_Queen._ No, Mortimer, I'll to my lord the king. 50

_Y. Mor._ Nay, rather sail with us to Scarborough.

_Queen._ You know the king is so suspicious, As if he hear I have but talked with you, Mine honour will be called in question; And therefore, gentle Mortimer, be gone.

_Y. Mor._ Madam, I cannot stay to answer you, But think of Mortimer as he deserves.

[_Exeunt_ Barons.

_Queen._ So well hast thou deserved, sweet Mortimer, As Isabel could live with thee for ever.

In vain I look for love at Edward's hand, 60 Whose eyes are fixed on none but Gaveston: Yet once more I'll importune him with prayer, If he be strange and not regard my words, My son and I will over into France, And to the king my brother there complain, How Gaveston hath robbed me of his love: But yet I hope my sorrows will have end, And Gaveston this blessed day be slain.

[_Exit._

SCENE V.

_Enter_[246] GAVESTON, _pursued._

_Gav._ Yet, l.u.s.ty lords, I have escaped your hands, Your threats, your larums, and your hot pursuits; And though divorced from King Edward's eyes, Yet liveth Pierce of Gaveston unsurprised, Breathing, in hope (malgrado[247] all your beards, That muster rebels thus against your king), To see[248] his royal sovereign once again.

_Enter the_ n.o.bles.

_War._ Upon him, soldiers, take away his weapons.

_Y. Mor._ Thou proud disturber of thy country's peace, Corrupter of thy king; cause of these broils, 10 Base flatterer, yield! and were it not for shame, Shame and dishonour to a soldier's name, Upon my weapons point here should'st thou fall, And welter in thy gore.

_Lan._ Monster of men!

That, like the Greekish strumpet, trained to arms And b.l.o.o.d.y wars so many valiant knights, Look for no other fortune, wretch, than death!

King Edward is not here to buckler thee.

_War._ Lancaster, why talk'st thou to the slave?

Go, soldiers, take him hence, for by my sword 20 His head shall off: Gaveston, short warning Shall serve thy turn. It is our country's cause, That here severely we will execute Upon thy person: hang him at a bough.

_Gav._ My lords!--

_War._ Soldiers, have him away;-- But for thou wert the favourite of a king, Thou shalt have so much honour at our hands[249]--

_Gav._ I thank you all, my lords: then I perceive, That heading is one, and hanging is the other, And death is all.

_Enter_ Earl of ARUNDEL.

_Lan._ How now, my lord of Arundel? 30

_Arun._ My lords, King Edward greets you all by me.

_War._ Arundel, say your message.

_Arun._ His majesty, Hearing that you had taken Gaveston, Intreateth you by me, but that he may See him before he dies; for why, he says, And sends you word, he knows that die he shall; And if you gratify his grace so far, He will be mindful of the courtesy.

_War._ How now?

_Gav._ Renowned Edward, how thy name Revives poor Gaveston!

_War._ No, it needeth not; 40 Arundel, we will gratify the king In other matters; he must pardon us in this.

Soldiers, away with him!

_Gav._ Why, my lord of Warwick, Will not these delays beget my hopes?[250]

I know it, lords, it is this life you aim at, Yet grant King Edward this.

_Y. Mor._ Shalt thou appoint What we shall grant? Soldiers, away with him: Thus we'll gratify the king, We'll send his head by thee; let him bestow His tears on that, for that is all he gets 50 Of Gaveston, or else his senseless trunk.

_Lan._ Not so, my lords, lest he bestow more cost In burying him than he hath ever earned.

_Arun._ My lords, it is his Majesty's request.

And in the honour of a king he swears, He will but talk with him, and send him back.

_War._ When? can you tell?[251] Arundel, no; we wot.

He that the care of his[252] realm remits, And drives his n.o.bles to these exigents For Gaveston, will, if he seize[253] him once, 60 Violate any promise to possess him.

_Arun._ Then if you will not trust his grace in keep, My lords, I will be pledge for his return.

_Y. Mor._ 'Tis[254] honourable in thee to offer this; But for we know thou art a n.o.ble gentleman, We will not wrong thee so, to make away A true man for a thief.

_Gav._ How mean'st thou, Mortimer? that is over-base.

_Y. Mor._ Away, base groom, robber of king's renown, Question with thy companions and mates. 70

_Pem._ My Lord Mortimer, and you, my lords, each one, To gratify the king's request therein.

Touching the sending of this Gaveston, Because his majesty so earnestly Desires to see the man before his death, I will upon mine honour undertake To carry him, and bring him back again; Provided this, that you my lord of Arundel Will join with me.

_War._ Pembroke, what wilt thou do?

Cause yet more bloodshed? is it not enough 80 That we have taken him, but must we now Leave him on "had I wist,"[255] and let him go?

_Pem._ My lords, I will not over-woo your honours, But if you dare trust Pembroke with the prisoner, Upon mine oath, I will return him back.

_Arun._ My lord of Lancaster, what say you in this?

_Lan._ Why, I say, let him go on Pembroke's word.

_Pem._ And you, Lord Mortimer?

_Y. Mor._ How say you, my lord of Warwick?

_War._ Nay, do your pleasures, I know how 'twill prove.

_Pem._ Then give him me.

_Gav._ Sweet sovereign, yet I come 90 To see thee ere I die.