Lan. Learn then to rule us better, and the realm.

Mor. jun. What we have done, Our heart-blood shall maintain.

War. Think you that we can brook this up

start pride?

Edw. Anger and wrathful fury stops my speech. Arch. Why are you moved? be patient, my lord,

And see what we, your counsellors, have done. Mo jun. My lords, now let us all be resolute, And either have our wills, or lose our lives.

Edw. Meet you for this? proud over-daring peers!

Ere my sweet Gaveston shall part from me,
This isle shall 20 fleet upon the ocean,
And wander to the unfrequented Inde!

sort.

On your allegiance to the see of Rome, Subscribe, as we have done, to his exile.

The legate of the pope will be obeyed.-[Aside.
My lord, you shall be chancellor of the realm;
Thou, Lancaster, high admiral of our fleet;
Young Mortimer and his uncle shall be earls;
And you, lord Warwick, president of the North;
And thou of Wales. If this content you not,
Make several kingdoms of this monarchy,
And share it equally amongst you all;
So I may have some nook or corner left,
To frolic with my dearest Gaveston.

Arch. Nothing shall alter us--we are resolved.
Lan. Come, come, subscribe.

Mor. jun. Why should you love him,

Whom the world hates so?

I'll fire thy crazed buildings, and enforce
Thy papal towers to kiss the lowly ground!
With slaughtered priests may Tyber's channel
swell,

And banks rise higher with their sepulchres!
As for the peers, that back the clergy thus,
If I be king, not one of them shall five.

Enter GAVESTON.

Gave. My lord, I hear it whispered every-where,
That I am banished, and must fly the land.
Edw. 'Tis true, sweet Gaveston-Oh! were it,
were it false!

The legate of the pope will have it so,
And thou must hence, or I shall be deposed.
But I will reign to be revenged of them;
And therefore, sweet friend, take it patiently.
Live where thou wilt, I'll send thee gold enough;
And long thou shalt not stay, or, if thou do'st,
I'll come to thee; my love shall ne'er decline.

Gave. Is all my hope turned to this hell of grief?
Edw. Rend not my heart with thy too piercing

ston;

world.

Ah! none but rude and savage-minded men,
Would seek the ruin of my Gaveston;
You, that be noble born, should pity him.
War. You, that are princely born, should shake
him off;

For shame, subscribe! and let the loon depart.
Mor. sen. Urge him, my lord.

Arch. Are you content to banish him the realm?

The blessedness of Gaveston remains;
For no where else seeks he felicity.

Edw. And only this torments my wretched soul,
That, whether I will or no, thou must depart.
Be governor of Ireland in my stead,
And there abide till fortune call thee home.
Here take my picture, and let me wear thine.
O, might I keep thee here, as I do this,
Happy were I! but now most miserable!
Gave. 'Tis something to be pitied of a king.

Edw. Thou shalt not hence-I'll hide thee, Gaveston.

Gave. I shall be found, and then 'twill grieve

me more.

Edw. Kind words, and mutual talk, makes our grief greater:

Therefore, with dumb embracement, let us part-
Stay, Gaveston, I cannot leave thee thus.
Gave. For every look, my love drops down a

tear:

Seeing I must go, do not renew my sorrow.

Edw. The time is little that thou hast to stay, And therefore give me leave to look my fill: But come, sweet friend, I'll bear thee on thy way. Gave. The peers will frown.

Edw. I pass not for their auger-Come, let's go; O that we might as well return as go!

Enter EDMUND and Queen ISABEL.

Queen. Whither goes my lord?

Edw. Fawn not on me, French strumpet! get thee gone.

Queen. On whom but on my husband should I fawn?

Gave. On Mortimer! with whom, ungentle

Queen. Villain! 'tis thou that rob'st me of my lord.

Gave. Madam! 'tis you that robs me of my lord. Edw. Speak not unto her; let her droop and pine.

Queen. Wherein, my lord, have I deserved these
words?

Witness the tears that Isabella sheds,
Witness this heart, that, sighing for thee, breaks,
How dear my lord is to poor Isabel.

Edw. And witness heaven how dear thou art to
me!

There weep; for till my Gaveston be repealed, Assure thyself thou com'st not in my sight. [Exeunt EDWARD and GAVESTON. Queen. O miserable and distressed queen! Would, when I left sweet France, and was embarked,

That charming Circe, walking on the waves, Had changed my shape, or at the marriage-day The cup of Hymen had been full of poison,

Or with those arms that twined about my neck,
I had been stifled, and not lived to see
The king my lord thus to abandon me!
Like frantic Juno will I fill the earth
With ghastly murmur of my sighs and cries;
For never doated Jove on Ganymede
So much as he on cursed Gaveston.
But that will more exasperate his wrath:
I must intreat him, I must speak him fair,
And be a means to call home Gaveston:
And yet he'll ever doat on Gaveston;
And so am I for ever miserable.

Enter the Nobles.

Lan. Look where the sister of the king of
France

Sits wringing of her hands, and beats her breast!
War. The king, I fear, hath ill-treated her.
Pem. Hard is the heart that injures such a saint.
Mor. jun. I know 'tis 'long of Gaveston she
weeps.

Mor. sen. Why, he is gone.

Mor. jun. Madam, how fares your grace? Queen. Ah! Mortimer! now breaks the king's hate forth,

And he confesseth that he loves me not. Mor. jun. Cry quittance, madam, then, and love not him.

Queen. No, rather will I die a thousand deaths; And yet I love in vain-he'll ne'er love me.

Lan. Fear ye not, madam: now his minion's

I mean that vile torpedo, Gaveston,
That now, I hope, floats on the Irish seas.
Queen. Sweet Mortimer, sit down by me a while,
And I will tell thee reasons of such weight,
As thou wilt soon subscribe to his repeal.

Mor. jun. It is impossible; but speak your
mind.

Queen. Then thus; but none shall hear it but ourselves.

Lan. My lords, albeit the queen win Mortimer, Will you be resolute, and hold with me?

Mor. sen. Not I, against my nephew.

Pem. Fear not, the queen's words cannot alter
him.

War. No? do but mark how earnestly she pleads.
Lan. And see how coldly his looks make denial.
War. She smiles; now for my life his mind is
changed.

Lan. I'll rather lose his friendship I, than grant.
Mor. jun. Well, of necessity it must be so.-
My lords, that I abhor base Gaveston,
I hope your honours make no question;
And therefore, though I plead for his repeal,
'Tis not for his sake, but for our avail:
Nay, for the realms behoof, and for the king's.
Lan. Fie, Mortimer, dishonour not thyself;
Can this be true, 'twas good to banish him?
And is this true, to call him home again?
Such reasons make white black, and dark night day.
Mor. jun. My lord of Lancaster, mark the re-
spect.

Lan. In no respect can contraries be true. Queen. Yet, good my lord, hear what he can alledge.

War. All that he speaks is nothing, we are resolved.

Mor. jun. Do you not wish that Gaveston were dead?

Pem. I would he were.

Mor. jun. Why then, my lord, give me but leave to speak.

Mor.sen. But, nephew, do not play the sophister. Mor. jun. This which I urge is of a burning zeal, To mend the king, and do our country good. Know you not Gaveston hath store of gold, Which may in Ireland purchase him such friends, As he will front the mightiest of us all? And whereas he shall live and be beloved, 'Tis hard for us to work his overthrow.

War. Mark you but that, my lord of Lancaster. Mor. jun. But were he here detested as he is, How easily might some base slave be suborned, To greet his lordship with a poynard,

And none so much as blame the murderer,
But rather praise him for that brave attempt,
And in the chronicle enrol his name,
For purging of the realm of such a plague?
Pem. He saith true.

Lan. Ay, but how chance this was not done be
fore?

Mor. jun. Because, my lords, it was not thought

To banish him, and then to call him home;
'Twill make him vail the top-flag of his pride,
And fear to offend the meanest nobleman.

Mor, sen. But how if he do not, nephew?
Mor. jun. Then may we with some colour rise
in arms:

For, howsoever we have borne it out,
'Tis treason to be up against the king;
So shall we have the people on our side,
Which for his father's sake lean to the king,
But cannot brook a night-grown mushrump,
Such a one as my lord of Cornwal is,
Should bear us down of the nobility.
And when the commons and the nobles join,
'Tis not the king can buckler Gaveston,
We'll pull him from the strongest hold he hath.
My lords, if to perform this I be slack,
Think me as base a groom as Gaveston.

Lan. On that condition, Lancaster will grant.
War. And so will Pembroke and I.
Mor. sen. And I.

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

Queen. And when this favour Isabel forgets, Then let her live abandoned and forlorn. But see in happy time, my lord the king, Having brought the Earl of Cornwal on his way, Is new returned. This news will glad him much; Yet not so much as me; I love bin more Than he can Gaveston. Would he loved me But half so much! then were I treble blessed.

Enter King EDWARD, mourning.

Edw. He's gone, and for his absence thus I

mourn.

Did never sorrow go so near my heart,
As doth the want of my sweet Gaveston!
And could my crown's revenue bring him back,
I would freely give it to his enemies,
And think I gained, having bought so dear a friend.
Queen. Hark! how he harps upon his minion.

Edw. My heart is as an anvil unto sorrow,
Which beats upon it like the Cyclops hammers,
And with the noise turns up my giddy brain,
And makes me frantic for my Gaveston.
Ah! had some bloodless fury rose from hell,
And with my kingly sceptre struck me dead,
When I was forced to leave my Gaveston!

Lan. Diablo, what passions call you these? Queen. My gracious lord, I come to bring you

With base outlandish 24 cullions at his heels,
Whose proud fantastic liveries make such show,
As if that Proteus, god of shapes, appeared.
I have not seen a dapper jack so brisk;
He wears a short Italian hooded-cloak,
Larded with pearl, and, in his Tuscan cap,
A jewel of more value than the crown.
While others walk below, the king and he,
From out a window, laugh at such as we,
And flout our train, and jet at our attire.
Uncle, 'tis this that makes me impatient.
Mor. sen. But, nephew, now you see the king is
changed.

Mor. jun. Then so am I, and live to do him

service;

But whilst I have a sword, a band, a heart, I will not yield to any such upstart.

You know my mind: come, uncle, let's away.

[Exeunt.

Enter SPENCER and BALDOCK.
Bal. Spencer, seeing that our lord the earl of
Glou'ster's dead,

Which of the nobles dost thou mean to serve?

Spen. Not Mortimer, nor any of his side; Because the king and he are enemies. Baldock, learn this of me; a factious lord Shall hardly do himself good, much less us; But he that hath the favour of a king May with one word advance us while we live: The liberal earl of Cornwal is the man, On whose good fortune Spencer's hope depends. Bal. What! mean you then to be his follower? Spen. No, his companion; for he loves me well, And would have once preferred me to the king. Bul. But he is banished, there's small hope of him. Spen. Ay, for a while: but, Baldock, mark the end. A friend of mine told me in secresy, That he's repealed, and sent for back again; And even now a post came from the court With letters to our lady from the king; And as she read she smiled, which makes me think It is about her lover Gaveston.

Bal. 'Tis like enough; for since he was exiled, She neither walks abroad, nor comes in sight. But I had thought the match had been broke off, And that his banishment had changed her mind. Spen. Our lady's first love is not wavering: My life for thine, she will have Gaveston.

Bal. Then hope I by her means to be preferred, Having read unto her since she was a child. Spen. Then, Baldock, you must cast the scholar off,

And learn to court it like a gentleman.

'Tis not a black coat and a little band,
A velvet-cap'd cloak, faced before with serge,
And smelling to a nosegay all the day,
Or holding of a napkin in your band,
Or saying a long grace at a table's end,
25 Or making low legs to a nobleman,
Or looking downward with your eye-lids close,
And saying, "Truly, an't may please your honour,"
Can get you any favour with great men :
You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute,
And now and then stab, as occasion serves.

Bal. Spencer, thou know'st I hate such formal toys,

And use them but of mere hypocrisy.
Mine old lord, while he lived, was so precise,
That he would take exceptions at my buttons,
And, being like pins' heads, blame me for the big-

ness;

Which made me curate-like in mine attire,
Though inwardly licentious enough,
And apt for any kind of villainy.

26 I am none of these common pedants, I,
That cannot speak without propterea quod.
Spen. But one of those that saith, quandoqui-
dem,

And hath a special gift to form a verb.
Bal. Leave off this jesting, here my lady comes.
Enter the LADY.

Lady. The grief for his exile was not so much,
As is the joy of his returning home.
This letter came from my sweet Gaveston;
What need'st thou, love, thus to excuse thyself?
I know thou could'st not come and visit me:

[Reads.

I will not long be from thee though I dic.
This argues the entire love of my lord: [Reads.
When I forsake thee, death seize on my heart.
But stay thee here where Gaveston shall sleep.-
Now to the letter of my lord the king.
He wills me to repair unto the court,
And meet my Gaveston: why do I stay,
Seeing that he talks thus of my marriage-day?
Who's there, Baldock ?

See that my coach be ready, I must hence.
Bal. It shall be done, madam.
[Exit.
Lady. And meet me at the Park-pail presently.—
Spencer, stay you and bear me company,
For I have joyful news to tell thee of;
My lord of Cornwall is a coming over,
And will be at the court as soon as we.

Spen. I knew the king would have him home again.

Lady. If all things 27 sort out, as I hope they will,