Edward the First - Scene 18

[SCENE XVIII.]

Enter the Friar with a halter about his neck.

Friar. Come, my gentle Richard, my true servant, that in some storms have stood thy master; hang thee, I pray thee, lest I hang for thee; and down on thy marrowbones, like a foolish fellow that have gone far astray, and ask forgiveness of God and King Edward for playing the rake-hell and the rebel here in Wales. Ah, gentle Richard, many a hot breakfast have we been at together! and now since, like one of Mars his frozen knights, I must hang up my weapon upon this tree, and come per misericordiam to the mad potter Mortimer, wring thy hands, friar, and sing a pitiful farewell to thy pike-staff at parting.
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.