_Pem._ I would he were.

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

_E. Mor._ But, nephew, do not play the sophister.

_Y. Mor._ 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? 260 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.

_Y. Mor._ But were he here, detested as he is, How easily might some base slave be suborned To greet his lordship with a poniard, 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? 270

_Pem._ He saith true.

_Lan._ I, but how chance this was not done before?

_Y. Mor._ 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 vail[207] the top-flag of his pride, And fear to offend the meanest n.o.bleman.

_E. Mor._ But how if he do not, nephew?

_Y. Mor._ Then may we with some colour rise in arms?

For howsoever we have borne it out, 280 'Tis treason to be up against the king; So we shall have the people of our side, Which for his father's sake lean to the king, But cannot brook a night-grown mushroom, Such a one as my lord of Cornwall is, Should bear us down of the n.o.bility.

And when the commons and the n.o.bles 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, 290 Think me as base a groom as Gaveston.

_Lan._ On that condition, Lancaster will grant.

_War._ And so will Pembroke and I.

_E. Mor._ And I.

_Y. Mor._ 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 Cornwall on his way, 300 Is new returned; this news will glad him much; Yet not so much as me; I love him 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 ever 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. 310

_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 h.e.l.l, And with my kingly sceptre struck me dead, When I was forced to leave my Gaveston!

_Lan._ Diablo! what pa.s.sions call you these?

_Queen._ My gracious lord, I come to bring you news. 320

_Edw._ That you have parled with your Mortimer?

_Queen._ That Gaveston, my lord, shall be repealed.

_Edw._ Repealed! the news is too sweet to be true!

_Queen._ But will you love me, if you find it so?

_Edw._ If it be so, what will not Edward do?

_Queen._ For Gaveston, but not for Isabel.

_Edw._ For thee, fair queen, if thou lov'st Gaveston, I'll hang a golden tongue about thy neck, Seeing thou hast pleaded with so good success.

_Queen._ No other jewels hang about my neck 330 Than these, my lord; nor let me have more wealth Than I may fetch from this rich treasury-- O how a kiss revives poor Isabel!

_Edw._ Once more receive my hand; and let this be A second marriage 'twixt thyself and me.

_Queen._ And may it prove more happy than the first!

My gentle lord, bespeak these n.o.bles fair, That wait attendance for a gracious look, And on their knees salute your majesty.

_Edw._ Courageous Lancaster, embrace thy king; 340 And, as gross vapours perish by the sun, Even so let hatred with thy sovereign's[208] smile.

Live thou with me as my companion.

_Lan._ This salutation overjoys my heart.

_Edw._ Warwick shall be my chiefest counsellor: These silver hairs will more adorn my court Than gaudy silks, or rich embroidery.

Chide me, sweet Warwick, if I go astray.

_War._ Slay me, my lord, when I offend your grace.

_Edw._ In solemn triumphs, and in public shows, 350 Pembroke shall bear the sword before the king.

_Pem._ And with this sword Pembroke will fight for you.

_Edw._ But wherefore walks young Mortimer aside?

Be thou commander of our royal fleet; Or, if that lofty office like thee not, I make thee here Lord Marshal of the realm.

_Y. Mor._ My lord, I'll marshal so your enemies, As England shall be quiet, and you safe.

_Edw._ And as for you, Lord Mortimer of Chirke, Whose great achievements in our foreign war 360 Deserves no common place, nor mean reward; Be you the general of the levied troops, That now are ready to a.s.sail the Scots.

_E. Mor._ In this your grace hath highly honoured me, For with my nature war doth best agree.

_Queen._ Now is the king of England rich and strong, Having the love of his renowned peers.

_Edw._ I, Isabel, ne'er was my heart so light.

Clerk of the crown, direct our warrant forth For Gaveston to Ireland: [_Enter_ Beaumont _with warrant._]

Beaumont, fly, 370 As fast as Iris, or Jove's Mercury.