The Works of Christopher Marlowe, Vol. 2 (of 3)Marlowe, Christopher
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The Works of Christopher Marlowe, Vol. 2 (of 3)
Marlowe, Christopher
English drama -- Early modern and Elizabethan, 1500-1600
_Kent._ I, lead me whither you will, even to my death,
Seeing that my brother cannot be released.
[_Exeunt._
SCENE IV.
_Enter_[322] YOUNG MORTIMER.
_Y. Mor._ The king must die, or Mortimer goes down.
The commons now begin to pity him.
Yet he that is the cause of Edward's death,
Is sure to pay for it when his son's of age;
And therefore will I do it cunningly.
This letter, written by a friend of ours,
Contains his death, yet bids them save his life. [_Reads._
_Edwardum occidere nolite timere bonum est
Fear not to kill the king 'tis good he die._
But read it thus, and that's another sense: 10
_Edwardum occidere nolite timere bonum est
Kill not the king 'tis good to fear the worst._
Unpointed as it is, thus shall it go,
That, being dead, if it chance to be found,
Matrevis and the rest may bear the blame,
And we be quit that caused it to be done.
Within this room is locked the messenger,
That shall convey it, and perform the rest:
And by a secret token that he bears,
Shall he be murdered when the deed is done.-- 20
Lightborn, come forth!
_Enter_ LIGHTBORN.
Art thou so resolute as thou wast?
_Light._ What else, my lord? and far more resolute.
_Y. Mor._ And hast thou cast how to accomplish it?
_Light._ I, I, and none shall know which way he died.
_Y. Mor._ But at his looks, Lightborn, thou wilt relent.
_Light._ Relent! ha, ha! I use much to relent.
_Y. Mor._ Well, do it bravely, and be secret.
_Light._ You shall not need to give instructions;
'Tis not the first time I have killed a man. 30
I learned in Naples how to poison flowers;
To strangle with a lawn thrust through[323] the throat;
To pierce the windpipe with the needle's point;
Or whilst one is asleep, to take a quill
And blow a little powder in his ears:
Or open his mouth and pour quicksilver down.
And yet I have a braver way than these.
_Y. Mor._ What's that?
_Light._ Nay, you shall pardon me; none shall know my tricks.
_Y. Mor._ I care not how it is, so it be not spied. 40
Deliver this to Gurney and Matrevis.
At every ten mile end thou hast a horse.
Take this, away, and never see me more.
_Light._ No!
_Y. Mor._ No;
Unless thou bring me news of Edward's death.
_Light._ That will I quickly do; farewell, my lord. [_Exit._
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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