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Act One, Scene Four

Enter Nobiles [: Lancaster, Warwicke, Penbrooke, Mortimer senior, Mortimer junior, the Archbishop of Canterburie, attended].

Lancaster
Here is the forme of Gavestons exile:
May it please your lordship to subscribe your name.

Bishop
Give me the paper.

Lancaster
Quick quick my lorde, I long to write my name.

Warwicke
But I long more to see him banisht hence.

Mortimer
The name of Mortimer shall fright the king,
Unlesse he be declinde from that base pesant.
Enter the King and Gaveston [and Kent].

Edward
What? are you mov'd that Gaveston sits heere?
It is our pleasure,
we will have it so.

Lancaster
Your grace doth wel to place him by your side,
For no where else the new earle is so safe.

Mortimer senior
What man of noble birth can brooke this sight?
Quam male conveniunt:
See what a scornfull looke the pesant casts.

Penbrooke
Can kinglie Lions fawne on creeping Ants?

Warwicke
Ignoble vassaile that like Phaeton,
Aspir'st unto the guidance of the sunne.

Mortimer
Their downfall is at hand, their forces downe,
We will not thus be facst and overpeerd.

Edward
Lay hands on that traitor Mortimer.

Mortimer senior
Lay hands on that traitor Gaveston.
[Seize him.]

Kent
Is this the dutie that you owe your king?

Warwicke
We know our duties, let him know his peeres.

Edward
whether whither will you beare him, stay or ye shall die.

Mortimer senior
We are no traitors, therefore threaten not.

Gaveston
No, threaten not my lord, but pay them home.
Were I a king---

Mortimer
Thou villaine, wherfore talkes thou of a king,
That hardly art a gentleman by birth?

Edward
Were he a peasant
, being my minion,
Ile make the prowdest of you stoope to him.

Lancaster
My lord, you may not thus disparage us,
Away I say with hatefull Gaveston.

Mortimer senior
And with the earle of Kent that favors him.
[Exeunt Kent and Gaveston guarded.]

Edward
Nay, then lay violent hands upon your king,
Here Mortimer, sit thou in Edwards throne,
Warwicke and Lancaster, weare you my crowne,
Was ever king thus over rulde as I?

Lancaster
Learne then to rule us better and the realme.

Mortimer
What we have
done, our hart bloud shall maintaine.

Warwicke
Think you that we can brooke this upstart pride?

Edward
Anger and wrathfull furie stops my speech.

Bishop
Why are you moov'd, be patient my lord,
And see what we your councellers have done.

Mortimer
My lords, now let us all be resolute,
And either have our wils, or lose our lives.

Edward
Meete you for this, proud
overdaring peeres?
Ere my sweete Gaveston shall part from me,
This Ile shall fleete upon the Ocean,
And wander to the unfrequented Inde.

Bishop
You know that I am legate to the Pope,
On your allegeance to the sea of Rome,
Subscribe as we have done to his exile.

Mortimer
Curse him, if he refuse, and then may we
Depose him and elect an other king.

Edward
I there it goes, but yet I will not yeeld,
Curse me, depose me, doe the worst you can.

Lancaster
Then linger not my lord but do it straight.

Bishop
Remember how the Bishop was abusde,
Either banish him that was the cause thereof,
Or I will presentlie discharge these
lords,
Of dutie and allegeance due to thee.

Edward
It bootes me not to threat, I must speake faire,
The Legate of the Pope will be obayd:
My lord, you shalbe Chauncellor of the realme,
Thou Lancaster, high admirall of our fleete,
Yong Mortimer and his unckle shalbe earles,
And you lord Warwick, president of the North,
And thou of Wales: if this content you not,
Make severall kingdomes of this monarchie,
And share it equally amongst you all,
So I may have some nooke or corner left,
To frolike with my deerest Gaveston.

Bishop
Nothing shall alter us, wee are resolv'd.

Lancaster
Come, come, subscribe.

Mortimer
Why should you love him,
whome the world hates so?

Edward
Because he loves me more then all the world:
Ah none but rude and savage minded men,
Would seeke the ruine of my Gaveston,
You that be noble borne should pitie him.

Warwicke
You that are princely borne should shake him off,
For shame subscribe, and let the lowne depart.

Mortimer senior
Urge him, my lord.

Bishop
Are you content to banish him the realme?

Edward
I see I must, and therefore am content.
In steede of inke, ile write it with my teares.

Mortimer
The king is love-sick for his minion.

Edward
Tis done, and now accursed hand fall off.

Lancaster
Give it me, ile have it published in the streetes.

Mortimer
Ile see him presently dispatched away.

Bishop
Now is my heart at ease.

Warwicke
And so is mine.

Penbrooke
This will be good newes to the common sort.

Mortimer senior
Be it or no, he shall not linger here.
Exeunt Nobiles.

Edward
How fast they run to banish him I love,
They would not stir, were it to do me good:
Why should a king be subject to a priest?
Proud Rome, that hatchest such imperiall groomes,
For these thy superstitious taperlights,
Wherewith thy antichristian churches blaze,
Ile fire thy crased buildings, and enforce
The papall towers, to kisse the lowlie ground,
With slaughtered priests make Tibers channell swell,
And bankes raisd higher with their sepulchers:
As for the peeres that backe the cleargie thus,
If I be king, not one of them shall live.
Enter Gaveston.

Gaveston
My lord I heare it whispered every where,
That I am banishd, and must flie the land.

Edward
Tis true sweete Gaveston, oh were it false.
The Legate of the Pope will have it so,
And thou must hence, or I shall be deposd,
But I will raigne to be reveng'd of them,
And therefore sweete friend, take it patiently,
Live where thou wilt, ile send thee gould enough,
And long thou shalt not stay, or if thou doost,
Ile come to thee, my love shall neare decline.

Gaveston
Is all my hope turnd to this hell of greefe.

Edward
Rend not my hart with thy too piercing words,
Thou from this land, I from my selfe am banisht.

Gaveston
To go from hence, greeves not poore Gaveston,
But to forsake you, in whose gratious lookes
The blessednes of Gaveston remaines,
For no where else seekes he felicitie.

Edward
And onely this torments my wretched soule,
That whether I will or no thou must depart:
Be governour of Ireland in my stead,
And there abide till fortune call thee home.
Here take my picture, and let me weare thine,
O might I keepe thee heere, as I doe this,
Happie were I, but now most miserable.

Gaveston
Tis something to be pitied of a king.

Edward
Thou shalt not hence, ile hide thee Gaveston.

Gaveston
I shal be found, and then twil greeve me more.

Edward
Kinde wordes, and mutuall talke, makes our greefe greater,
Therefore with dum imbracement let us part.
Stay Gaveston, I cannot leave thee thus.

Gaveston
For every looke, my lord, drops downe a teare,
Seeing I must go, do not renew my sorrow.

Edward
The time is little that thou hast to stay,
And therefore give me leave to looke my fill,
But come sweete friend, ile beare thee on thy way.

Gaveston
The peeres will frowne.

Edward
I passe not for their anger, come lets go,
O that we might as well returne as goe.
Enter Queen Isabell.

Queene
whether goes my lord?

Edward
Fawne not on me French strumpet, get thee gone.

Queene
On whom but on my husband should I fawne?

Gaveston
On Mortimer, with whom ungentle Queen
I say no more, judge you the rest my lord.

Queene
In saying this, thou wrongst me Gaveston,
Ist not enough, that thou corrupts my lord,
And art a bawd to his affections,
But thou must call mine honor thus in question?

Gaveston
I meane not so, your grace must pardon me.

Edward
Thou art too familiar with that Mortimer,
And by thy meanes is Gaveston exilde.
But I would wish thee reconcile the lords,
Or thou shalt nere be reconcild to me.

Queene
Your highnes knowes, it lies not in my power.

Edward
Away then, touch me not, come Gaveston.

Queene
Villaine, tis thou that robst me of my lord.

Gaveston
Madam, tis you that rob me of my lord.

Edward
Speake not unto her, let her droope and pine.

Queene
Wherein my lord, have I deservd these words?
Witnesse the teares that Isabella sheds,
Witnesse this hart, that sighing for thee breakes,
How deare my lord is to poore Isabell.

Edward
And witnesse heaven how deere thou art to me.
There weepe, for till my Gaveston be repeald,
Assure thy selfe thou comst not in my sight.
Exeunt Edward and Gaveston.

Queene
O miserable and distressed Queene!
Would when I left sweet France and was imbarkt,
That charming Circes walking on the waves,
Had chaungd my shape, or at the mariage day
The cup of Hymen had beene full of poyson,
Or with those armes that twind about my neck,
I had beene stifled, and not lived to see,
The king my lord thus to abandon me:
Like frantick Juno will I fill the earth,
With gastlie murmure of my sighes and cries,
For never doted Jove on Ganimed,
So much as he on cursed Gaveston.
But that will more exasperate his wrath,
I must entreat him, I must speake him faire,
And be a meanes to call home Gaveston:
And yet heele ever dote on Gaveston,
And so am I for ever miserable.
Enter the Nobles to the Queene.

Lancaster
Looke where the sister of the king of Fraunce,
Sits wringing of her hands, and beats her brest.

Warwicke
The king I feare hath ill intreated her.

Penbrooke
Hard is the hart, that injures such a saint.

Mortimer
I know tis long of Gaveston she weepes.

Mortimer senior
Why? he is gone.

Mortimer
Madam, how fares your grace?

Queene
Ah Mortimer now breaks the kings hate forth,
And he confesseth that he loves me not.

Mortimer
Crie quittance Madam then, and love not him.

Queene
No, rather will I die a thousand deaths,
And yet I love in vaine, heele nere love me.

Lancaster
Feare
ye not Madam, now his minions gone,
His wanton humor will be quicklie left.

Queene
O never Lancaster! I am injoynde,
To sue unto you all for his repeale:
This wils my lord, and this must I performe,
Or else be banisht from his highnesse presence.

Lancaster
For his repeale, Madam! he comes not back,
Unlesse the sea cast up his shipwrack body.

Warwicke
And to behold so sweete a sight as that,
Theres none here, but would run his horse to death.

Mortimer
But madam, would you have us cal him home?

Queene
I Mortimer, for till he be restorde,
The angrie king hath banished me the court:
And therefore as thou lovest and
tendrest me,
Be thou my advocate unto these peeres.

Mortimer
What, would
ye have me plead for Gaveston?

Mortimer senior
Plead for him he that will, I am resolvde.

Lancaster
And so am I my lord, diswade the Queene.

Queene
O Lancaster, let him diswade the king,
For tis against my will he should returne

Warwicke
Then speake not for him, let the pesant go.

Queene
Tis for my selfe I speake, and not for him.

Penbrooke
No speaking will prevaile, and therefore cease.

Mortimer
Faire Queene forbeare to angle for the fish,
Which being caught, strikes him that takes it dead,
I meane that vile Torpedo, Gaveston,
That now I hope flotes on the Irish seas.

Queene
Sweete Mortimer, sit downe by me a while,
And I will tell thee reasons of such waighte,
As thou wilt soone subscribe to his repeale.

Mortimer
It is impossible, but speake your minde.

Queene
Then thus, but none shal heare it but our selves.

Lancaster
My Lords
,albeit the Queen winne Mortimer,
Will you be resolute and hold with me?

Mortimer senior
Not I against my nephew.

Penbrooke
Feare not, the queens words cannot alter him.

Warwicke
No? doe but marke how earnestly she pleads.

Lancaster
And see how coldly his lookes make deniall.

Warwicke
She smiles, now for my life his mind is changd.

Lancaster
Ile rather loose his friendship I, then graunt.

Mortimer
Well of necessitie it must be so
.
My Lords, that I abhorre base Gaveston,
I hope your honors make no question,
And therefore though I pleade for his repeall,
Tis not for his sake, but for our availe:
Nay, for the realms behoofe and for the kings.

Lancaster
Fie Mortimer, dishonor not thy selfe,
Can this be true twas good to banish him,
And is this true to call him home againe?
Such reasons make white blacke, and darke night day.

Mortimer
My Lord of Lancaster, marke the respect.

Lancaster
In no respect can contraries
be true.

Queene
Yet good my lord, heare what he can alledge.

Warwicke
All that he speakes, is nothing, we are resolv'd.

Mortimer
Do you not wish that Gaveston were dead?

Penbrooke
I would he were.

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

Mortimer senior
But nephew, do not play the sophister.

Mortimer
To mend the king, and do our countrie good:
Know you not Gaveston hath store of golde,
Which may in
Ireland purchase him such friends,
As he will front the mightiest of us all,
And whereas he shall live and be belovde,
Tis hard for us to worke his overthrow.

Warwicke
Marke you but that my lord of Lancaster.

Mortimer
But were he here, detested as he is,
How easilie might some base slave be subbornd,
To greet his lordship with a poniard,
And none so much as blame the
murtherer,
But rather praise him for that brave attempt,
And in the Chronicle, enrowle his name,
For purging of the realme of such a plague.

Penbrooke
He saith true.

Lancaster
I, but how chance this was not done before?

Mortimer
Because my lords, it was not thought upon:
Nay more, when he shall know it lies in us,
To banish him, and then to call him home,
Twill make him vaile the
topflagof his pride,
And feare to offend the meanest noble man.

Mortimer senior
But how if he do not Nephew?

Mortimer
Then may we with some colour rise in armes,
For howsoever we have borne it out,
Tis treason to be up against the king
.
So shall we have the people of our side,
Which for his fathers sake leane to the king,
But cannot brooke a night growne mushrump,
Such a one as my Lord of Cornewall is,
Should beare us downe of the nobilitie,
And when the commons and the nobles joyne,
Tis not the king can buckler Gaveston,
Weele pull him from the strongest hould he hath
My lords, if to performe this I be slack,
Thinke me as base a groome as Gaveston.

Lancaster
On that condition Lancaster will graunt.

Warwicke
And so will Penbrooke and I.

Mortimer senior
And I.

Mortimer
And Mortimer will rest at your commaund.

Queene
And when this favour Isabell forgets,
Then let her live abandond and forlorne
.
But see in happie time, my lord the king,
Having brought the Earle of Cornewall on his way,
Is new returnd, this newes will glad him much,
Yet not so much as me. I love him more
Then he can Gaveston, would he lov'd me
But halfe so much, then were I treble blest.
Enter king Edward moorning [attended].

Edward
Hees gone, and for his absence thus I moorne,
Did never sorrow go so neere my heart,
As dooth the want of my sweete Gaveston,
And could my crownes revenew bring him back,
I would freelie give it to his enemies,
And thinke I gaind, having bought so deare a friend.

Queene
Harke how he harpes upon his minion.

Edward
My heart is as an anvill unto sorrow,
Which beates upon it like the Cyclops hammers,
And with the noise turnes up my giddie braine,
And makes me frantick for my Gaveston:
Ah had some bloudlesse furie rose from hell,
And with my kinglie scepter stroke me dead,
When I was forst to leave my Gaveston.

Lancaster.
Diablo, what passions call you these?

Queene
My gratious lord, I come to bring you newes.

Edward
That you have parled with your Mortimer

Queene
That Gaveston
,my Lord,shalbe repeald.

Edward
Repeald, the newes is too sweet to be true.

Queene
But will you love me, if you finde it so?

Edward
If it be so, what will not Edward do?

Queene
For Gaveston, but not for Isabell.

Edward
For thee faire Queene, if thou lovest Gaveston,
Ile hang a golden tongue about thy neck,
Seeing thou hast pleaded with so good successe.

Queene
No other jewels hang about my neck
Then these my lord, nor let me have more wealth,
Then I may fetch from this ritch treasurie:
O how a kisse revives poore Isabell.

Edward
Once more receive my hand, and let this be,
A second mariage twixt thy selfe and me.

Queene
And may it proove more happie then the first.
My gentle lord, bespeake these nobles faire,
That waite attendance for a gratious looke,
And on their knees salute your majestie

Edward
Couragious Lancaster, imbrace thy king,
And as grosse vapours perish by the sunne,
Even so let hatred with thy soveraignes smile.
Live thou with me as my companion.

Lancaster
This salutation overjoyes my heart.

Edward
Warwickshalbe my chiefest counseller:
These silver haires will more adorne my court,
Then gaudie silkes, or rich imbrotherie
.
Chide me sweete Warwick, if I go astray.

Warwicke
Slay me my lord, when I offend your grace.

Edward
In sollemne triumphes, and in publike showes,
Penbrooke shall beare the sword before the king.

Penbrooke
And with this sword, Penbrooke wil fight for you.

Edward
But wherefore walkes yong Mortimer aside?
Be thou commaunder of our royall fleete,
Or if that loftie office like thee not,
I make thee heere lord Marshall of the realme.

Mortimer
My lord, ile marshall
so your enemies,
As England shall be quiet, and you safe.

Edward
And as for you, lord Mortimer of England,
Whose great atchivements in our forrain warre,
Deserves no common place, nor meane reward:
Be you the generall of the levied troopes,
That now are readie to assaile the Scots.

Mortimer senior
In this your grace hath highly honoured me,
For with my nature warre doth best agree.

Queene
Now is the king of England riche and strong,
Having the love of his renowned peeres.

Edward
I Isabella nere was my heart so light.
Clarke of the crowne, direct our warrant forth,
For Gaveston to Ireland: Beamont flie,
As fast as Iris, or Joves Mercurie.

Beamont
It shalbe done my gratious Lord.
[Exeunt Clarke and Beamont.]

Edward
Lord Mortimer, we leave you to your charge:
Now let us in, and feast it roiallie:
Against our friend the earle of Cornewall comes,
Weele have a generall tilt and turnament,
And then his mariage shalbe solemnized,
For wot you not that I have made him sure,
Unto our cosin, the earle of Glosters heire.

Lancaster
Such newes we heare my lord.

Edward
That day, if not for him,yet for my sake,
Who in the triumphe will be challenger,
Spare for no cost, we will requite your love.

Warwicke
In this, or ought, your highnes shall commaund us.

Edward
Thankes gentle Warwick, come lets in and revell.
Exeunt. Manent Mortimers.

Mortimer senior
Nephue, I must to Scotland, thou staiest here.
Leave now to oppose thy selfe against the king,
Thou seest by nature he is milde and calme,
And seeing his minde so dotes on Gaveston,
Let him without controulement have his will.
The mightiest kings have had their minions,
Great Alexander lovde Ephestion,
The conquering Hercules for Hilas wept,
And for Patroclus sterne Achillis droopt:
And not kings onelie, but the wisest men,
The Romaine Tullie loved wit="Q3">Octavius,
Grave Socrates, wilde Alcibiades:
Then let his grace, whose youth is flexible,
And promiseth as much as we can wish,
Freely enjoy that vaine light-headed earle,
For riper yeares will weane him from such toyes.

Mortimer
Unckle, his wanton humor greeves not me,
But this I scorne, that one so baselie borne,
Should by his soveraignes favour grow so pert,
And riote
it with the treasure of the realme,
While souldiers mutinie for want of paie.
He weares a lords revenewe on his back,
And Midas like he jets it in the court,
With base outlandish cullions at his heeles,
Whose proud fantastick liveries make such show,
As if that Proteus god of shapes appearde.
I have not seene a dapper jack so briske,
He weares a short Italian hooded cloake,
Larded with pearle, and in his tuskan cap
A jewell of more value then the crowne.
Whiles other walke below, the king and he
From out a window, laugh at such as we,
And floute our traine, and jest at our attire:
Unckle, tis this that makes me impatient.

Mortimer senior
But nephew, now you see the king is changd.

Mortimer
Then so am I, and live to do him service,
But whiles I have a sword, a hand, a hart,
I will not yeeld to any such upstart.
You know my minde, come unckle lets away.
Exeunt.


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