“Call me not lord; away out of my sight!
Ah, pardon me: grief makes me lunatic!
Let not that Mortimer protect my son;
More safety is there in a tiger’s jaws,
Than his embracements. Bear this [handkerchief] to the queen,
Wet with my tears, and dried again with sighs;
If with the sight thereof she be not mov’d,
Return it back and dip it in my blood.
Commend me to my son, and bid him rule
Better than I. Yet how have I transgress’d,
Unless it be with too much clemency?”
- Edward II, Christopher Marlowe (via of-your-etcetera)