Edward II, King of England, 1284-1327 -- Drama; Great Britain -- History -- Edward II, 1307-1327 -- Drama; Historical drama
My mind's distemper'd, and my body's numb'd,
And whether I have limbs or no I know not.
O, would my blood dropp'd out from every vein,
As doth this water from my tatter'd robes!
Tell Isabel the queen, I look'd not thus,
When for her sake I ran at tilt in France,
And there unhors'd the Duke of Cleremont.
_Light._ O, speak no more, my lord! this breaks my heart.
Lie on this bed, and rest yourself a while.
_K. Edw._ These looks of thine can harbour naught but death;
I see my tragedy written in thy brows.
Yet stay a while; forbear thy bloody hand,
And let me see the stroke before it comes,
That even then when I shall lose my life,
My mind may be more steadfast on my God.
_Light._ What means your highness to mistrust me thus?
_K. Edw._ What mean'st thou to dissemble with me thus?
_Light._ These hands were never stain'd with innocent blood,
Nor shall they now be tainted with a king's.
_K. Edw._ Forgive my thought for having such a thought.
One jewel have I left; receive thou this: [_Gives jewel._
Still fear I, and I know not what's the cause,
But every joint shakes as I give it thee.
O, if thou harbour'st murder in thy heart,
Let this gift change thy mind, and save thy soul!
Know that I am a king: O, at that name
I feel a hell of grief! where is my crown?
Gone, gone! and do I [still] remain alive?
_Light._ You're overwatch'd, my lord: lie down and rest.
_K. Edw._ But that grief keeps me waking, I should sleep;
For not these ten days have these eye-lids clos'd.
Now, as I speak, they fall; and yet with fear
Open again. O, wherefore sitt'st thou here?
_Light._ If you mistrust me, I'll be gone, my lord.
_K. Edw._ No, no; for, if thou mean'st to murder me,
Thou wilt return again; and therefore stay. [_Sleeps._
_Light._ He sleeps.
_K. Edw._ [_waking_] O, let me not die yet! O, stay a while!
_Light._ How now, my lord!
_K. Edw._ Something still buzzeth in mine ears,
And tells me, if I sleep, I never wake:
This fear is that which makes me tremble thus;
And therefore tell me, wherefore art thou come?
_Light._ To rid thee of thy life.--Matrevis, come!
_Enter_ MATREVIS _and_ GURNEY.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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