworth in
Warwickshire, and had the same orthography in the early
records, but was afterwards corrupted into its present form."
There was no ' corruption ' involved, for the corrupt form was
much older than the town.

1924. Let Plutos bels ring out my fatall knell. Compare Peele s
Battle of Alcazar, I, i. 115 : " The bells of Pluto ring revenge/'
etc.

1926. Hath Edward. The insertion of ' hapless ' by some
editors is based on a suggestion of Dyce, who experienced some
difficulty in interpreting the line. The repetition of ' these '
seemed to him suspicious ; in the one case ' these ' would refer
to Spenser and Baldock, but in the other case to whom ? So
Dyce omitted ' and these,' suggesting the insertion of ' hapless '
to fill out the line. Fleay thinks that one ' these ' refers to the
' hags ' of the preceding line ! But the point is really very
simple : Edward hath no friends but these (the monks) and these
(Spenser and Baldock), and these (Spenser and Baldock) must
die. The spectator would never be puzzled, but the reader is
too likely to forget that the monks are still present. It should
constantly be remembered that Marlowe did not write his plays to
be read. The variants on the next line show that Dyce was not
the first editor to be disturbed by the passage.

1929. Shorter by the heads. A frequent euphemism, if the
word is in this instance applicable, for ' beheading.' See Peele's
Edward I, scene ii. 349 : " I'll short that gain-legged Long-
shanks by the top." Tancock cites Richard II, III, iii. 10 ff. :

" The time hath been,

Would you have been so brief with him, he would
Have been so brief with you, to shorten you,
For taking so the head, your whole head's length."

1930. Well, that shalbe, shalbe. Compare Faustus, 75-6 :

" What doctrine call you this, Che sera, sera,
What wil be, shall be ? "

NOTES 179

1932. Hence, fained weeds, unfained are my woes. So in
Edward I, scene xxv. 122 :

" Unhappy king, dishonour'd in thy stock !
Hence, feigned weeds ! unfeigned is my grief."

This has been also noted by Verity.

The so-called ' etymological figure ' illustrated by ' fained
. . . unfained,' was very frequently employed in the drama of
Marlowe's day. See many examples collected in Nelle, Das
Wortspiel, etc., 30-1.

1934. Life, farewell with my friends. So in 2 Henry VI, III,
ii- 356 : " Yet now farewell ; and farewell life with thee."

1935. 0, is he gone ! is noble Edward gone ? A close parallel in
Spanish Tragedy, II, v. 42 : " Then is he gone ? and is my
sonne gone too ? " In this line ' he,' as is shown by the context,
refers to Horatio, as does ' my sonne ' ; the ' too ' is redundant
and misleading.

1937. Rent, a very common form of ' rend.' See 11. 2093,
2250 ; Tamburlaine, 2729.

1940. Fleeted. See note on 1. 343.

1950. Your Lordships. Fleay makes his changes in 11. 1948,
1950 for the purpose of reducing this prose passage to metre.

1954. Be patient, good my lord. Scene 20. An apartment in
Killingworth (Kenilworth) Castle (Dyce).

In regard to the preceding stage direction, modern editors
(except Brooke, who prints merely the quarto reading) follow
Reed (Dodsley, 1780) in identifying this bishop as the Bishop of
Winchester. But it is doubtful whether this identification is
correct. If Marlowe had any particular bishop in mind here,
which is worth a question, it was probably the Bishop of Here-
ford, Adam Torleton. In the following extract from Holinshed,
it will be seen that Hereford speaks for the commission in public,
though Winchester and Lincoln had conferred with the king in
private ; moreover, see note on 1. 2138. The commission sent
to demand that Edward abdicate was composed, according to
Holinshed, of a large number of persons — bishops, earls, barons,
knights, and minor persons, twenty-four altogether. Doubtless
some at least of these were on the stage as mutes, for it will be
noticed that Trussel, though given a speaking part, is not
mentioned in the stage direction. After discussing at length the

180 EDWARD II

personnel of the commission, Holinshed goes on, pp. 340-1 :
" The bishops of Winchester and Lincolne went before, and
comming to Killingworth, associated with them the earle of
Leicester, of some called the earle of Lancaster, that had the
king in keeping. And having secret conference with the king,
they sought to frame his mind, so as he might be contented to
resigne the crowne to his sonne, bearing him in hand, that if he
refused so to doo, the people in respect of the evill will which
they had conceived against him, would not faile but proceed to
the election of some other that should happilie not touch him in
linage. And sith this was the onlie meane to bring the land in
quiet, they willed him to consider how much he was bound in
conscience to take that waie that should be so beneficiall to the
whole realme.

" The king being sore troubled to heare such displeasant
newes, was brought into a marvelous agonie : but in the end,
for the quiet of the realme and doubt of further danger to
himselfe, he determined to follow their advise, and so when the
other commissioners were come, and that the bishop of Hereford
had declared the cause wherefore they were sent, the king in
presence of them all, notwithstanding his outward countenance
discovered how much it inwardlie grieved him ; yet after he was
come to himselfe, he answered that he knew that he was fallen
into this miserie through his owne offenses, and therefore he
was contented patientlie to suffer it, but yet it could not (he
said) but greeve him, that he had in such wise runne into the
hatred of all his people : notwithstanding he gave the lords
most heartie thanks, that they had so forgotten their received
injuries, and ceassed not to beare so much good will towards his
sonne Edward, as to wish that he might reigne over them.
Therefore to satisfie them, sith otherwise it might not be, he
utterlie renounced his right to the kingdome, and to the whole
administration thereof. And lastlie he besought the lords now
in his miserie to forgive him such offenses as he had committed
against them."

1955 f. Imagine Killingworth castell were your court. Mc-
Laughlin compares Richard II, I, iii. 275 ff. :

" All places that the eye of heaven visits
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.
Teach thy necessity to reason thus ;
There is no virtue like necessity."

The sentiment underlying both passages is one of the common-

NOTES 181

places of both classical and Renaissance ethics. Compare, for
example, Petrarch's Letters, II, 3, Quid sit exilium.

1961. The greefes of private men are soone allay de. Compare
Tennyson's Guinivere :

" For me, I thank the saints, I am not great.
For if there ever come a grief to me
I cry my cry in silence, and have done.
None knows it, and my tears have brought me good ;
But even were the griefs of little ones
As great as those of great ones," etc.

1962-5. The forrest Deare . . . wrathfull pawe. The herb
referred to was known as dictamnum or dittany, supposed to
possess healing virtues of which wild animals, and especially
deer, had instinctive knowledge. Few figures of speech are
commoner in earlier literature than that based upon this super-
stition. Tancock thinks that Marlowe took the idea of the
whole passage from jEneid, xii. 4-8, 412-15, but the resem-
blances are not very striking. In the first passage the wounded
lion does not tear his own flesh ; in the second, it is not the deer,
but the wild goat that makes use of the medicinal herb. In
neither case is there any special resemblance in language to
Marlowe's lines. These superstitions were so widely spread
that very marked similarities between any two passages should
be proved before one is to be thought of as the source of the
other.

1994. For hees a lambe, encompassed by Woolves. Verity,
Harness Prize Essay, 108, compares 3 Henry VI, I, i. 242 :

" Such safety finds
The trembling lamb environed with wolves.1'

The figure is of course common enough, and needs no explanation*
but it is worth notice perhaps that it is one of the stock com-
parisons furnished to the Renaissance by classical literature, in
which it is frequent ; as we know Marlowe to have been familiar
with Ovid, perhaps such a passage as this was vaguely in his
mind (Ovid, Ars Amatoria, II, 363-4) :

" Accipitri timidas credis, furiose, columbas,
Plenum rnontano credis ovile lupo."

1997. Heavens turne it to a blaze of quenchlesse fier. This is
said by commentators to be an allusion to the crown given by
Medea to Creusa, in the Medea of Euripides. The expression
' quenchless fire ' occurs in Tamburlaine, 3529 ; Dido, 481 ; on

182

EDWARD II

the second passage Bullen remarks that the occurrence of the
word ' quenchless ' would alone show the passage to be Marlowe's.
But the force of his argument is somewhat weakened by the fact
that ' quenchless fire ' occurs in Peele's Tale of Troy, 428, and
in a song by Thomas Ford, printed in Bullen's Lyrics from
Elizabethan Songbooks, 1891, p. 164. It should be noted that the
Tale of Troy was printed as early as 1589. ' Quenchless ' is also
found, as noted by Verity, Harness Prize Essay, 108, in
3 Henry VI, I, iv. 28 ('quenchless fury'), and Lucrece, 1554
(' quenchless fire ').
For ' heavens/ see note on 1. 1029.

1998. Tisiphon, i.e. Tisiphone, one of the Furies, who were
conceived of as having their heads wreathed with snakes instead
of hair.

1998-9. Or like the snakie wreathe, etc. Crawford (see note on
151) compares Arden of Feversham, V, i. 150-1 :

" That like the snakes of black Tisiphone
Stong me with their embracings ! "

2000. England's Vines. Compare 1. 1451 ; Tancock cites
Richard II, I, ii. n ff. :

" Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one,
Were as seven vials of his sacred blood,
Or seven fair branches springing from one root," etc.

2010. Here, take my crowne ; the life of Edward too. With this
passage should be compared the resignation of the crown by
Richard II in IV, i., of Shakespeare's play. Richard displays a
versatility of fancy, an activity of mind, and a subtlety of
thought to which Edward can lay no claim. Richard is intel-
lectually master of the situation, and his disdainful compliance
with the demands urged upon him places his opponents at a
moral disadvantage. Even Henry, distinctly the greater man
as regards the play as a whole, appears dull and brutal in contrast.
Perhaps Marlowe was unequal to the achievement of such a
feat ; in any case, we may be sure that it would not greatly have
interested him. The casuistry of a situation seems never to
have attracted him, and he seems never to have created intel-
lectual problems because of any sheer delight he took in solving
them with easy mastery. As compared with Shakespeare's
plays, Marlowe's at once appear deficient in ideas ; and no
doubt they are. He was intellectually Shakespeare's inferior.
Yet not perhaps to a degree so great as at first we think. This

NOTES 183

deficiency in ideas is partly due to the fact that he approached
his dramatic problem differently. It was the intense emotional
conflict through which Edward passes that he wished to depict.
Richard has schooled himself to endure before he comes into
parliament, and except for an occasional outburst and for his
complete breakdown at the end goes through his task of abdica-
tion in a manner almost perfunctory, discoursing the while with
keen intellectual relish upon certain subtle aspects of the situation.
Edward's undisciplined soul is the battle-ground of contending
passions ; it is " swept with confused alarms of struggle and
flight " ; and the spectacle of this conflict is just what Marlowe
wished to present.

It is this fact which takes away the point from Faligan's
criticism (De Marlovianis Fabulis, 1887, 180 f.) that the subject
of the play was ill-chosen, since Edward is too weak and effeminate
to enlist our sympathy. Rather might one say that Marlowe
was attracted to Edward's reign by the opportunity it afforded
him of dealing with scenes of intense anguish, this one,
namely, and that of the murder. In such scenes Marlowe
excelled. The finest scene in Faustus is of course the last,
wherein the passionate agony of a doomed soul finds almost,
naturally it could not be quite, adequate expression. Inferior
to these, but yet dramatically the best parts of the play, are
those passages in Tambmlaine in which the hero in the first
suffers at the bedside of the dying Zenocrate, in the other
realizes that he is himself subject to death.

2014. So shall my eyes receive their last content. In the same
way Tamburlaine looks upon the body of Zenocrate just before
his own death, and says :

" Now eies, injoy your latest benefite."

2017-23. Continue ever . . . wished crowne. Compare
Faustus, 1422-8 :

" Stand stil you ever mooving spheres of heaven,
That time may cease, and midnight never come :
Fair Natures eie, rise, rise againe, and make
Perpetuall day, or let this houre be but
A yeere, a moneth, a weeke, a naturall day,
That Faustus may repent, and save his soule,
O lente, lente curite noctis equi :

The starres moove stil, time runs, the clocke wil strike,
The divel wil come, and Faustus must be damnd."

Both passages might be contrasted with the earlier lines in

184 EDWARD II

Edward II, 1709 ff. : " Gallop apace, bright Phoebus," etc.,
and all three may be regarded as outgrowths of the influence of
Ovid, Amoves, I, xiii. 40 : lente currite, Noctis equi, which
Marlowe uses in the Faustus passage and had translated in his
Ovid's Elegies.

Thou celestiall sunne. Vogt, Das Adjektiv bei Marlowe, 59,
suggests that this phrase is in imitation of the ' caelestia sidera '
of Ovid, Metamorphoses, viii. 372. Vogt does show that Marlowe
adopted from Ovid and Virgil, as well as other classical authors,
a number- of picturesque descriptive phrases, but whether this
was one of them may well be doubted perhaps.

2020. At a stay. The phrase occurs in Dryden's The Medal, 1. 93.

2039. lie not resigne ; 'but, whilst I live. Sander, Das Moment
der letzten Spannung in der englischen Tragodie bis zu Shakespeare,
1902, 37, says of Edward II that it contains no moment of final
suspense unless it be found in this line. The statement seems
strange in view of Kent's break with Mortimer, suggested in 11.
2140, 2165, and carried out 11. 2208 ff., of his design to free the
king, 2226!, and of his attempt to do so, 22776. It will be
remembered that Marlowe has antedated this plot of Kent, and
it can hardly be that he did not have in mind in so doing the
purpose of creating suspense.

Whilst I live. Brereton (see under 881) suggests ' whilst I live
He live.'

2062. Inthronized. Compare Ward's note on ' eternis'd,' in
his edition of Faustus and Friar Bacon, scene i. 1. 15 of his
numbering. " This verb, formed from the adjective ' eterne,'
which is used by Shakespeare, recurs in I Tamburlaine, i. 2 ;
2 Tamburlaine, v. i and v. 2 ; also in Friar Bacon, ii. 43, and
towards the beginning of Greene's Orlando Furioso. Similar
formations are ' royalize,' i.e. made royal, in i Tamburlaine, ii.
3 ; Friar Bacon, ix. 264, and xvi. 68 ; and Peele's Edward I,
sc. i. 12 ; ' enthronize,' in Edward II, v. i, and Peele's Edward I,
sc. i. 250 ; ' scandalize,' i.e. turn into dishonour, in Lodge and
Greene's A Looking-Glass for London and England ; besides
1 canonize,' in our scene, 118, and ' solemnize,' in Peele's Edward
I, i. 250. A large collection of similar forms, including ' echoize '
and ' chaoize,' is to be found in Cyril Tourneur's poem, The
Transformed Metamorphosis. In the Epistle to the Reader
prefixed to the 1594 edition of his Christs Teares ouer Jerusalem,

NOTES 185

Nash (Works, ed. Grosart iv. 6) mentions among the objections
taken to his style ' the often coyning of Italianate verbes which
end all in Ize, as mummianize, tympanize, tirannize/ and
defends his practice on the ground that ' no speech or wordes of
any power or force to confute or perswade but must bee swelling
and boystrous.' '

2064. Or if I live, let me forget my selfe. Compare Richard II,
III, iii. 138-9 :

" Or that I could forget what I have been,
Or not remember what I must be now."

2065. My lorde. See the same play, IV, i. 253 ff. :
" North. My lord, —

K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haut insulting man,
Nor no man's lord," etc.

Bish. My lorde. The change now generally adopted from
the quarto reading is not so violent as at first appears, since
it is well known that plays printed from stage copies (com-
pare note on 1. 437) often give entrances too early. Hartley
(Berkeley) clearly does not enter until 1. 2081, and the printer's
eye, catching the word in the stage direction, assigned this line
to him. Compare note on 2081.

2076. With too much clemencie. Is the reference to his sparing
of Mortimer ? See the note on 1539.

2081. An other poast, what newes bringes he? The reason for
the transference of the stage-direction from 2064 is of course
to be found in this exclamation of Leicester. Brereton (see under
881) objects to this reading.

2091. I, my most gratious lord, so Us decreed. " But now to
make an end of the life, as well as of the reigne of king Edward
the second, I find that after he was deposed of his kinglie honour
and title, he remained for a time at Killingworth, in custodie of
the earle of Leicester. But within a while the queene was informed
by the bishop of Hereford, (whose hatred towards him had no
end) that the erle of Leicester favoured hir husband too much,
and more than stood with the suertie of hir sonnes state, where-
upon he was appointed to the keeping of two other lords, Thomas
Berkley, and John Matrevers, who receiving him of the earle of
Leicester the third of Aprill, conveied him from Killingworth unto
the castell of Berkley, situate not farre off from the river of

186 EDWARD II

Severne, almost the midwaie betwixt Glocester and Bristow "
(Holinshed, 341).

2096. Immortall Jove. In commenting on this passage and
on line 1975, where occurs the phrase, ' to plaine me to the gods/
Tancock refers to his note on lines 1416 ff. : " This form of oath
is classical and Virgilian rather than Christian and suitable to an
English king. ... So Tamburlaine often appeals to ' Jove.'
Compare the words placed in the mouth of the actor Kempe in
' The Return from Parnassus ' (acted 1602) act iv. sc. 5 : ' Few
of the university pen plaies well, they smell too much of that
writer Ovid, and that writer Metamorphosis, and talke too much
of Proserpina and Juppiter.' ' The quotation from The Return
from Parnassus, however, is hardly apt, since the author of the
play is referring to the general practice of miscellaneous classical
allusion, not so much to the particular matter of confused
theology that we find illustrated in the Marlowe passages. Such
a confused theology was characteristic of much Renaissance
writing, especially perhaps when the piece in question was a
purely imaginative work having no special relations of time or
place. Thus the theology of Boccaccio's Fiammetta is at times
Christian, at times pagan, with the result of being thoroughly
confusing to the reader ; the same thing is true of the Ameto as
well. The use of the plural ' gods ' in line 1975 might suggest
that Marlowe is likewise mingling the two systems of thought.
But it seems better to regard the plural in that line as an over-
sight, for the action of the play is so definitely localized in every
way that it is incredible that Marlowe should have deliberately
intended Edward II to adopt, even momentarily, pagan modes
of religious expression. The use of the term ' Jove ' in the present
line is not a parallel case, and so cannot be used against the view
here suggested. ' Jove ' (or some equivalent epithet) is constantly
found in places where it is perfectly clear that the writer intends
to refer to the Christian God. Thus Dante, Purgatorio, vi. 118 :

" O sommo Giove,
Che fosti in terra per noi crocifisso."

In England many illustrations could be given. Legge, in
Richardus Tertius, ed. Field, p. 86, makes the Archbishop of
Canterbury use the phrase :

" Rector potens Olympi, et altitonans pater."
Other cases occur in the same play. Peele in David and Bethsabe

NOTES 187

twice employs ' Jove ' for ' God ' (scenes 10 and 12). In the
morality of Everyman occurs the curious expression, ' The
highest Jupiter of all ' (Dodsley, I, p. 118). Buckingham, in the
Lament of Buckingham, Mirror for Magistrates, in invoking the
curse upon Bannister, st. 102, says, ' This pray I, Jove.' See also
the instances cited by Dyce in his note on Faustus, scene I, line
74 (Bullen's numbering), and compare Herrick, Hesperides, 321.
It should be remarked, however, that in Tamburlaine, where
Marlowe is dealing with subject-matter toward which he felt
absolutely no responsibilities, the mythology is thoroughly
confused, and it is quite impossible to formulate Tamburlaine 's
religious beliefs.

2109. Faire Isabell. Scene 21. An apartment in the royal
palace (Dyce).

2115. An old Wolfe by the eares. Wagner refers to the Greek
proverb, rbv X.VKOV TWV WT<OV ex<o, but the idea lay even nearer
to hand. A Latin saying, lupum auribus tenere, occurs in Terence,
Phormio, 3, 2, 21, and Suetonius, Tiberius, 25. Thence it passed
into the Renaissance humanistic drama, where it was very
common (Creizenach, Geschichte des neueren Dramas, II, 98),
and it is frequently found in the Elizabethan and Jacobean
periods. See Lust's Dominion, Dodsley, xiv. p. 148 ; Webster,
Vittoria Corombona / Fletcher, Island Princess, V, ii. ; Shirley,
Politician, I, i.

2138. Or this letter was sealed. It would seem from this that
Marlowe meant Winchester to learn of Edward's abdication by
letter ; yet Holinshed (see under 1. 1954) says that Winchester
was one of those sent to induce Edward to abdicate ; the bishop
present in the abdication scene was probably Hereford, that is,
if we may suppose that Marlowe had there any particular bishop
in mind. No doubt other bishops were also sent with Hereford,
but the latter was in all the plotting against Edward one of the
moving spirits, as he is here represented to be, and Holinshed
gives him full credit for his activity. Indeed, it is interesting to
see how Marlowe has thrust Hereford into the background as
compared with Mortimer, whereas Hereford is far more prominent
in the conspiracy against the king as Holinshed relates it. For
instance, according to Holinshed (see under 2156), it was Hereford
who devised and sent the ambiguous message leading directly
to the murder.

188 EDWARD II

2138. Letter. The omission of this word was suggested by
Dyce.

2140. Edmund laid a plot. See the extract from Holinshed
under 1. 2156, and the note on 2374.

2141. No more but so. This is a common Elizabethan idiom,
as in Hamlet, I, iii. 9 :

" Laer. For Hamlet and the trifling of his favour,

Hold it ...

The perfume and suppliance of a minute ;

No more.

Oph. No more but so ? "

Marlowe uses the phrase twice in The few of Malta, once, 1. 1637,
in much the same sense as here ; again, 1. 1794, quite differently :

" Ith. I charge thee send me 300 by this bearer, and this shall be
your warrant ; if you doe not, no more but so."

2145. Let me alone, here is the privie seale. Tancock, Bullen,
Mclaughlin, Verity, follow Dyce in inserting after this line a
stage direction — Exit the Bishop of Winchester. There seems
to be no reason for doing so. LI. 2137, 2144 show that the queen
is not unwilling to speak freely before him, and the latter part of
his speech shows that he is in thorough sympathy with them.
It looks as though Dyce had made the bishop go out in obedience
to Mortimer's ' let me alone/ as though the phrase were equivalent
to ' leave me/ But it does not of course mean that, but rather
what it does in 1. 2130, ' I am quite able to manage the affair, to
conduct it to a successful issue/ as in The Famous Victories of
Henry V, ed. Steevens, p. 320, " Well, I if the villaines come,
let mee alone with them," etc., or As You Like It, I, iii. 135 :
" He'll go along o'er the wide world with me ; Leave me alone
to woo him/'

2149. He lieth. A reviewer of Bullen's edition of Marlowe in
Athenceum, No. 2977, proposes : " And none but we shall know
where Edward lies."

2156. That he resigne the king to thee and Gurney. " But
forsomuch as the lord Berkley used him more courteouslie than
his adversaries wished him to doo, he was discharged of that
office, and sir Thomas Gourney appointed in his stead, who
togither with the lord Matrevers conveied him secretlie (for
f eare least he should be taken from them by force) from one strong

NOTES 189

place to another, as to the castell of Corfe, and such like, still
remooving with him in the night season, till at length they
thought it should not be knowne whither they had conveied
him. And so at length they brought him backe againe in secret
maner unto the castell of Berkley, where whilest he remained
(as some write) the queene would send unto him courteous and
loving letters with apparrell and other such things, but she
would not once come neere to visit him, bearing him in hand
that she durst not, for feare of the peoples displeasure, who
hated him so extreamelie. Howbeit, she with the rest of hir
confederats had (no doubt) laid the plot of their devise for his
despatch though by painted words she pretended a kind of
remorse to him in this his distresse, & would seeme to be fault-
lesse in the sight of the world ; for

Proditor illudit verbis dum verbera cudit.

But as he thus continued in prison, closelie kept, so that none
of his freends might have accesse unto him, as in such cases it
often happeneth, when men be in miserie, some will ever pitie
their state, there were diverse of the nobilitie (of whom the earle
of Kent was cheefe) began to devise means by secret conference
had togither, how they might restore him to libertie, discom-
mending greatlie both queene Isabell, and such other as were
appointed governours to the yoong king, for his fathers streict
imprisonment. The queene and other the governours under-
standing this conspiracie of the earle of Kent, and of his brother,
durst not yet in that new and greene world go about to punish it,
but rather thought good to take awaie from them the occasion
of accomplishing their purpose. And hereupon the queene and
the bishop of Hereford wrote sharpe letters unto his keepers,
blaming them greatlie, for that they dealt so gentlie with him,
and kept him no streictlier, but suffered him to have such
libertie, that he advertised some of his freends abroad how and
in what manner he was used, and withall the bishop of Hereford
under a sophisticall forme of words signified to them by his
letters, that they should dispatch him out of the waie, the tenor
whereof wrapped in obscuritie ran thus :

Edwardum occidere nolite timere bonum est :
To kill Edward will not to feare it is good.

" Which riddle or doubtfull kind of speech, as it might be
taken in two contrarie senses, onelie by placing the point in

190 EDWARD II

orthographic called Coma, they construed in the worse sense,
putting the Comma after Timere, and so presuming of this
commandement as they tooke it from the bishop, they lodged the
miserable prisoner in a chamber over a foule filthie dungeon,
full of dead carrion, trusting so to make an end of him, with the
abhominable stinch thereof : but he bearing it out stronglie,
as a man of a tough nature, continued still in life, so as it seemed
he was verie like to escape that danger, as he had by purging
. . . avoided the force of such poison as had beene ministred to
him sundrie times before, of purpose so to rid him.

" Whereupon when they sawe that such practises would not
serve their turne, they came suddenlie one night into the chamber
where he laie in bed fast asleepe, and with heavie featherbeds or
a table (as some write) being cast upon him, they kept him down
and . . . thrust up into his bodie an hot spit. . . . His crie did
moove manie within the castell and towne of Berkley to com-
passion ..." (Holinshed, 341.)

2160. Who now makes Fortunes wheele turne as he please.
Compare Tamburlaine, 369-70 :

" I hold the Fates bound fast in yron chaines,
And with my hand turne Fortunes wheel about,"

and again, 2154-7 :

" Madam content your self and be resolv'd,
Your Love hath fortune so at his command,
That she shall stay and turne her wheele no more.'

2197-8. Who should . . . the Queene. Compare Lyly,
Euphues, Anatomy of Wit, I, 264 : "Is there any one more
meete to bring up the infant, then she that bore it ? or will any
be so carefull for it, as shee that bredde it ? "

2199. Mother, perswade me not to weave the crowne. " But the
duke of Aquitaine, when he perceived that his mother tooke the
matter heavilie in appearance, for that hir husband should be
thus deprived of the crowne, he protested that he would never
take it on him, without his fathers consent." (Holinshed, 340.)
This is the only hint that Holinshed gave for the behaviour of
the prince with reference to the deposition of his father, and
probably forms the basis for such passages as 11. 1591, 1628.

22H-I2. 1 tell thee . . . a prince. Editors usually give these
lines as an aside to the queen. Surely Mortimer would not have
laid the emphasis that he does upon ' false ' and ' prince/ had

NOTES 191

the words been intended solely for the queen's ears. Addressed
to her, but not as an aside, the speech is perfectly natural and
lends vividness to the dialogue, leading up as it does to the
lines addressed to the prince. Certainly as an aside the lines do
not harmonize with the tone of 2181-5.

Kyd's Soliman and Perseda, I, v. 71-2, shows a close resem-
blance in language :

" It is not meete that one so base as thou
Shouldst come about the person of a King."

2227. Aged Edward. McLaughlin says that Edward is called
aged " for dramatic and emotional effect. He died at the age of
forty-three. It is not necessary to explain this by saying that
the Chronicles call him ' the old king/ by contrast with his son."
See 1. 2251, on which Bullen quotes a remark of Malone on
Richard II, I, i. i, " Old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lan-
caster " : " Our ancestors, in their estimate of old age, appear
to have reckoned somewhat differently from us, and to have
considered men as old whom we should esteem middle-aged.
With them every man that had passed fifty seems to have been
accounted an old man. ... I believe this is made to arise from
its being customary to enter into life in former times at an
earlier period than we do now. Those who were married at
fifteen had at fifty been master of a house and family for thirty-
five years."

2229. My lord, be not pensive. Scene 22. Before Killing-
worth (Kenilworth) Castle (Dyce).

2242. To keepe. The suggestion to insert ' only/ followed by
some editors, was originally made by Dyce.

2245. Ayre of life. " A Latinism, — aura vitae " (Dyce).
Compare ' vitall aire/ Tamburlaine, 3012.

The somewhat similar fates and reigns of Edward II and
Richard II were reflected in the traditions and popular beliefs
concerning them, at least to some extent. There seems little
doubt that Edward was subjected to treatment much like that
which Marlowe tells us of, but there is apparently no ground for
supposing that Richard in his imprisonment at Pomfret was
treated otherwise than well, at least until the actual murder.
Nevertheless, as Rolfe points out in his note on Richard II, V,
v. 109 : "In the manifesto of the Percies against Henry IV,
issued just before the battle of Shrewsbury, Henry is distinctly

192

EDWARD II

charged with having caused Richard to perish from hunger,
thirst, and cold, after fifteen days of sufferings unheard of among
Christians. Two years later the charge is repeated by Arch-
bishop Scrope, but he adds ' ut vulgariter dicitur.' ' See the
note on 2526 below.

2248. Sterv'd. ' Sterve ' was a common form of ' starve/ as
in Merchant of Venice, IV, i. 138 :

" For thy desires
Are wolvish, bloody, sterv'd, and ravenous."

lives

by many. Compare Hero and

2251-2. Thus
Leander, I, 75-6 :

" and despising many,
Died ere he could enjoy the love of any."

2255 ff. Heeres channell water. The following incident, not
to be found in Holinshed or Fabyan, is taken from Stow (Annals,
ed. 1606, p. 350) : " Moreover, devising to disfigure him that
hee might not bee knowne, they determine for to shave as well
the haire of his head, as also of his beard : wherefore, as in their
journey they travailed by a little water which ranne in a ditch,
they commanded him to light from his horse to be shaven, to
whome, being set on a moale hill, a Barber came unto him with
a basen of colde water taken out of the ditch, to shave him
withall, saying unto the king, that that water should serve for
that time. To whome Edward answered, that would they,
noulde they, he would have warme water for his beard ; and,
to the end that he might keepe his promise, he began to weepe,
and to shed teares plentifully."

2267. All. The omission of this word by some editors is
based on a suggestion of Dyce.

2285. Base villaines, wherefore doe you gripe mee thus? The
querulous, almost hysterical tone of this speech well exhibits the
weakness of Kent's character. Compare 11. 2288, 2400.

2296. The king must die. Scene 23. An apartment in the
royal palace (Dyce).

2301. A friend. Clearly the Bishop of Hereford. See extract
from Holinshed under 1. 2156.

2303. Edwardum occidere nolite timer e bonum est. See note
on 2138 and the extract from Holinshed under 2156. Tancock

NOTES 193

says : " With this may be compared the answer of the
oracle,

' Aio te Aeacida Romanes vincere posse/

The use of a letter with its meaning varying according to the
pointing or position of the stops is not uncommon in plays.
Much of the fun of the comedy Ralph Roister Doister arises
from a love-letter which can be read in two senses, Act iii. 4, 41,
and Act iii. 5, 53. Compare The Players' prologue in A Mid-
summer Night's Dream, v. I. 108." Collier notes that there is
an epigram by Sir J. Harrington (i. 33), " Of writing with
double pointing/' in which this story is referred to. The closest
parallel that I have observed is in Kingsley's Saint's Tragedy,
Poems, 1893, I, 259 : "Of the causes of her mother's murder
the less that is said the better, but the prudent letter which the
Bishop of Gran sent back when asked to join in the conspiracy
against her is worthy notice. ' Reginam occidere nolite timere
bonum est. Si omnes consentiunt ego non contradico.' ' Un-
doubtedly there was a traditional and widely current form for
this ambiguous command. I have not seen Probst, referred to
by Dorrinck, Die Lat. Zitate, etc., 1907, 20.

2316. Lightborn. This character is not found in Holinshed.
See the extract relating Edward's murder under 1. 2156. The
name, ' Lightborn/ occurs, apparently as a translation of
' Lucifer/ as a devil's name in the Chester Creation play, see
Eckhardt, Die Lustige Person, 70. Perrett, Story of King Lear
up to Shakespeare, 113, speaking of the ' Messenger, or murtherer '
in the old Leir, says : " This murderer is the traditional ' shag-
hayrd ' villain (Sc. 24 : p. 374, 1. 20), modelled closely on the
' messenger ' and murderer in ' Edward II,' except in that his
attempt on Leir must fail. He is as resolute as Lightborn, and
thinks as little of murdering a man (Sc. 15 : p. 342, 1. 30 ff.) ;
is not likely to relent if his victims ' speake fayre ' (Sc. 17 :
p. 346, 1. 33) ; and is to be murdered too when he has done the
deed (p. 347, 1. 1 f .) ; all this, and the ' catlike dialogue he holds
with the two helpless old men ' (Sc. 19 : compare Herford, KL.,
p. 10) is Marlowe/' etc. But the two catlike dialogues are
totally different in almost every respect, and I cannot see that
the murderer in Leir is more like Lightborn than like almost any
other Elizabethan murderer selected at random. What char-
acterizes Lightborn is his horridly professional pride ; murder is
for him a fine art, he practises it with the nicety of the expert

194 EDWARD II

and with a similar satisfaction, not merely for the reward.
There is no hint of this in the other figure, and in the absence of
resemblances in language or in details of situation and motive,
such similarities as those cited above seem to go for little.

2324 ff. Tis not the first time I have killed a man. With the
following catalogue of villainies, compare Titus Andronicus,
V, i. 87-144 ; A New Way to Pay Old Debts, IV, i ; Gloucester's
soliloquies, 3 Henry VI, III, ii. 124 ff. ; V, vi. 68 ff. ; Richard
III, I, i. i ff. See in particular The Jew of Malta, 939 ff . :

" As for myself e, I walke abroad a nights
And kill sicke people groaning under walls :
Sometimes I goe about and poyson wells ; . . .
And after that was I an Engineere,
And in the warres 'twixt France and Germanic,
Under pretence of helping Charles the fifth,
Slew friend and enemy with my stratagems. . . .
But tell me now, how hast thou spent thy time ?

Ithi. Faith, Master,
In setting Christian villages on fire," etc.

For Senecan and other parallels see my notes on 62, 12 and 63,
15, in Belles Lettres edition of Sejanus, 1911.

Examples of skill of the kind whereof Lightborn makes boast
are the poisoning of the nuns, the challenge episode, the poisoning
by flowers, etc., in The Jew of Malta, and the murder of Hamlet's
father and its pantomimic reproduction in Hamlet. McLaughlin
says : " Browning's The Laboratory gives the spirit of the
practice, with the omission of those visible horrors from which
the older poets did not flinch." Lightborn 's education has been,
it will be noticed, acquired in Italy, which served as the in-
structress of the rest of Europe in the arts of refined wickedness,
according to Englishmen of Marlowe's day. (A somewhat
exaggerated, but substantially true statement of the attitude
they took toward her is in Vernon Lee's Euphorion, 55 ff., The
Italy of the Elizabethan Dramatists.) So Barrabas learned in
Italy much that he found of service in executing his designs in
Malta. Compare Jew of Malta, 784 ff. :

" I learn'd in Florence how to kisse my hand,
Heave up my shoulders when they call me dogge,
And ducke as low as any bare-foot Fryar." ;

2329. Powder in his eares. This is almost the method em-
ployed by Hamlet's uncle. Compare Hamlet, I, v. 60 ff., " with
juice of cursed hebenon in a vial."

NOTES 195

2341. The prince I rule, etc. Ben Jonson had it in mind at
one time to write a play on the subject of Mortimer, and there
exist about seventy lines of the opening scene. Worth observing
is the fact that the play was to begin at precisely this point in
Mortimer's career and that Jonson intended to develop precisely
the conception of Mortimer's character which is conveyed in
this speech. Mortimer's opening soliloquy in Jonson explains
his principles of action, which are much the same as those of
Marlowe's Mortimer, save that Jonson states them in a more
generalized form, with less reference to the particular facts of the
situation. The difference between the two speeches corresponds
to the difference between the popular Machiavellianism current
in the drama of Marlowe's day (Meyer, Machiavelli and the
Elizabethan Drama, 1897) and the somewhat more matured
conceptions of a generation later. Compare Briggs, The In-
fluence of Jonson' s Tragedy in the Seventeenth Century, Anglia,
xxxv. 332.

Compare I Henry VI, V, v. 107-8 :

" Margaret shall now be queen, and rule the king ;
But I will rule both her, the king, and realm."

2342. Conge, Fr. conge, a bow.

2345. Feard am I more then lov'd : — let me befeard. This is an
adaptation of the classical ' oderint dum metuant.' Compare
Cicero, De Officiis, I, 28, 97.

2349 ff. They thrust upon me the Protectorship. With this
compare Richard's manner of accepting the crown in Richard
III, III, vii. 44 ff.

2352. Bashfull. The word has here the sense of ' hypo-
critically modest.' Such was the character borne by the Puritans
in the drama of the time.

2353. Imbecilitie, i.e. weak health, rendering him unable to
discharge the duties of the office.

2354. Onus quam gravissimum, i.e. an exceedingly heavy
burden.

The hypocritical method of obtaining power while seeming
to abhor it is common in the Elizabethan drama ; Richard III
employs it, and so does Tiberius in Jonson 's Sejanus. In each
case the procedure is the same in essentials, and in each case

196

EDWARD II

there is historical authority, however trustworthy, for the
dramatist's representation.

2356. Suscepi that provinciam, as they terme it, i.e. I assumed
the office. Marlowe is apparently taking a fling at the use of the
term provincia, though it is classical Latin in that sense.

2358. The Queene and Mortimer. " And bicause he [Edward
III] was but fourteene yeares of age, so that to governe of him-
selfe he was not sufficient, it was decreed that twelve of the
greatest lords within the realme should have the rule and govern-
ment till he came to more perfect yeares. [Mortimer is not given
by Holinshed among the twelve.] . . . These were sworne of
the kings councell, and charged with the governement as they
would make answer. But this ordinance continued not long :
for the queene, and the lord Roger Mortimer tooke the whole
rule so into their hands, that both the king and his said councellors
were governed onelie by them in all matters both high and low "
(Holinshed, 343).

" But the earle of March [Mortimer was given this rank in
1328] tooke the most part of the rule of all things perteining
either to the king or realme into his owne hands : so that the
whole government rested in a manner betwixt the queene mother
and him. The other of the councell that were first appointed,
were in manner displaced ; for they bare no rule to speake of at
all, which caused no small grudge to arise against the queene
and the said earle of March, who mainteined such ports, and
kept among them such retinue of servants, that their provision
was woonderfull, which they caused to be taken up, namelie for
the queene, at the kings price, to the sore oppression of the people,
which tooke it displesantlie inough " (ibid., p. 347-8). On p. 340
Holinshed had already said of Mortimer that " what he willed
the same was doone, and without him the queene in all these
matters did nothing."

2359- Rule us- Brooke says that Dodsley, Dyce, and Cunning-
ham read ' rules us.' All of these, however, agree in reading
' rule us.' In fact, Dyce has a note on his divergence from the
reading of quarto 1598 in each of his editions.

2362. Maior sum, etc. I am so great as not to be open to the
attacks of fortune. The line is from Ovid, Metamorphoses, vi.
195-

NOTES 197

2363. And that this le the coronation day. " The ambassadours
with this answer [see under 1954] returning to London, declared
the same unto all the states, in order as they had received it,
whereupon great joy was made of all men, to consider that they
might now by course of law proceed to the choosing of a new
king. And so therupon the nine and twentith day of Januarie
in session of parlement then at Westminster assembled, was the
third king Edward, sonne to king Edward the second, chosen
and elected king of England, by the authoritie of the same
parlement, first (as before is said) confirmed by his fathers
resignation : and the first day of his reigne they agreed to be the
five and twentith of Januarie, in the yeare 1326 after the account
of the church of England, beginning the yeare the five & twentith
day of March, but by the common account of writers, it was in
the yeare 1327 " (Holinshed, 341).

2365. st. dir. Enter the yong King. Dyce suggests a change
of scene at this point.

2368. Cham. If any Christian, Heathen, etc. " In connexion
with the English coronation a number of claims to do certain
services have sprung up, and before each coronation a court of
claims is constituted, which investigates and adjudicates on the
claims that are made. The most striking of all these services is
that of the challenge made by the king's champion, an office
which has been hereditary in the Dymoke family for many
centuries. Immediately following the service in the church a
banquet was held in Westminster Hall, during the first course
of which the champion entered the hall on horseback, armed
cap-a-pie, with red, white and blue feathers in his helmet. He
was supported by the high constable on his right, and the earl
marshal on his left, both of whom were also mounted. On his
appearance in the hall a herald in front of him read the challenge,
the words of which have not materially varied at any period, as
follows : ' If any person, of what degree soever, high or low,
shall deny or gainsay our sovereign lord, . . . king of the
United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, defender of the
faith, (son and) next heir unto our sovereign lord the last king
deceased, to be the right heir to the imperial crown of this realm
of Great Britain and Ireland, or that he ought not to enjoy the
same ; here is his champion, who saith that he lieth, and is a
false traitor, being ready in person to combat with him ; and in
this quarrel will adventure his life against him, on what day

198

EDWARD II

soever he shall be appointed/ The champion then threw down
the gauntlet. The challenge was again made in the centre of the
hall, and a third time before the high table, at which the king
was seated. The king then drank to the champion out of a
silver-gilt cup, with a cover, which he handed to him as his fee.
The banquet was last held, and the challenge made, at the
coronation of George IV in 1821. The champion's claim was
admitted in 1902, but as there was no banquet the duty of
bearing the standard of England was assigned to him. There is
no record of the challenge having been ever accepted." Encycl.
Brit., nth ed., s.v. Coronation.

2374. What traitor have wee there. Marlowe has combined two
efforts of Kent on Edward II's behalf. For the first, see the ex-
tract under 2156 ; for the second, the following from Holinshed,
348, sub anno 1329-30. " The king [Edward III] about the
beginning, or (as other saie) about the middle of Lent, held a
parlement at Winchester, during the which, Edmund of Wood-
stoke earle of Kent the kings uncle was arrested the morrow
after saint Gregories day, and being arreigned upon certeine
confessions and letters found about him, he was found guiltie
of treason. There were diverse in trouble about the same matter,
for the earle upon his open confession before sundrie lords of
the realme, declared that not onelie by commandement from the
pope, but also by the setting on of diverse nobles of this land
(whome he named) he was persuaded to indevour himselfe by
all waies and meanes possible how to deliver his brother king
Edward the second out of prison, and to restore him to the
crowne, whome one Thomas Dunhed, a frier of the order of
preachers in London, affirmed for certeine to be alive, having
(as he himselfe said) called up a spirit to understand the truth
thereof, and so what by counsell of the said frier, and of three
other friers of the same order, he had purposed to worke some
meane how to deliver him, and to restore him againe to the king-
dome. Among the letters that were found about him, disclosing
a great part of his practise, some there were, which he had written
and directed unto his brother the said king Edward, as by some
writers it should appeare.

" The bishop of London and certeine other great personages,
whome he had accused, were permitted to go at libertie, under
suerties taken for their good demeanour and foorth comming.
But Robert de Touton, and the frier that had raised the spirit

NOTES 199

for to know whether the kings father were living or not, were
committed to prison, wherein the frier remained till he died.
The earle himselfe was had out of the castell gate at Winchester,
and there lost his head the 19 day of March, chief elie (as was
thought) thorough the malice of the queene mother, and of the
earle of March : whose pride and high presumption the said
earle of Kent might not well abide. His death was the lesse
lamented, bicause of the presumptuous governement of his
servants/' etc.

2406. And shall my Unckle Edmund ride with us ? One asks
whether the prince is consistently characterized. Would a boy
old enough to speak as in 11. 1362 ff ., ask this childish question ?

Tetzlaff, Die Kindergestalten bei den englischen Dramatikern,
etc., 1898, 64, remarks that Prince Edward in 3 Henry VI,
"erinnert lebhaft an seinen Namensvetter Prinz Edward in
Marlowes ' Edward II.' Beide Prinzen sind energische, edle
Knaben, beide sind kiihn und freimutig in der Rede ; freilich
entbehrt der Shakespearesche Prinz jener Zartheit des Geimites,
welche dem Marloweschen eigen ist. Beide schliessen sich eng
an ihre Mutter an und] lassen die Ehrfurcht vor ihren Vatern
nicht ausser Acht."

2408. Gurney, I wonder the king dies not. Scene 24. A hall in
Berkeley Castle (Lightborn presently speaks of ' the next
room ') (Dyce).

2417. A body able to endure. Edward II was tall and handsome,
and of an unusually strong constitution. This fact is emphasized
in the chronicle description of him and in the account of his
death.

2432. Pereat iste, i.e., let him (that is, Lightborn) be slain.
This addition to the message is hinted at by Mortimer in 2314,
and ironically in 2337.

2433. Lake. Editors have been disturbed by this word ;
those who retain ' lake ' take it as referring to the moat of the
castle, or else by metaphor to the dungeon : others adopt
Bullen's conjecture ' lock/ But N.E.D., under ' lake, sb. 4,'
points out a transferred meaning of ' lake ' occurring in the
fifteenth century, namely, an underground dungeon, a prison.
No sixteenth-century example is given. However, just before
this definition, N.E.D. gives an instance from 1506 in which

200

EDWARD II

' lake ' is used of the den of lions into which Daniel was
cast.

2438. Spit. The variant ' spet ' of Q. 2 was a good con-
temporary form and should have been retained in all editions
not based on Quarto i.

2445. So ; — now. Dyce supposes a change of scene at this
point ; Lightborn draws a curtain displaying the dungeon, and
the action goes on in it. It is not clear at what point the bed
(see 1. 2440) is brought in. The bed has been introduced by
1. 2479, and the table is brought at 1. 2517.

2446. Geare, i.e. business, affair.

2449 ff . Whose there, what light is that, wherefore comes thou ?
Verity, in the essay cited, compares 3 Henry VI, V, vi. 29-33 :

" But wherefore dost thou come ? is't for my life ?
Glou. Think'st thou I am an executioner ?
K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art."

He refers also to Richard HI, I, iv. 165 ff .

In connection with the following scene, as well as scene 20,
must be quoted one of the most celebrated of Lamb's remarks
on Elizabethan dramatists : " In a very different style from
mighty Tamburlaine is the tragedy of Edward the Second. The
reluctant pangs of abdicating royalty in Edward furnished hints,
which Shakspeare scarcely improved in his Richard the Second ;
and the death-scene of Marlowe's king moves pity and terror
beyond any scene ancient or modern with which I am acquainted"
(Works, Temple edition, iv. 215).

2470 ff . So that for want of sleepe and sustenance. Compare
Tamburlaine, 1734 ff . :

" Bai. My empty stomacke ful of idle heat,
Drawes bloody humours from my feeble partes,
Preserving life, by hasting cruell death.
My vaines are pale, my sinowes hard and drie,
My iontes benumb'd, unlesse I eat, I die."

2475 f . Tell Isabell. . . . Fraunce.
in 2 Henry VI, I, iii. 53 f. :

A not dissimilar passage

I tell thee, Pole, when in the city Tours
Thou ran'st a tilt in honour of my love
And stolest away the ladies' hearts of France," etc.

NOTES 201

And in Tennyson's Passing of Arthur :

" So like a shatter 'd column lay the King ;
Not like that Arthur who, with lance in rest,
From spur to plume a star of tournament,
Shot thro' the lists at Camelot, and charged
Before the eyes of ladies and of kings."

Is not the germ of such passages to be found in the quantum
mutatus ab illo of Mneid, II, 274 ?

2481. Tragedie written in thy browes. So ' characters graven
in thy browes/ Tamburlaine, 364.

2484. And even. The superfluous ' and ' may perhaps be
explained on the analogy of ' and if.' See note on 1. 757.

2490. Forgive my thought for having such a thought. Fleay's
emendation would have been better supported by 3 Henry VI,
III, ii. 164, " O monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought,"
which he does not cite, than by his citation of Richard III, II,
i. 104, " My brother slew no man ; his fault was thought."

2508. 0 let, etc. The punctuation in this line is that of the
first three quartos. Some editors prefer to place the stop after
•yet.'

2510. Something still busseth in mine eares, And tels me. Com-
pare Faustus, 439-40 :

" O something soundeth in mine eares :
Abiure this Magicke,"
and 625 :

" Who buzzeth in mine eares I am a spirite ? "

2517. Runne for the table. Dyce thinks that the red-hot spit
is not produced on the stage. He is probably right, though it
would not be the horror of the spectacle that would deter Marlowe
from making use of it. Compare the end of the Jew of Malta,
where Barrabas dies shrieking in the caldron ; in Chettle's
Hoffman, one of the characters is slain by means of a red-hot iron
crown pressed down upon his brows.

Verity notices the allusion to this scene in Peele's Honour of
the Garter, 220 ff. :

" More loyal than that cruel Mortimer
That plotted Edward's death at Killingsworth,
Edward the Second, father to this King,
Whose tragic cry even now methinks I hear,
When graceless wretches murder 'd him by night."

202

EDWARD II

That the allusion is to the scene in Marlowe seems clear from the
fact that Holinshed and Stow do not assign to Mortimer the
prominent part in Edward's murder which Marlowe gives him.
See note on 1. 2138. And Verity also notes in his Harness Prize
Essay, 73, n. i, that Peele had mentioned Marlowe in the Pro-
logue to the poem.

2524. Take this for thy rewarde. This killing of the murderer
and thus catching him in his own trap is distinctly a Machiavellian
touch as Machiavellianism was understood in Marlowe's day,
more especially in England.

2526. And leave the kings to Mortimer our lord. There was a
story that Edward escaped from Berkeley Castle, and passed
his last years in the north of Italy ; for a full discussion of this
point see Nuova Antologia, 1901, April i, 403 ff. In the same
way, there grew up a story that Richard II had escaped from
Pomfret and ended his life in Scotland. (See D.N.B. under
Richard II, and compare note on 1. 2245.)

2528. 1st done, Matrevis ?
royal palace (Dyce).

2530. Matrevis, if thou now growest penitent. " The queene,
the bishop, and others, that their tyrannic might be hid, outlawed
and banished the lord Matrevers, and Thomas Gourney, who
flieng unto Marcels, three yeares after being knowne, taken, and
brought toward England was beheaded on the sea, least he should
accuse the chiefe dooers, as the bishop and other. John Matrevers,
repenting himselfe, laie long hidden in Germanie, and in the end
died penitentlie " (Holinshed, 341-2).

2531. Ghostly father, i.e. ' priest,' a common phrase in this
sense. As the priest brought the last sacraments to one at the
point of death, so ' to be one's priest ' signified ' to kill one/ as
in The Spanish Tragedy, III, iii. 37 : " Who first laies hand on
me, ile be his Priest."

Scene 25. An apartment in the

Joves huge tree, i.e. the oak, sacred to Jove. Tancock
compares the magna Jovis quercus of Virgil, Georgics, iii. 332.

2550. Now, Mortimer, begins our tragedie. For dramatic
reasons Marlowe places the detection and punishment of Mortimer
almost immediately after the murder of the king. In other
respects also he departs from his source, displaying here the same

NOTES 203

tendency to simplify that has been elsewhere noticed. The
following is Holinshed's account, p. 348-9 : " Also in a parlement
holden at Notingham about saint Lukes tide [1330], sir Roger
Mortimer the earle of March was apprehended the seventeenth
day of October within the castell of Notingham, where the king
with the two queenes, his mother and his wife, and diverse other
were as then lodged. And though the keies of the castell were
dailie and nightlie in the custodie of the said earle of March, and
that his power was such, as it was doubted how he might be
arrested (for he had, as some writers afnrme, at that present in
retinue nine score knights, beside esquiers, gentlemen and
yeomen), yet at length by the kings helpe, the lord William
Montacute, the lord Humfrie de Bohun, and his brother sir
William, the lord Rafe Stafford, the lord Robert Ufford, the lord
William Clinton, the lord John Nevill of Hornbie, and diverse
other, which had accused the said earle of March for the murther
of king Edward the second, found means by intelligence had
with sir William de Eland constable of the castell of Notingham,
to take the said earle of March with his sonne the lord Roger or
Geffrey Mortimer, and sir Simon Hereford, with other.

" Sir Hugh Trumpington or Turrington (as some copies have)
that was one of his cheefest freends with certeine other were
slaine, as they were about to resist against the lord Montacute,
and his companie in taking of the said earle. The manner of his
taking I passe over, bicause of the diversitie in report thereof by
sundrie writers. From Notingham he was sent up to London
with his sonne . . . where they were committed to prison in the
tower. Shortlie after was a parlement called at Westminster,
cheefelie (as was thought) for reformation of things disordered
through the misgovernance of the earle of March. But whosoever
was glad or sorie for the trouble of the said earle, suerlie the
queene mother tooke it most heavilie above all other, as she that
loved him more (as the fame went) than stood well with hir
honour. For as some write, she was found to be with child by
him. They kept as it were house togither, for the earle to have
his provision the better cheape, laid his penie with hirs, so that
hir takers served him as well they did hir both of vittels &
cariages. . . . But now in this parlement holden at Westminster
he was attainted of high treason expressed in five articles, as in
effect followeth. First, he was charged that he had procured
Edward of Carnarvon the kings father to be murthered in most
heinous and tyrannous maner within the castell of Berklie. . . .

204 EDWARD II

Fifthlie, that he had impropried unto him divers wards that
belonged unto the king : and had beene more privie with queene
Isabel! the kings mother, than stood either with Gods law, or
the kings pleasure.

" These articles with other being prooved against him, he was
adjudged by authoritie of the parlement to suffer death, and
according thereunto, upon saint Andrewes even next insuing,
he was at London drawne and hanged, at the common place of
execution, called in those daies The elmes, & now Tiborne, as in
some bookes we find."

2553. How now. For the reading of the second quarto,
followed by Dyce and others, compare Holinshed, 495 : " The
duke of Norfolke was not fullie set forward, when the king cast
downe his warder, and the heralds cried, ' Ho, ho/ " that is,
' stop ' or ' hold/

2560 ff . Weepe not, sweete sonne. Compare Lust's Dominion,
I,iii.:

" Queen M. Sweet son.

Phil. Sweet mother ; O, how I now do shame
To lay on one so foul so fair a name :
Had you been a true mother, a true wife,
This king had not so soon been robb'd of life."

2566. Thinke. Dyce in his second edition suggested the
insertion of ' it ' after this word. Broughton wished to insert
* so ' after ' be/

2571. The hand of Mortimer. Tancock notes the inconsistency
of this with 1. 2301.

2572. False Gurney hath betraide me. Gurney did not betray
the murder according to the account in Holinshed. See under
11. 2530 and 2550.

2606. And therefore we commit you to the Tower. Holinshed
does not say that Isabel was committed to the Tower, or that
any special investigation was made of her part in the murder.
" In this parlement holden at Westminster, the king tooke into
his hand, by advise of the states there assembled, all the posses-
sions, lands and revenues that belonged to the queene his mother
she having assigned to hir a thousand pounds by yeare, for the
maintenance of hir estate, being appointed to remaine in a
certeine place, and not to go elsewhere abroad : yet the king to

NOTES 205

comfort hir, would lightlie everie yeare once come to visit hit "
(Holinshed, 349).

2610. Nay, to my death, JOY too long have I lived. Miss Lee, in
the article cited, compares " Even to my death, for I have lived
too long," from the First Part of the Contention, vii. 10.

2611. To abridge my dales. Compare Tamburlaine, 2067 :
"Now Baiazeth, abridge thy banefull daies."

2625. Helpe me to moorne, my lords. Tancock compares the
last speech of Henry in Richard II.

INDEX

Abbot (the), 69

Abraham and Isaac, xxv

Achilles (or Achillis), 29, 126, 131

Acres (Joane de), 130, 145

Acrisius, 138

Act (division), 103

Actaeon, 9

Adamant, 49, 153

Adjectives (use of, in Marlowe), 184

/Eneid, 181, 201

iEschylean Agamemnon, Ixxxix

Aimer de Valence, Sir. See Pem-
broke

Albion Knight, xxxiv

Alcazar (battle of), 178

Alcibiades, 29, 131

Aldham (the lord Francis de), 170

Alexander, 29, 131

Alphonsus, Ivi

Alucius, xl

Ameto. See Boccaccio

Angelica de Resurrectione Christi . . .,
xxiv

Annals, Stow's. See Stow

Antick hay, 9, 108

Antony and Cleopatra (play), 105

Apology (Hey wood), (note) cxxi

Aquitaine, duke of (see Edward
III), 188, 190

Arber (editor), xlvii, 108, 132

— (School of Abuse), xxxvi

Arden of Feversham (play), xii, xiv,

XV, XX, 112, 138, 177, 182

Arderne, 146

Argonauts, 112

Aristorchus, 87

Aristotle, 70

Arnold of Spaine, 166

Arthois (earle of), 166

Arthur (King), Ix, 139

Arthur (Prince), Ixxii, Ixxxiv

Artick, 105

Arundell (earle of), 46, 47, 48, 49,

53. 54. 63, 115, 134, 152, 158, 172
Ascham, Toxophilus, xlvii
Ashbornham, the lord Bartholomew

de, 170

As you like it, 188
Athenaum, The, 188
Aubrey . . ., xl

B

Bacon, xcvi, ci

Badelismere, the lord Bartholomew

de, 170

Badlesmere (castle of), cii, 161
Baeske (Oldcastle : Falstaff), (note)

Ixxx
Baldock, or Balduck, or Robert

Baldocke, 30, 31, 32, 40, 41/51,

56, 59, 66, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73,

134. 135. 136, 157. 172, 175. 176,

177, 178

Bale, Kynge Johan, xxxiv
Baliol, John, 169
Ballad, 1, cxxviii
Bang, 109, 125
Banister (or Bannister), [cii, 187

207

208

INDEX

Bannockburn (or Bannocks borne),

39, 134, 142, 144
Barabas (or Barabbas), 107, 194,

201

Barbars, 84

Barnes' Devil's Charter, 123
Barnet (battle of), xviii
Barnfield's Affectionate Shepherd,

108

Barons' War (Dray ton), 168
Bartley (or Berkeley), 4, 78, 80, 185
Bayne (ed.), 112

Beaumont (and Fletcher), cxxvi, 28
Beaumont (lord Henrie), 130
— (John the lord), 165
Bereford, sir Simon, 203
Berkeley (castle of), 189, 199, 202,

203

Blacklow Hill (Blackelow), ciii, 147
Blacksmith's Daughter (Gosson),

xxxix
Blind Beggar of Bethnal Green (Day

and Chettle), Ixix
Boas (editor), 101, 125
Boccaccio (Fiammetta), 186
Bolton, Edmund, Ixi
Bond (editor), 101
Bonduca (Fletcher), Ixiv
Bohun, the lord Humfrie de, 203
— Sir William de, 203
Bordisley (abbey of), 162
Boroughbridge (battle of), 160
Bradborne, the lord Henrie, 170
Brandl, xxx

Brathwait's Natures Embassie, 126
Brereton, 106, 139, 184, 185
Bristowe (Bristow), 65, 67, 68, 170,

171, 172, 173, 186
Brooke, Dr. Tucker (editor, Edward
II), (note) xci, 4, 101, 109, 125,
131, 149, 161, 179, 196
Brotanek (Englische Maskenspiele),

xxxviii, 107
Broughton, 168, 169, 171, 204

Browne, Sir Thomas, 127

Bruce, Edward, 129, 142

— lord William de, 156

Bruse, lord (see lord William), 52

Brute, Ix, cxxi

Brute, Chronicle of, xlvi

Buckingham, xx, 141, 187

Bullen (editor), 101, 118, 129, 153,

173, 182, 187, 188, 191
" Burbidge cry'de," liv
Burke, cxiv

Burleigh, Cecil, son of, cxxvii
Burton-on-Trent (battle of), 160
Byrsa Basilica, xli

Cade, Jack, Ixvii, xcviii, xcix
Caesar, 13

CcBsar and Pompey (play), xxxviii
Calais (capture of), cxvii
Calendars of State Papers, 143
Cambyses (play), xxxvi, xxxviii
Canterburie (bishop of), 15, 16, 17,

1 8 ; (called also Robert the

archbishop of Canterburie), 147
Canterbury, Archbishop of, 186
Camden, Remaines, Ixi, 132
Capgrave, Nova Legenda Anglia,

xlvii

Captain Cox, Furnivall's, 108
Carpenter, 104

Cassel (copy of Quarto, 1594). I3I
Catiline, 68, 174
Catilins Conspiracies, xxxvii
Caucasus, 91

Caxton's Chronicle of Brute, xlvi
Cedar, 33, 34, 137
Challenge for Beauty* Hey wood's,

cxxiii
Chambers' Medieval Stage, xxviii,

xxxiv, xxxviii, Iv

INDEX

209

Champion, 88

Chapman's Bussy d'Amboise, xcv

Chappell, vi

Charles. See King of France

Charon, 72

Chaucer, 126

Chenie, the lord William, 170

Chester (Walter Langton, Bishop

of), 104
Chester Plays, xxvi

— (Creation), xxviii, xxxii, 193

— (Noah Play), xxv, xxvi
Chettle (Porter and), 133, 201
Child (Battle of Otterbourne) , 1

— Rose of England, 1

— Flodden Field, 1
Chirke, 26, 129

Chronicle drama, Ixviii, Ixxvii,
Ixxxiii, xc

— History, xvi, xvii, xxi, xxxi,
xxxiii, xxxix, xlii, li, Ivii, Ixvi,
Ixvii, Ixxiii, Ixxvii, Ixxx, Ixxxvii,
Ixxxviii, xcii, xcvi, xcvii, xcviii,
cix, cxxi, cxxiii, cxxiv, cxxvii,
cxxviii, cxxix, cxxx, 123

— Plays, xl, xli, liii, Iv, Ix, Ixii,
Ixxv, cviii, cxii

Chronicles, 191

Churchill, Ixx, (note) Ixxxii, Ixxxiv,
xli

— (Shakespeare Jahrbuch), xli
Cicero, 131, 174, 195
Cinthio, 119

Circes, 22, 125, 126

Clare, Gilbert, earl of Gloucester,

145. 159
Clarence, xix
Clearchus, 137
Cleopatra, 105
Cleremont, duke of, 91
Clifford, Roger lord, 170
Clinton, the lord William, 203
Cloetta (Beitrage zur Litteratur-

geschichte des Mittelalters), xxxiii

Cobham (see Oldcastle), 49, 153

Collier, xxxix, Ixxx, 168, 193

coma (comma), 190

Comedy, xii, xiii, xvii, Ixviii

Comedy of Errors, cxiv

conge, 195

Conversion of St. Paul (play), xxviii

Contention between York and Lan-
caster (First Part) (play), xc, xciv,
xcvi, xcvii, c, 142, 177

Corbet, Poems of Bishop, liv

Corfe, castle of, 188

Coriolanus, 117, 145

Cornelia, 155, 162

Cornewall (lord of, or earle of), 14,
26, 29, 31, 34.. 35, no, 113, 130,
138, 146, 147, 160, 162

— See Gaveston
coronation, 197, 198
cosin, n, in, 140

Courtier and the Countryman, 132
Couentrie (or Coventrie) and Lich-

field, Bishop of, 13, 114
Craig, H., xxviii
Crawford, (note) xc, 112, 138, 182

— (Collectanea), 108
Creizenach, xxix, xxx, xxxiii, xli,

xliii, (note) Ixxxiv, (note) xc, 187
Cressy (battle of), Ixxi, cxvii
Creusa, 181

Crispin and Crispinianus, xxix
Cromwell, True Chronicle History of

Thomas, Lord, xxviii, xxxii,

cxviii, cxx, cxxi
Crosse, Henry (editor), 125
crown, 20 1
crowne (triple), 123
crownet, 9, 108
Culpepper, sir Thomas, 170
Cunningham, Growth of English

Industry, 143
Cunningham, ed. of Marlowe, 149,

154, 172, 196
Cutwell, xl

210

INDEX

Cyclops, 27
Cymbeline, Ix, cxxii

Damon and Pythias (play), xxxii

Danae, 35, 59, 138

Dane, 143

Daniel, Samuel, Ixi

Dante, 186

Davenport, (note) cxxi

David and Bethsabe. See Peele

Day (and Chettle), Ixix

— Blind Beggar of Bednal Green,
Ixix

Deddington, 153

Dekker's Satiromastiv, Ixiii

Deipnosophistae, 137

Denmark, 143

Derbie, earldome of, 163

Derricke, John (Second Part of

Image of Ireland), 141
Despensers, 134, 154, 167^ See also

Spenser

Despenser, Lady, 167
Destruction of Jerusalem (play),

xxxviii

Destruction of Troy (play), 126
Devil is an Ass, liv
Dian, 9
Dido (play), Ivii, 103, 121, 125, 149,

151, 175, 177, 180
dictamnum, or dittany, 181
Digby, Mary Magdalen, xxvii, cxx

— Burial and Resurrection of Christ,
xxviii

Dodsley, in, 121, 167, 179, 187, 196

Dorothea, cvii

Downfall and Death of Robert Earl

of Huntington, Ixix
Drama of manners, xxiv

— of religion, xxiv
Dray ton, Ixi, 154, 168
Drummond, x

Dryden, x

— Absalom and Achitophel, 149

— Essay of Dramatic Poesy, Iviii

— The Medal, 184
Dunhed, Thomas, 198
Dunstan, Ixiv
Diintzer, 135
Durham, Bishop of, cii

Dyce (editor), 101, 103, 106, 117,
118, 120, 121, 124, 125, 126, 133,
136, 138, 139, 140, 145, 150, 151,
152, 154, 161, 162, 167, 168, 169,
171, 172, 173, 175, 178, 179, 187,
188, 191, 192, 196, 199, 202, 204

— The Jests of George Peele, Ixxxviii
Dymoke Family, 197

Eagle, 33, 34, 137

Earle, Microcosmographie, 134

Eckhardt, xxx

— Die Lustige Person, xxviii, 193

Edinburgh, Siege of, xli

Edmond Couchback, Ixxxviii

Edmund (see Kent), 38, 42, 66, 67,
188

Edward Longshanks, 50

Edward I (Peele 's), xiv, xvii, Ixix,
(note) Ixix, Ixxii, Ixxxvii, Ixxxviii,
xc, xci, xcvii, ciii, 103, 114, 118,
121, 155, 162, 169, 179, 184

Edward II (history of), 136

Edward II, editions of, 3

Edward, Prince (see Edward III),
52, 53, 60, 61, 62, 63, 65, 67, 68,
81, 82, 88, 89, 94, 95, 96, 97, 103,
108

Edward II J (play), li, Ixii, Ixx, cxvii,
143, 144, 172, 177, 189, 196, 197.
198, 199.

Edward I V, xx, xxi, Ixvii, Ixx, Ixxii

Edwardes* Palamon and Arcyte,

INDEX

211

Eland, Sir William de, 203

Elidure, Ixiv

Elinor of Castile (or of Spain), xiv,

(note) Ixix, Ixxxviii, 50, in
Elizabeth, cxxi, 108, 164
Elizabethan Literature, xii

— Drama, x, xi, xxvi

— plays, xxxi
Elizium, 7

Ellis (and Verity), 121, 128

Elmebridge, sir William, 170

Elmore, Professor, 136

Elton, Michael Drayton, Ixix

Elze, 128

English Chronicles, xvi

Ephestion (see Haephestion), 29,

131

Epic spirit, Ivii
d'Eovill, sir Gosein, 170
Euphorion (Vernon Lee's), 194
Euphues and his England, 132, 144,

145, 149, 155, 162, 175, 190
Euripides, 181
Everyman, 121, 186, 187
Every Man in His Humour, Iv,

cxxiv
Exeter, William Stapleton, bishop

of, 170

Fabii, Play of the, xxxviii
Fabyan, xlvii, 141, 144, 192
Fabyan and Stow, (note) ciii
Faerie Queene, 123, 144, 158, 171
Fairholt, 177]
Fair Em, Ixiv, Ixix
Falconbridge, Ixx, Ixxxv, Ixxxvi,

M3

— rebellion of, xix, xx
Faligan, 108, 183
Falkland, Lord, 137
Famous Chronicle of Edward I, xiv.

See Edward I

Famous Victories of Henry V, (note)
Ixxiii, Ixxx, Ixxxi, Ixxxiv, cxxii,
188

Faustus (play), lix, xciii, 103, 104,

117, 121, 130, 135, 150, 151, 162,
178, 183, 184, 187, 201

Feuillerat, Revels, xl, xli

Fiammetta. See Boccaccio

Field (editor), 186

fier (fire), 181

Fischer, Kunstentwickelung der en-

glischen Tragb'die, xxxii, 103, 131,

161, 163

Fieules, John de, 168
fitzWilliam, the lord William, 170
Fleay, Iviii, in, 132, 139, 152, 153,

154. i55> 158, 173, 179, 201

— Life of Shakespeare, (note) xc

— Biographical Chronicle, (note)
Ixxxvi

— (and Tancock), ciii
Fleming, sir William, 170
Fletcher's Bonduca, Ixiv

— Island Princess, 187
Flodden Field (Child), 1
flying fish, 34, 137
Fliigel, 126

Ford, Ixiii, cxxvii, cxxviii, cxxix,
182

Ford's Perkin Warbeck, Ixiii

foreslowe, 44, 149

Fortune, 190

Fournier, 154

Foxe's Book of Martyrs, or Monu-
ments, (note) Ixxv, cxviii

— Christus Triumphans, xxix
France, King of (see also Valoys),

52, 60, 61, 164, 165, 166
Franz, Shakespeare Grammatik, 105,

114, 128, 145, 152, 161, 168, 169
Frederick II, 143
Freytag, Gustav, Ivii, 103
Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay, lix,

Ixviii, Ixxxvii, 151, 184

212

INDEX

Friedland, Dramatic Unities in

England, xxi

Friscobald, Aimerie de, 139
Furnivall, Ixxvii
Furnivall's Captain Cox, 108

Ganimed (Ganymede), 23, 126

Gardiner, (note) cxxvii

Gascoine, 139

Gascoigne, Princely Pleasures, 108

Gaunt, John of, xlix, 191

Gaveston, ciii, civ, cv, cvi, cvii, 7-9,
10-14, 16-24, 26, 27, 29, 32, 34,
36, 39, 41, 42, 43-47, 58, 84, 103,
104, 105, 107, 108, 109, no, 112,

113, Il6, 119, 122, 130, 131. 133,

138, 144, 145, 147, 148, 150, 154,

155, 160, 162, 163

Gayley, Plays of Our Forefathers,
xxix

geare, 90, 200

Genitive for Nominative, 125

Gentleman, 31

Geoffrey of Monmouth, Ixi, Ixii,
Ixiii, Ixvi

George, Saint, xl, 57, 161

gesses, 138

Gifford, the lord John, 170

Globe (edition), 101

Gloucester, or Gilbert de Clare, earle
of Glocester, or earle of Gloster,
or Gloster's heire . . ., xix, xx,
Ixxxviii, xcviii, 29, 41, 115, 130,

*33> 134. 145. 146, 159, 172, 175
Glocester the elder, Ixxxviii, 41,

145. 175
Gloucester, Humphrey Duke of,

Ixxii, 140

Gloucester (see Richard III), 194
Glocester (town of), 173, 186
Gloster, The Honorable Life of the

Humorous Earl of, Ixviii

Goose (and Porpintine), 8
Gorboduc, xxxv, xxxvi, xxxix, xlii,

Ivi, Ixvii, Ixxvi
Gosse, 143

Gosson, xxxvi, xxxvii, Iv, Ivi
Gosson's School of Abuse, xxxvii

— Plays Confuted, xxxvii, cxxv

— Blacksmith's Daughter, xxxix

— Catilins Conspiracies, xxxvii
Gower, 126

Grafton, xlvii, Ixi

Gran, Bishop of, 193

Grand, Mounsier le, 62

Gray (and Scroope), Ixxi

Greene, Ixxxvii, (note) xc, (note) c,
cvii, cxxiii, 101, 106, 114, 117,
118, 119, 121, 122, 125, 162

— Friar Bacon, lix

— James IV, A Scottish History,
Ix, Ixviii

— Looking-Glass for London and
England, 149

— Orlando Furioso, xiii, 184

— True Tragedy of Richard III, xi
Greg, Henslowe's Diary, 133
Grosart (editor), 126, 185

Guard, 37
Guicciardini, xcvi

Gurney, 80-86, 89, 90, 91, 93, 95,
188, 199, 202, 204

H

Hall, Ixx

Hall's Chronicle, xlviii

Halliwell, First Sketches of Second

and Third Parts Henry VI. Iv
Hakewill's Apologia, Ixi
Hakluyt's Voyages, 137
Hamlet, 127, 175, 188, 194
Hansa, 143

Harclay, Andrew, cii, 160
Harkley. See Harclay
Hardy, Thomas, ix

INDEX

213

Harpie, 34

hart, 126

Harvey, Richard, Philadelphus, Ixi

Hawkins (Voyage), 137

Hazlitt, 121

Heathen, 197

heavens, 41, 75, 145, 182

Hector, 130

Heinault (see Henolt), 165, 166, 171

Helen, 107, 150

Henie, 135

Hennegew, sir John of, 174

Henolt, John of, 61, 62, 63, 66, 67,

69

Henry II, the reign of, Ixviii
Henry IV, 140, 191
Henry IV (play), in, 140, 152
Harry Monmouth (see Henry V), Ix
Henry V, xlviii, Ixvii, Ixxii
Henry V (play), Hi, Ixxi, Ixxxiii, xc
Heinrich V, Die Sage von (Kabel),

Ixxx
ist Henry VI (play), xv, xvii, lii, xc,

xci, xciv, c, cix, 140, 156, 195
2nd Henry VI, 120, 124, 131, 140,

142, 145, 179, 2OO, 2OI

$rd Henry VI, liii, 143, 159, 171, 182,

194, 199. 200

Henry VII, xx, xlvii, xcvi
Henry VIII, Ixxiii
Henry VIII (play), Ivi, cxxi, 131
Henslowe, xiii

Henslowe's Diary, (note) cxxii, 133
Hephaestion, 131
Herald, 55
Hercules, 12, 29, 112
Hereford (Bishop of), cii, 73, 76,

77, in, 115, 187, 192
Hereford (earle of). See Bishop
Hereford (town), 173, 175, 176
Hero, 104, 105, 126
Hero and Leander, 127, 135, 168,

192
Herrick, Hesperides, 187

Heywood, xii, xx, xxi, liii, Iv, Ixvi,
Ixix, cxxi, 125, 126

— Royal King and Loyal Subject,
Ixviii, cxxii

— Apology, cxxv

— Challenge for Beauty, cxxiii

— Four Ages, xxxii

— // you know not me, you know
Nobody, xlv, lii

Hickscorner, 121

Higgins, Mirror for Magistrates,
(note) Ixvi

Hilas, 12, 29, 112

History, xii, xiii, xiv, xv, xxxvii,
xxxviii, Ixviii

Historical dramas, xxii, xxxv,
xcvii

Historical spirit, c, ci

Hobs, tanner of Tamworth, xix

hoie, 44

Hok Tuesday Play, xl, xii

Holinshed, xlvi, Ix, Ixi, Ixxi, (note)
Ixxv, xcvii, xcviii, cii, ciii, cvi,
cix, cxxiii, 101, no, in, 114,
115, 119, 124, 129, 130, 134, 141,
142, 144, 145-148, 153. 157. !59.
160, 163, 164, 166, 168, 170, 172,
173. 175. 176, 179, 180, 187, 188,

190, 192, 196, 197, 198, 202, 203,

204

Hookes, welch, 71, 177
Horatian principle of " decorum," x
hospitals, 8, 107
Hotspur, cvii, in, 131
Huntingdon (see Robert, Earl of

Huntington), xx
Hylas. See Hilas.
Hymen, 22

Imbrotherie, 28
Inthronized, 77, 184
Iris, 28, 130
Irish Knight, xl

214

INDEX

Isabella (wife of Edward I), cii

Isabel (Isabell, Isabella, sometimes
only Queene), 15, 16, 21, 22, 24,
25, 26, 27, 28, 33, 34, 35, 36, 40,
43, 44, 52, 53, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63,
64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 71, 74, 77, 78,
79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 87, 88, 89, 91,
94. 95. 96, 119, 125, 129, 181, 182

Italian maskes, 9, 107

Iter Boreale, liv

James I, Ixxxi

James IV of Scotland, Ixviii, (note)

Ixxxvii, 119
James IV, A Scottish History,

Greene's play, Ixviii, 106, 118, 162
James, a servant, 49, 50, 153
Jeronimo, 176
Jew of Malta, xciii, xciv, 103, no,

121, 128, 129, 140, 148, 188, 194,

201

Joan of Arc, cix
Joane de Acres. See Acres
John, Ixxxv, Ixxxvi
John of France, King, Ixx
Jonson, x, xxviii, Ixi, 177, 195
Jonson's Catiline, xcvi

— Every Man in His Humour, cxxiv

— Sejanus, (note) Ixxi, xcvi

— Silent Woman, 122

Joue, or Jove, 23, 59, 78, 94, 138,

1 86, 187, 202
Julius Caesar, 128, 175
Juno, 23, 26

K

Kabel, Sage von Heinrich V, xxxix,

(note) Ixxx
Keller, no, 112, 119, 120, 121, 122,

128

Keltic, 125
Kemp's Merriments of the Men of

Gotham, lix

Kempe, 186

Kenil worth. See Killing worth

Kent, John a, and John a Cumber,
Ixviii

Kent, Earl of (or Earle of), (see also
Edmund), cii, 9, 12, 13, 16, 21,
35, 36, 37. 4°. 42, 60, 61, 62, 64,
65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 80, 81, 82, 83,
84, 85, 88, 89, 109, 137, 138, 144,
145, 171, 173, 184, 189, 192, 198,
199

Kernes, Irish, 38, 141

Killingworth, 72, 73, 79, 80, 83, 84,
88, 175, 178, 179, 180, 185, 191,

2OI

King (of France), 52, 60, 61, 164,

165, 166
King John, Iviii

King John and Matilda (play), cxxi
King John (play), cxxi, 131
Kingsley's Saint's Tragedy, 193
Knight of the Burning Pestle, cxxiv,

cxxviii

Knaresborough, 142
Knolles* History of the Turks,

xcv
Kyd, Ixxxvii, 155, 162

— Householder's Philosophy, 125,
144

— Soliman and Perseda, 128, 132,
176, 177, 191

Kopplow, (note) Ixxxii

Kynge Johan (play), xxxix, xliv

Laboratory (Browning), 194

Lacie, earle of, 115

Lady, niece to King Edward, 32, 33,

4°, 4i, 43
Laertes, 127
Lake, 199 j
Lamb, 200
Lambeth, 16, 17

INDEX

215

Lancaster, Thomas, earle of, lxii,xcii,
ciii, civ, cvi, 9, 10, 14, 15, 16, 17,
18, 19, 20, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28,

29, 33> 34, 35, 36, 37, 3», 39, 41,
42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 53, 54,
S6, 57, 58, 62, no, ii2, 119, 122,
138, 141, 145, 146, 160, 162, 163,
1 80

Laneham's Letter, 108

Langron (Walter de), 114

Lavisse-Rambaud, cxv

Leadburie, 175

Leaf, Thomas (in Hardy's novel), ix

Leander, 104, 105, 126

Lear, or Leir, the Most Famous
Chronicle History of, xiv, xv,
xvi, xvii, xxii, Ixiii, 132, 193

Lee, Sidney, xii

— Vernon, 176, 177, 194, 205
Legge, Dr., cxvi, 186

Legge's Richardus Tertius (see
Richardus Tertius), (note) Ixxxiv

Leicester, Henrie earle of (see Lan-
caster), 71, 73, 75, 76, 78, 175,
180, 185

— earledome of, 163
Leland, Ixi

Letters of Petrarch, 181

Levune, 52, 53, 59, 64, 157, 164, 166

Liese, 114

Lightborn, or Lightborne, 86, 87,

193, 194, 199, 200
Lincolne, earle of (see Lancaster),

also spelt Lincoln, no, 146, 163,

179

— bishop of, 1 80
Lion, 84, 144

Lisle, the lord Warren de, 170

Livy, 136

Locrine, play, xxxii, Ixiv, Ixvii,

Ixxvi, Ixxvii, Ixxxi, Ixxxvii,

(note) Ixxxvii, 121, 125
Lodge, cxxv, 117

— (and Greene), 184

Lodge's Play of Plays, xxxvii
London, 198

Longshanks, (note) Ixxxviii, 67, 155
Look About You (play), Ixviii, cxxi,

(note) cxxii
Looking - Glass for London (see

Greene), 149, 184
Lounsbury's Shakespearean Wars,

xxi

Love's Labour's Lost, cxi
Lucan, 161, 171
Lucifer, 193
Lucian (Dialogues), 150
Lucrece, 182
Luick, Ixxxiv, 103
Lust's Dominion, 204
Lydgate, 126
Lyly, (note) Ixxv, 101, 144, 145, 149,

155, 162, 175, 190

M

Macbeth, xvi, 155

Machiavelli, ci, (note) xcv, 195, 202

McLaughlin, Professor, cviii, 109,

121, 133, 136, 153, 154, 166, 177,

1 80, 1 88, 191
Madden, xli
Maid's Tragedy, cxxv
Maitland (History of London], 120
malgrado, 45, 150
Malone, 191

— (Ancient British Drama), Ixxi
Malory, xlvii

Mamillia (Green's), 125
Man, I. of, 35

— lord of, 14, 113
Mandit, sir Thomas, 170
Manly, xxiv, xxv

Marcels (Marcyle, king of Marcyle),

xxvii, 202
March (Roger Mortimer, earl of),

(see Mortimer), 196
Margaret, c

216

INDEX

Marlowe, xxxix, Ixxvi, (note) Ixxxii,
(note) Ixxxiii, Ixxxvii, (note) xc,
xcii, xciv, c, ci, cii, ciii, civ, cv,
cvi, cvii, cviii, cix, cxii, cxiii,
cxiv, cxv, cxvii, cxxiii, 101, 103,

106, 107, 108, 109, no, in, H2,

114, 117, Iig, I2O, 121, 122, 123,

124, 125, 126, 128, 129, 130, 133,

134. 135, 137, 139, 140. 141. 142,
144, 148, 149, 151, 152, 154, 157,

159, 160, 161, 163, 164, 170, 177,
178, 179, 180, 182, 183, 184, 187,

191, 193, 194, 198, 200, 202

Marlowe's Edward II, Ix

Marshall, 128

Mary Magdalen (play), xxviii, xxx,

xxxii

Mary (execution of), xlix
Massacre at Paris (play), 103, 104,

no, 117, 122, 136, 139, 140
Matrevers, or Matrevis, or Matreuis,

80, 81, 83, 84, 85, 86, 89, 90, 91,

93
Mayor (Chapters on English metre),

107, 1 14

Mayor of Queenborough (Quin-
borough), (Middleton) Ixiv, cxxiv

Measure for Measure, 145, 167

Medea, 181

Menippus, 50

Merchant of Venice, 114, 143

Mercuric, 28, 130

Meres, xlvii

Meriasek, St. (Cornish play), xxviii

Merry Knack to Know a Knave, lix,
Ixiv

Metamorphoses, 126, 184, 186, 196

Meyer, 195

Midas, 30, 132

Middleton (see Mayor of Q.), cii

Midsummer Night's Dream, 193

miracle cycle, xxxiii

Mirror for Magistrates (Higgins),
(note) Ixvi

Misfortunes" of Arthur"[(plB.y) , Ixxvi,
Ixxvii

monks, 70

Montacute,[the lord William,"2O3

Mountf ort, Signor, Ixxxviii

Montfort, sir Henrie, 170

Moore Smith (editor Edward III), li

moouede, 36, 139

moralities, xxxiii

More, Sir Thomas (play), xxviii,
xxxii, Ivi, cxix, cxx, cxxi

Morley's English Writers, xlvi

Mort dieu, 10, no

Mortimer (Roger, earle of March),
the lord Roger or Geffrey, called
also Mortimer Filius, and Young
Mortimer, Ixxxviii, xci, cii, cvi,
cvii, cviii, 7, 9, 10, n, 16, 18, 20,
22, 23, 24, 26, 27, 28, 33, 34, 35,
36, 37. 38. 39, 4°, 42, 43. 44. 45.
47, 48, 50, 52, 53, 54. 55, 5$, 57.
58, 60, 63, 64, 65, 67, 68, 69, 70,
71, 72, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80.
81, 82, 83, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 93,
94, 95, 109. 124, 127, 129, 133,
141, 144, 163, 164, 165, 168, 170,
171, 173, 184, 185, 190, 195, 196,
199, 202, 203, 204

Mortimer [Elder], called also Morti-
mer Senior, 9, 24, 25, 26, 28, 109,
129, 131, 132, 138, 144

Mortimers (the two), civ, 12, 14, 15,
17, 19, 29, 3°

Mowberie (Mowbray), n, no, iir

Mower, A., 71

Much Ado about Nothing, 171

Munday (Downfall . and Death" of
Robert Earl of Huntington) , Ixix

Murray, 153

murtherer, 25, 193

Musaeus, 105

mushrump, 26, 128

Mycetes, 176

INDEX

217

N

Napoleon, cxv
Nash, 185
Nashe, xv, liii

— Anatomy of Absurdity, Ixix

— Pierce Penilesse, (note) Ixxx
Neander, x

Neath, abbey of, 175

Nelle, 119, 126, 128, 129, 179

Nevill, the lord John, of Hornbie,

203
New Way to Pay Old Debts (play),

194

Newcastell, 37, 146
Nobiles, 17, 20, 39
nobles, 23

No more but so, 80, 188
Norfolke (duke of), 204
Normandie, 33, 52, 157
Nottingham (castle of), 203
Noun as adjective, 127
Nova Legenda Anglia, xlvii

Octavis (Octavius), 29, 131

Oldcastle, Sir John, xiv, xxviii, Ixxi,
Ixxiii, cxx

Old Fortunatus, xviii

Oneyle (O'Neill), 38, 142

O'Neill, Turlough, 142

Ordish, Folk-Lore, xl

Origo Mundi, xxviii

Orlando Furioso, 121, 185

Orleton, Robert, Bishop of Here-
ford (see Hereford), cii

Otterbourne, Battle of (Child), 1

Oxberry, 144

Oxenford, 173

Oxford (earl of), 127

Ovid, 126, 1 80, 184, 1 86, 196

— Elegies, 126, 132, 149, 184

— Metamorphoses. See Metamor-
phoses

Pagan, 186

Page, John, 170

Paine, Tom, 135

Painter's Palace of Pleasure, xxvi

pale, the English, 142

Pammachius, xxix

Paston, Sir John, xlvi

Patroclus, 29, 130

Peele, xiv, (note) Ixix, (note) Ixxxi,
Ixxxvii, Ixxxviii, civ, cxxiii, 101,
114, 121, 162, 177, 178, 180, 184,
186, 201, 202

Penbrooke, earle of, also written
Penbroke and Pembroke, 17, 23,
24, 25, 26, 28, 33, 35, 36, 37, 42,
48, 49, 53, 54, 56, 58, no, 115,
128, 139, 146, 152, 153

Percy, Lord, n

Percies, 191

Percy Society, Crown Garland, 1

Perret, Story of King Lear, 132, 193

Petrarch's Letters, xcv, 181

Phaeton, 122

Pharsalia, 171

Philadelphus (Richard Harvey), Ixi

Philaster, cxxv

Philip Le Beau, lii

Phoebus, 65, 171, 184

Pilgrimage to Parnassus, 117

Plato, 70

Play of Plays (see Lodge), cxxv

Plinie, 34, 137

plot, xxii, xxiv

Pluto, 178

Plutos, 72

Poast, 36, 37, 140, 185

Poidras, cii

Poitiers (battle of), Ixxi, cxvii

Polyolbion, Ixi

Pope, the, 15, 19, 123, 164

Porpintine, 8, 107

Porter (and Chettle), 133

Pomfret, 191, 202

218

INDEX

Preston's Cambyses, xxxiv

Prince (see Edward III), 191

Probst, 193

Proserpina, 186

Proteus, 30, 132

Prynne, Histriomastix, xxxvii, cxxv

Pseudodoxia, 127

Ptolome, xxxvi

Purgatorio. See Dante

Pyeboard, George, Ixxxviii

Q

Queen, or Queene. See Isabella
Queen Anne, 125
quibbling, 129
quenchless, 131, 182
Queenborough, or Quinborough.
See Mayor of Q.

R

Ragged, 54, 164

Raleigh, cxxvii

Ralph Roister Doister, 193

rakt up in embers, 106

Reading, Simon de, 176

Reding, Simon (see above), 134

Reed, 141, 179

Refutation of Apology for Actors by

I. C., cxxv

Religious Drama, xxiii
Renowned, 46, 151
Revenger's Tragedy, Tourneur's, 162
Reynolds, Some Principles, 133
— Modern Phil., 161
Rice ap Howell, 68, 69, 71, 72, 174,

175

Richmond, liv, (note) Ixxxiv, cxii
Respublica, xxxiv, xliv
Richard I, (note) Ixix, Ixxxv
Richard II (play), liii, Ixiii, cxv, 113,

117, 120, 121, 122, 124, 125, 128,

155, 180, 182, 183, 185, 191, 192,

200, 202, 205

Richard Crookback (see Richard

III), Ix
Richard III, xx, liv, Iviii, Ixxii,

cxiii, cxvi, 155, 185, 194, 195
Richard III, xx, lii, liv, Iviii, Ixxii,

cxii, cxiii, cxiv, cxv, cxvi, 200,201
Richardus Tertius, xli, xlii, Ixxvi,

bcxvii, cxvi, 1 86
Riche, Barnaby, Description of

Ireland, 141

Robin Hood, Ixix, Ixxii, Ixxxviii
Robin Hood Plays, xl
Robert, Earl of Huntington, (see

Huntington), cxx
Robert of Sicily, King, xxxiii
Rolfe, 191

Romeo and Juliet, 171
Roper's Life of Sir Thomas More,

cxviii

Rose of England, 1
rombelow, 39
Rome, 20
Royal King and Loyal Subject (Hey-

wood's), cxxii

Salisbury, Countess of, cxviii, 144

— Earldom of, 163
Sander, 184
Satiromastix, Ixiii
Satyrs, 9

Saxon Chronicle, xlv

Sarrazin, William Shakespeare's

Lehrjahre, xlii

Scarborough, 43, 44, 146, 150
Schau, 109, 145, 152, 169
Schelling, xxx, xxxix, Ixxvi, Ixxx,

(note) xc, cviii, (note) cxxi

— Chronicle Play, xxxix, xl, xli

— Elizabethan Drama, xxviii, (note)
xxxix, Ix, c

— Elizabethan Lyrics, 128
Schiller, (note) cix

INDEX

219

Schipper, 107

Schmidt, 175

Schnapparelle, 122

Schoeneich, 122, 134, 151, 158,

159, 171

Schofield, English Literature, xlvii
Schiicking, Studien uber die stoff-

lichen Beziehungen der englischen

Komodie zur Italienischen, xxxii
Schiitt, (note) Ixxxi
(Gray and Scroop), Ixxi
Scrope, Archbishop, 192
Scylla, 126

Secunda Pastorum, xxvi
Sejanus, xi, 177, 194, 195
Selden, Ixi
Seneca, Ixxvii
Seneca's Thyestes, 177, 194
Senecan derivatives, Ixxvi
serge facing, 31, 134
Serving Man's Comfort, 132
Severne, 186
Shakespeare, xvii, xviii, Iv, Ixxiii,

Ixxx, Ixxxvii, civ, cxiii, cxv, cxvi,

cxvii, 101, in, 112, 145, 182, 184,

200

— Henry V. See Henry V
Shakespeare's King John und Seine

Quellen, (note) Ixxxii
Shakespeare, King Lear (see Lear),

Ix, Ixiii
Shearmen and Taylors' Pageant and

Weavers' Pageant, xxviii
Shepherds' Play (second), xxvi, xxix
Shore, Jane, xix, Ixx, (note) Ixxxiv
Sib (see Isabella), 52
Sidney (Sir Philip), x, xxviii, xlii,

Ixxv, 127
Siluian (Silvian), 9
Shrewsbury, battle of, 191
Sigismond, 177
Skeat, xxv

Skipton in Craven, 142
Sluys, battle of, Ixxi

Soliman and Perseda, 112, 113, 128
Somerset, 141

Southwell's Scorn not the Least, 128
Smith, G. E. Moore (ed. Edward

II), (see Moore Smith), (note)

Ixx

Smith, Professor Gregory, xxii
Socrates, 29, 131
Spanish Tragedy, 121, 123, 124,

169, 179, 202
Sparkes, 105
Spencer (see Gloster), also spelt

Spenser, cv, 30, 32, 33, 40, 41,

43, 5°. 5i, 53. 54. 55, 5^, 57, 59,
63, 66, 67, 68, 70, 71, 72, 73, 84,
133, 134, 145, 147, 156, 157, 159,
160, 161, 164, 166, 172, 175, 176,
177, 179

Spencer pater, 56, 68, 84

Spencer, Hugh (see Spencer, above),

5i
Spensers (see above, and also De-

spenser), ciii, civ, 119
Spenser, Edmund, 135, 136, 144,

159

Spingarn's Seventeenth Century

Critical Essays, Ixi
spit, 90, 200

Stafford, the lord Rafe, 200
Stationers' Register, cxxviii
stay (at a), 184
Steevens' edition, Six Old Plays,

(note) Ixxxiii, 188
sterv'd (starved), 83, 192
Stow's Annals, Ixi, 130, 132, 138,

141, 142, 192, 202
Stowe, Summary, xlvii
Straw, Jack (play), Ixx, (note) Ixxxi,

cxxii

Strumbo, (note) Ixxxi
Stubbes, John, xlix
Stukely, History of Captain Thomas,

cxx
Suetonius, Tiberius, 187

220

INDEX

Suffolk, Duke of, xcviii
superlative, double, 128
Symmes, Les Debuts de la Critique
Dramatique en Angleterre, xxxvii

Tale of Troy (Peele's), 182
Tamburlaine, xxxii, Ixxxii, Ixxxiii,
Ixxxix, xcii, xciv, cxiv, cxv, cxvii,

103, 104, 105, 107, 117, 121, 122,

128, 130, 135, 144, 145, 149, 150,

I51. *55, 156, 168, 171, 173, 175,
176, 177, 179, 180, 183, 184, 186,

187, 190, 191, 200, 201, 202

Taming of the Shrew, 152, 171

Tanaise, 61, 168

Tancock, 106, in, 115, 120, 123,
126, 129, 130, 136, 137, 138, 140,
142, 148, 151, 153, 155, 180, 182,
186, 188, 192, 202, 204, 205

Tanner of Tamworth, Ixvii

tanti, 8, 105

Tarlton, Ixxx, Ixxxi

Teies, the lord Henrie, 170

Temple, Order of the, ci

Tennyson, Guinevere, 80

— Miller's Daughter, 169

— Passing of Arthur, 201
Terence, Phormio, 187
Tetzlaff, 199

Tewkesbury, battle of, xviii
then (only instance), 60
Thomas of Woodstock, liv
Thorndike, Tragedy, xxxix, xli
thousand ships, 150

Tiber, 20

Tiberius, Emperor, xxvii, 195

Tiborne (Tyburn), 204

Tiger's, 76, 77

timere, 85, 86, 189, 190, 192

Tinmouth, 34 ; spelt Tynmouth, 40,

-148
Tynmouth Castle, 136, 145, 149

Tisiphon (Tisiphone), 75, 182
Titus Andronicus, cxiv, 123, 140,

194

Torpedo, 24, 127
tottered (tattered), 42, 148
Tourneur, 162, 184
Tout, 155, 166
Teuton, Robert de, 198
Towneley Secunda Pastorum, xxiv
Tragedy, xii, xiii, xvii
Tragedy of the King of Scots, xli
Trivet, 155

Troilus and Cressida, 150
trope, xxiv
Troublesome Reign of Edward the

Second, xiv
Troublesome Raigne of King John,

Ixx, Ixxxii, Ixxxiv, Ixxxvi, Ixxxvii,

Ixxxviii, Ixxxix, 121
True Tragedy of Richard Duke of

York, The, xx, Ixx, Ixxxii, Ixxxiv,

xc, xciv, xcvi, xcix, c, cxxii,

171
True and Honorable History of the

Life of Sir John Oldcastle, xiv
Trumpington (or Torrington), Sir

Hugh, 203
Trussel, 76, 77, 179
Tuchet, the lord William, 170
Tullie, 29, 131

Two Gentlemen of Verona, cxiv, 117
Tylney, Sir Edward, (note) cxix
Tyler, Wat, Ixx, Ixxxi
Tzschaschel, Marlowe's Edward II

und Seine Quellen, ciii, 104, 130

U

Ufford, Robert, 203
Ulrici, 104
Unity, xxxi

— of personality, xxx

— of plot, xxi
unkynde, 66, 173

INDEX

221

Valence, Aimer de la, 120

Valoys (or Valoyes), (see King of

France), 39, 52, 61
Vergil, Polydore, xlvii
Verity, 112, 123, 140, 149, 159, 179,

181, 182, 1 88, 200, 202
Virgil, 181, 184, 1 86, 202
Vogt, 117, 1 68, 184
Voltaire, 135

W

Wagner, 154, 187

Wallace, Evolution of the English

Drama, xxxi
Wales, 19, 1 66

— prince of, 173, 174
Waller, Vindication, Ixi
Waltham (abbey of), 114
Warbeck, Perkin (play), Ixiii, cxxviii
Ward, xxxix, Ixix, 117, 137, 150,

151, 184

— English Dramatic Literature,
(note) xxxiii, Ixxxix, cviii

Warning for Fair Women, xi, Ixv

Warwick, or Guie, earle of Warwike,
or earle of Warwicke, 9, n, 14,
15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 23, 24, 25,
26, 29, 35. 36, 37, 42, 44. 45. 46,
47, 48, 49, 50. 53. 54. 56, 57. 58,
62, 115, 122, 140, 146, 147, 150,
151, 162, 163

Warwick's rebellion, xviii

Warwickshire, n

Watt (H. A.), xxxv, xli

Webster, Vittoria Corombona, 187

Welsh tradition, Ix, Ixi

When You See Me (play), cxxi

Whetstone, x

— Promus and Cassandra, 153
White, Dr., of Basingstoke, Ixi
Whitlock, Zootomia, xlvii, 126
Wiclif, 153

Wigmore, 39
Wilshire, n

— (earle of), Hugh Spencer, 51, 156
Winchester, 198, 199

— bishop of, xcviii, 5, 80, 179, 180,
187, 188

— my lord of (elder Spencer), 58,
156, 158, 162, 172, 173

William the Conqueror, Ixiv, Ixix

— Rufus, Ixiv

Willington, sir Henrie de, 170
wis, 159

witchcraft, 154

wolfe, 79

woolues, 75, 180, 187

Wolsey (Cardinal) (play), cxxi, cxix

Woodstock, Thomas of, cxii

Wrenne, 84

Wurt, 126

Xenocrate (or Zenocrate), 107, 183

York, xcvii, xcix
York, Duke of, xcviii, xcix
— House of, xcix
Yorkshire, 154

Zenocrate. See Xenocrate
Zootomia (Whitlock's), 126
Zouch, lord William de la, 175

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