Edward II.
Marlowe, Christopher
Edward II.
Christopher Marlowe
The troublesome raigne and lamentable death of
Edward the Second, King of England
With the tragicall fall of proud Mortimer
[Dramatis personæ
King Edward The Second
Prince Edward, his son, afterwards King Edward The Third
Kent, brother to King Edward The Second
Gaveston
Archbishop of Canterbury
Bishop of Coventry
Bishop of Winchester
Warwick
Lancaster
Pembroke
Arundel
Leicester
Berkeley (spelled ›Bartley‹)
Mortimer the elder
Mortimer the younger, his nephew
Spenser the elder
Spenser the younger, his son
Baldock
Beaumont
Grussel
Gurney
Maltravers
Lightborn
Sir John of Hainault
Levune
Rice Ap Howel
Abbot
Monks
Heralds
Lords, Poor Men, James, Mower, Champion, Messengers, Soldiers, and Attendants
Queen Isabella, wife to King Edward The Second
Niece to King Edward The Second, daughter to the Duke of Gloucester
Ladies]
I.i
Enter Gaveston reading on a letter that was brought him from the king.
My father is deceast, come Gaveston,
And share the kingdom with thy deerest friend.
Ah words that make me surfet with delight:
What greater blisse can hap to Gaveston,
Then live and be the favorit of a king?
Sweete prince I come, these these thy amorous lines,
Might have enforst me to have swum from France,
And like Leander gaspt upon the sande,
So thou wouldst smile and take me in thy armes.
The sight of London to my exiled eyes,
Is as Elizium to a new come soule.
Not that I love the citie or the men,
But that it harbors him I hold so deare,
The king, upon whose bosome let me die,
And with the world be still at enmitie:
What neede the artick people love star-light,
To whom the sunne shines both by day and night.
Farewell base stooping to the lordly peeres,
My knee shall bowe to none but to the king.
As for the multitude that are but sparkes,
Rakt up in embers of their povertie,
Tanti: Ile fawne first on the winde,
That glaunceth at my lips and flieth away:
Enter three poore men.
But how now, what are these?
POORE MEN. Such as desire your worships service.
GAVESTON. What canst thou doe?
1. POORE MAN. I can ride.
GAVESTON. But I have no horses. What art thou?
2. POORE MAN. A traveller.
GAVESTON.
Let me see, thou wouldst do well
To waite at my trencher, and tell me lies at dinner time,
And as I like your discoursing, ile have you.
And what art thou?
3. POORE MAN.
A souldier, that hath serv'd against the Scot.
GAVESTON.
Why there are hospitals for such as you,
I have no warre, and therefore sir be gone.
3. POORE MAN.
Farewell, and perish by a souldiers hand,
That wouldst reward them with an hospitall.
[Offer to go.]
GAVESTON.
I, I, these wordes of his move me as much,
As if a Goose should play the Porpintine,
And dart her plumes, thinking to pierce my brest,
But yet it is no paine to speake men faire,
Ile flatter these, and make them live in hope:
You know that I came lately out of France,
And yet I have not viewd my Lord the king,
If I speed well, ile entertaine you all.
OMNES.
We thanke your worship.
GAVESTON.
I have some busines, leave me to my selfe.
OMNES.
We will wait heere about the court.
Exeunt.
GAVESTON.
Do: these are not men for me,
I must have wanton Poets, pleasant wits,
Musitians, that with touching of a string
May draw the pliant king which way I please:
Musicke and poetrie is his delight,
Therefore ile have Italian maskes by night,
Sweete speeches, comedies, and pleasing showes,
And in the day when he shall walke abroad,
Like Sylvian Nimphes my pages shall be clad,
My men like Satyres grazing on the lawnes,
Shall with their Goate feete daunce an antick hay.
Sometime a lovelie boye in Dians shape,
With haire that gilds the water as it glides,
Crownets of pearle about his naked armes,
And in his sportfull hands an Olive tree,
To hide those parts which men delight to see,
Shall bathe him in a spring, and there hard by,
One like Actæon peeping through the grove,
Shall by the angrie goddesse be transformde,
And running in the likenes of an Hart,
By yelping hounds puld downe, and seeme to die.
Such things as these best please his majestie,
My lord. Heere comes the king and the nobles
From the parlament, ile stand aside.
Enter the King, Lancaster, Mortimer senior, Mortimer junior, Edmund Earle of Kent, Guie Earle of Warwicke, etc.
EDWARD.
Lancaster.
LANCASTER.
My Lorde.
GAVESTON.
That Earle of Lancaster do I abhorre.
EDWARD.
Will you not graunt me this? – In spight of them
[Aside.]
Ile have my will, and these two Mortimers,
That crosse me thus, shall know I am displeasd.
MORTIMER SENIOR.
If you love us my lord, hate Gaveston.
GAVESTON.
That villaine Mortimer, ile be his death.
MORTIMER.
Mine unckle heere, this Earle, and I my selfe,
Were sworne to your father at his death,
That he should nere returne into the realme:
And know my lord, ere I will breake my oath,
This sword of mine that should offend your foes,
Shall sleepe within the scabberd at thy neede,
And underneath thy banners march who will,
For Mortimer will hang his armor up.
GAVESTON.
Mort dieu.
EDWARD.
Well Mortimer, ile make thee rue these words,
Beseemes it thee to contradict thy king?
Frownst thou thereat, aspiring Lancaster,
The sworde shall plane the furrowes of thy browes,
And hew these knees that now are growne so stiffe.
I will have Gaveston, and you shall know,
What danger tis to stand against your king.
GAVESTON.
Well doone, Ned.
LANCASTER.
My lord, why do you thus incense your peeres,
That naturally would love and honour you,
But for that base and obscure Gaveston:
Foure Earldomes have I besides Lancaster,
Darbie, Salsburie, Lincolne, Leicester,
These will I sell to give my souldiers paye,
Ere Gaveston shall stay within the realme.
Therefore if he be come, expell him straight.
KENT.
Barons and Earls, your pride hath made me mute,
But now ile speake, and to the proofe I hope:
I do remember in my fathers dayes,
Lord Percie of the North being highly mov'd,
Brav'd Mowberie in presence of the king,
For which, had not his highnes lov'd him well,
He should have lost his head, but with his looke,
The undaunted spirit of Percie was appeasd,
And Mowberie and he were reconcild:
Yet dare you brave the king unto his face.
Brother revenge it, and let these their heads,
Preach upon poles for trespasse of their tongues.
WARWICKE.
O our heads?
EDWARD.
I yours, and therefore I would wish you graunt.
WARWICKE.
Bridle thy anger gentle Mortimer.
MORTIMER.
I cannot, nor I will not, I must speake.
Cosin, our hands I hope shall fence our heads,
And strike off his that makes you threaten us.
Come unckle, let us leave the brainsick king,
And henceforth parle with our naked swords.
MORTIMER SENIOR.
Wilshire hath men enough to save our heads.
WARWICKE.
All Warwickshire will love him for my sake.
LANCASTER.
And Northward Gaveston hath many friends.
Adew my Lord, and either change your minde,
Or looke to see the throne where you should sit,
To floate in bloud, and at thy wanton head,
The glozing head of thy base minion throwne.
Exeunt Nobiles.
EDWARD.
I cannot brooke these hautie menaces:
Am I a king and must be over rulde?
Brother displaie my ensignes in the field,
Ile bandie with the Barons and the Earles,
And eyther die, or live with Gaveston.
GAVESTON.
I can no longer keepe me from my lord.
EDWARD.
What Gaveston, welcome: kis not my hand,
Embrace me Gaveston as I do thee:
Why shouldst thou kneele, knowest thou not who I am?
Thy friend, thy selfe, another Gaveston.
Not Hilas was more mourned of Hercules,
Then thou hast beene of me since thy exile.
GAVESTON.
And since I went from hence, no soule in hell
Hath felt more torment then poore Gaveston.
EDWARD.
I know it, brother welcome home my friend.
Now let the treacherous Mortimers conspire,
And that high minded earle of Lancaster,
I have my wish, in that I joy thy sight,
And sooner shall the sea orewhelme my land,
Then beare the ship that shall transport thee hence:
I heere create thee Lord high Chamberlaine,
Cheefe Secretarie to the state and me,
Earle of Cornewall, king and lord of Man.
GAVESTON.
My lord, these titles far exceed my worth.
KENT.
Brother, the least of these may well suffice
For one of greater birth then Gaveston.
EDWARD.
Cease brother, for I cannot brooke these words:
Thy woorth sweet friend is far above my guifts,
Therefore to equall it receive my hart.
If for these dignities thou be envied,
He give thee more, for but to honour thee,
Is Edward pleazd with kinglie regiment.
Fearst thou thy person? thou shalt have a guard:
Wants thou gold? go to my treasurie:
Wouldst thou be lovde and fearde? receive my seale,
Save or condemne, and in our name commaund,
What so thy minde affectes or fancie likes.
GAVESTON.
It shall suffice me to enjoy your love,
Which whiles I have, I thinke my selfe as great,
As Cæsar riding in the Romaine streete,
With captive kings at his triumphant Carre.
Enter the Bishop of Coventrie.
EDWARD.
Whether goes my Lord of Coventrie so fast?
BISHOP.
To celebrate your fathers exequies,
But is that wicked Gaveston returnd?
EDWARD.
I priest, and lives to be revengd on thee,
That wert the onely cause of his exile.
GAVESTON.
Tis true, and but for reverence of these robes,
Thou shouldst not plod one foote beyond this place.
BISHOP.
I did no more then I was bound to do,
And Gaveston unlesse thou be reclaimd,
As then I did incense the parlement,
So will I now, and thou shalt back to France.
GAVESTON.
Saving your reverence, you must pardon me.
[Lays hold on him.]
EDWARD.
Throwe of his golden miter, rend his stole,
And in the channell christen him a new.
KENT.
Ah brother, lay not violent hands on him,
For heele complaine unto the sea of Rome.
GAVESTON.
Let him complaine unto the sea of hell,
Ile be revengd on him for my exile.
EDWARD.
No, spare his life, but seaze upon his goods,
Be thou lord bishop, and receive his rents,
And make him serve thee as thy chaplaine,
I give him thee, here use him as thou wilt.
GAVESTON.
He shall to prison, and there die in boults.
EDWARD.
I, to the tower, the fleete, or where thou wilt.
BISHOP.
For this offence be thou accurst of God.
EDWARD.
Whose there? conveie this priest to the tower.
BISHOP. True, true.
[Exit guarded.]
EDWARD.
But in the meane time Gaveston away,
And take possession of his house and goods:
Come follow me, and thou shalt have my guarde,
To see it done, and bring thee safe againe.
GAVESTON.
What should a priest do with so faire a house?
A prison may beseeme his holinesse.
[Exeunt.]
[I.ii]
Enter both the Mortimers, Warwicke, and Lancaster.
WARWICKE.
Tis true, the Bishop is in the tower,
And goods and body given to Gaveston.
LANCASTER.
What? will they tyrannize upon the Church?
Ah wicked king, accurssed Gaveston,
This ground which is corrupted with their steps,
Shall be their timeles sepulcher, or mine.
MORTIMER.
Wel, let that peevish Frenchman guard him sure,
Unlesse his brest be sword proofe he shall die.
MORTIMER SENIOR.
How now, why droops the earle of Lancaster?
MORTIMER.
Wherfore is Guy of Warwicke discontent?
LANCASTER.
That villaine Gaveston is made an Earle.
MORTIMER SENIOR.
An Earle!
WARWICKE.
I, and besides, lord Chamberlaine of the realme,
And secretary to, and lord of Man.
MORTIMER SENIOR.
We may not, nor we will not suffer this.
MORTIMER.
Why post we not from hence to levie men?
LANCASTER.
My lord of Cornewall now, at every worde,
And happie is the man, whom he vouchsafes
For vailing of his bonnet one good looke.
Thus arme in arme, the king and he dooth marche:
Nay more, the guarde upon his lordship waites:
And all the court begins to flatter him.
WARWICKE.
Thus leaning on the shoulder of the king,
He nods, and scornes, and smiles at those that passe.
MORTIMER SENIOR.
Doth no man take exceptions at the slave?
LANCASTER.
All stomack him, but none dare speake a word.
MORTIMER.
Ah that bewraies their basenes Lancaster,
Were all the Earles and Barons of my minde,
Weele hale him from the bosome of the king,
And at the court gate hang the pessant up,
Who swolne with venome of ambitious pride,
Will be the ruine of the realme and us.
Enter the [Arch]Bishop of Canterburie [and attendant.]
WARWICKE.
Here comes my lord of Canterburies grace.
LANCASTER.
His countenance bewraies he is displeasd.
BISHOP.
First were his sacred garments rent and torne,
Then laide they violent hands upon him, next
Himselfe imprisoned, and his goods asceasd,
This certifie the Pope, away, take horsse.
[Exit attendant.]
LANCASTER.
My lord, will you take armes against the king?
BISHOP.
What neede I, God himselfe is up in armes,
When violence is offered to the church.
MORTIMER.
Then wil you joine with us that be his peeres
To banish or behead that Gaveston?
BISHOP.
What els my lords, for it concernes me neere,
The Bishoprick of Coventrie is his.
Enter the Queene.
MORTIMER.
Madam, whether walks your majestie so fast?
QUEENE.
Unto the forrest gentle Mortimer,
To live in greefe and balefull discontent,
For now my lord the king regardes me not,
But dotes upon the love of Gaveston.
He claps his cheekes, and hanges about his neck,
Smiles in his face, and whispers in his eares,
And when I come, he frownes, as who should say,
Go whether thou wilt seeing I have Gaveston.
MORTIMER SENIOR.
Is it not straunge, that he is thus bewitcht?
MORTIMER.
Madam, returne unto the court againe:
That slie inveigling Frenchman weele exile,
Or lose our lives: and yet ere that day come,
The king shall lose his crowne, for we have power,
And courage to, to be revengde at full.
BISHOP.
But yet lift not your swords against the king.
LANCASTER.
No, but weele lift Gaveston from hence.
WARWICKE.
And war must be the meanes, or heele stay stil.
QUEENE.
Then let him stay, for rather then my lord
Shall be opprest by civill mutinies,
I wil endure a melancholie life,
And let him frollick with his minion.
BISHOP.
My lords, to eaze all this, but heare me speake.
We and the rest that are his counsellers,
Will meete, and with a generall consent,
Confirme his banishment with our handes and seales.
LANCASTER.
What we confirme the king will frustrate.
MORTIMER.
Then may we lawfully revolt from him.
WARWICKE.
But say my lord, where shall this meeting bee?
BISHOP.
At the new temple.
MORTIMER.
Content.
BISHOP.
And in the meane time ile intreat you all,
To crosse to Lambeth, and there stay with me.
LANCASTER.
Come then lets away.
MORTIMER.
Madam farewell.
QUEENE.
Farewell sweet Mortimer, and for my sake,
Forbeare to levie armes against the king.
MORTIMER.
I, if words will serve, if not, I must.
[Exeunt.]
[I.iii]
Enter Gaveston and the earle of Kent.
GAVESTON.
Edmund, the mightie prince of Lancaster
That hath more earldomes then an asse can beare,
And both the Mortimers, two goodly men,
With Guie of Warwick that redoubted knight,
Are gone towards Lambeth, there let them remaine.
[Exeunt.]
[I.iv]
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 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, who me 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 Queene –
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.
This which I urge, is of a burning zeale,
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 topflag of 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.
In this I count me highly gratified,
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.
Warwick shalbe 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 Chirke,
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 Isabell, 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 manage 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 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.
[II.i]
Enter Spencer and Balduck.
BALDOCK.
Spencer,
Seeing that our Lord th'earle of Glosters dead,
Which of the nobles dost thou meane to serve?
SPENCER.
Not Mortimer, nor any of his side,
Because the king and he are enemies.
BALDOCK.
Learne this of me, a factious lord
Shall hardly do himselfe good, much lesse us,
But he that hath the favour of a king,
May with one word, advaunce us while we live:
The liberall earle of Cornewall is the man,
On whose good fortune Spencers hope depends.
BALDOCK.
What, meane you then to be his follower?
SPENCER.
No, his companion, for he loves me well,
And would have once preferd me to the king.
BALDOCK.
But he is banisht, theres small hope of him.
SPENCER.
I for a while, but Baldock marke the end,
A friend of mine told me in secrecie,
That hees repeald, and sent for back againe,
And even now, a poast came from the court,
With letters to our ladie from the King,
And as she red, she smild, which makes me thinke,
It is about her lover Gaveston.
BALDOCK.
Tis like enough, for since he was exild,
She neither walkes abroad, nor comes in sight:
But I had thought the match had beene broke off,
And that his banishment had changd her minde.
SPENCER.
Our Ladies first love is not wavering,
My life for thine she will have Gaveston.
BALDOCK.
Then hope I by her meanes to be preferd,
Having read unto her since she was a childe.
SPENCER.
Then Balduck, you must cast the scholler off,
And learne to court it like a Gentleman,
Tis not a black coate and a little band,
A Velvet cap'de cloake, fac'st before with Serge,
And smelling to a Nosegay all the day,
Or holding of a napkin in your hand,
Or saying a long grace at a tables end,
Or making lowe legs to a noble man,
Or looking downeward, with your eye lids close,
And saying, trulie ant may please your honor,
Can get you any favour with great men.
You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute,
And now and then, stab as occasion serves.
BALDOCK.
Spencer, thou knowest I hate such formall toies,
And use them but of meere hypocrisie.
Mine old lord whiles he livde, was so precise,
That he would take exceptions at my buttons,
And being like pins heads, blame me for the bignesse,
Which made me curate-like in mine attire,
Though inwardly licentious enough,
And apt for any kinde of villanie.
I am none of these common pedants I,
That cannot speake without propterea quod.
SPENCER.
But one of those that saith quandoquidem,
And hath a speciall gift to forme a verbe.
BALDOCK.
Leave of this jesting, here my lady comes.
Enter the Ladie [Neece to the king].
NEECE.
The greefe for his exile was not so much,
As is the joy of his returning home.
This letter came from my sweete Gaveston,
What needst thou, love, thus to excuse thy selfe?
I know thou couldst not come and visit me.
I will not long be from thee though I die:
This argues the entire love of my Lord.
When I forsake thee, death seaze on my heart,
But rest thee here where Gaveston shall sleepe.
Now to the letter of my Lord the King,
He wils me to repaire unto the court,
And meete my Gaveston: why do I stay,
Seeing that he talkes thus of my mariage day?
Whose there, Balduck?
See that my coache be readie, I must hence.
BALDOCK.
It shall be done madam.
NEECE.
And meete me at the parke pale presentlie:
Spencer, stay you and beare me companie,
Exit [Baldock].
For I have joyfull newes to tell thee of,
My lord of Cornewall is a comming over,
And will be at the court as soone as we.
SPENCER.
I knew the King would have him home againe.
NEECE.
If all things sort out, as I hope they will,
Thy service Spencer shalbe thought upon.
SPENCER.
I humbly thanke your Ladieship.
NEECE.
Come lead the way, I long till I am there.
[II.ii]
Enter Edward, the Queene, Lancaster, Mortimer [junior], Warwicke, Penbrooke, Kent, attendants.
EDWARD.
The winde is good, I wonder why he stayes,
I feare me he is wrackt upon the sea.
QUEENE.
Look Lancaster how passionate he is,
And still his minde runs on his minion.
LANCASTER.
My Lord.
EDWARD.
How now, what newes, is Gaveston arrivde?
MORTIMER.
Nothing but Gaveston, what means your grace?
You have matters of more waight to thinke upon,
The King of Fraunce sets foote in Normandie.
EDWARD.
A trifle, weele expell him when we please:
But tell me Mortimer, whats thy devise,
Against the stately triumph we decreed?
MORTIMER.
A homely one my lord, not worth the telling.
EDWARD.
Prethee let me know it.
MORTIMER.
But seeing you are so desirous, thus it is:
A loftie Cedar tree faire flourishing,
On whose top-branches Kinglie Eagles pearch,
And by the barke a canker creepes me up,
And gets unto the highest bough of all,
The motto: Æque tandem.
EDWARD.
And what is yours my lord of Lancaster?
LANCASTER.
My lord, mines more obscure then Mortimers.
Plinie reports, there is a flying Fish,
Which all the other fishes deadly hate,
And therefore being pursued, it takes the aire:
No sooner is it up, but thers a foule,
That seaseth it: this fish my lord I beare,
The motto this: Undique mors est.
EDWARD.
Proud Mortimer, ungentle Lancaster,
Is this the love you beare your soveraigne?
Is this the fruite your reconcilement beares?
Can you in words make showe of amitie,
And in your shields display your rancorous minds?
What call you this but private libelling,
Against the Earle of Cornewall and my brother?
QUEENE.
Sweete husband be content, they all love you.
EDWARD.
They love me not that hate my Gaveston.
I am that Cedar, shake me not too much,
And you the Eagles, sore ye nere so high,
I have the gesses that will pull you downe,
And Æque tandem shall that canker crie,
Unto the proudest peere of Britanie:
Though thou comparst him to a flying Fish,
And threatenest death whether he rise or fall,
Tis not the hugest monster of the sea,
Nor fowlest Harpie that shall swallow him.
MORTIMER.
If in his absence thus he favors him,
What will he do when as he shall be present?
LANCASTER.
That shall wee see, looke where his lordship comes.
Enter Gaveston.
EDWARD.
My Gaveston,
Welcome to Tinmouth, welcome to thy friend,
Thy absence made me droope, and pine away,
For as the lovers of faire Danae,
When she was lockt up in a brasen tower,
Desirde her more, and waxt outragious,
So did it sure with me: and now thy sight
Is sweeter farre, then was thy parting hence
Bitter and irkesome to my sobbing heart.
GAVESTON.
Sweet Lord and King, your speech preventeth mine,
Yet have I words left to expresse my joy:
The sheepeherd nipt with biting winters rage,
Frolicks not more to see the paynted springe,
Then I doe to behold your Majestie.
EDWARD.
Will none of you salute my Gaveston?
LANCASTER.
Salute him? yes: welcome Lord Chamberlaine.
MORTIMER.
Welcome is the good Earle of Cornewall.
WARWICKE.
Welcome Lord governour of the Ile of Man.
PENBROOKE.
Welcome maister secretarie.
KENT.
Brother, doe you heare them?
EDWARD.
Stil wil these Earles and Barrons use me thus?
GAVESTON.
My Lord I cannot brooke these injuries.
QUEENE.
Aye me poore soule when these begin to jarre.
EDWARD.
Returne it to their throtes, ile be thy warrant.
GAVESTON.
Base leaden Earles that glorie in your birth,
Goe sit at home and eate your tenants beefe:
And come not here to scoffe at Gaveston,
Whose mounting thoughts did never creepe so low,
As to bestow a looke on such as you.
LANCASTER.
Yet I disdaine not to doe this for you.
[Draws sword.]
EDWARD.
Treason, treason: whers the traitor?
PENBROOKE.
Heere, here.
EDWARD.
Convey hence Gaveston, thaile murder him.
GAVESTON.
The life of thee shall salve this foule disgrace.
MORTIMER.
Villaine thy life, unlesse I misse mine aime.
[Wounds Gaveston.]
QUEENE.
Ah furious Mortimer what hast thou done?
MORTIMER.
No more then I would answere were he slaine.
[Exit Gaveston, attended.]
EDWARD.
Yes more then thou canst answer though he live,
Deare shall you both abie this riotous deede:
Out of my presence, come not neere the court.
MORTIMER.
Ile not be barde the court for Gaveston.
LANCASTER.
Weele haile him by the eares unto the block.
EDWARD.
Looke to your owne heads, his is sure enough.
WARWICKE.
Looke to your owne crowne, if you back him thus.
KENT.
Warwicke, these words do ill beseeme thy years.
EDWARD.
Nay all of them conspire to crosse me thus,
But if I live, ile tread upon their heads,
That thinke with high lookes thus to tread me down.
Come Edmund lets away, and levie men,
Tis warre that must abate these Barons pride.
Exit the King [, Queene, and Kent].
WARWICKE.
Lets to our castels, for the king is moovde.
MORTIMER.
Moov'd may he be, and perish in his wrath.
LANCASTER.
Cosin it is no dealing with him now,
He meanes to make us stoope by force of armes,
And therefore let us jointlie here protest,
To prosecute that Gaveston to the death.
MORTIMER.
By heaven, the abject villaine shall not live.
WARWICKE.
Ile have his bloud, or die in seeking it.
PENBROOKE.
The like oath Penbrooke takes.
LANCASTER.
And so doth Lancaster:
Now send our Heralds to defie the King,
And make the people sweare to put him downe.
Enter a Poast.
MORTIMER.
Letters, from whence?
MESSENGER.
From Scotland my lord.
LANCASTER.
Why how now cosin, how fares all our friends?
MORTIMER.
My unckles taken prisoner by the Scots.
LANCASTER.
Weel have him ransomd man, be of good cheere.
MORTIMER.
They rate his ransome at five thousand pound.
Who should defray the money, but the King,
Seeing he is taken prisoner in his warres?
Ile to the King.
LANCASTER.
Do cosin, and ile beare thee companie.
WARWICKE.
Meane time my lord of Penbrooke and my selfe,
Will to Newcastell heere, and gather head.
MORTIMER.
About it then, and we will follow you.
LANCASTER.
Be resolute, and full of secrecie.
WARWICKE.
I warrant you.
MORTIMER.
Cosin, and if he will not ransome him,
Ile thunder such a peale into his eares,
As never subject did unto his King.
LANCASTER.
Content, ile beare my part, holla whose there?
[Enter a Guard.]
MORTIMER. I marry, such a garde as this doom well.
LANCASTER. Lead on the way.
GUARD. Whither will your lordships?
MORTIMER. Whither else but to the King.
GUARD. His highnes is disposde to be alone.
LANCASTER. Why, so he may, but we will speake to him.
GUARD. You may not in, my lord.
MORTIMER. May we not?
[Enter the King and Kent.]
EDWARD.
How now, what noise is this?
Who have we there, ist you?
[Offers to go back.]
MORTIMER.
Nay, stay my lord, I come to bring you newes,
Mine unckles taken prisoner by the Scots.
EDWARD. Then ransome him.
LANCASTER.
Twas in your wars, you should ransome him.
MORTIMER.
And you shall ransome him, or else –
KENT.
What Mortimer, you will not threaten him?
EDWARD.
Quiet your self, you shall have the broad seale,
To gather for him thoroughout the realme.
LANCASTER.
Your minion Gaveston hath taught you this.
MORTIMER.
My lord, the familie of the Mortimers
Are not so poore, but would they sell their land,
Would levie men enough to anger you.
We never beg, but use such praiers as these.
[Lays hand on sword.]
EDWARD.
Shall I still be haunted thus?
MORTIMER.
Nay, now you are heere alone, ile speake my minde.
LANCASTER.
And so will I, and then my lord farewell.
MORTIMER.
The idle triumphes, maskes, lascivious showes
And prodigall gifts bestowed on Gaveston,
Have drawne thy treasure drie, and made thee weake,
The murmuring commons overstretched hath.
LANCASTER.
Looke for rebellion, looke to be deposde,
Thy garrisons are beaten out of Frauce,
And lame and poore, lie groning at the gates,
The wilde Oneyle, with swarmes of Irish Kernes,
Lives uncontroulde within the English pale,
Unto the walles of Yorke the Scots made rode,
And unresisted, drave away riche spoiles.
MORTIMER.
The hautie Dane commands the narrow seas,
While in the harbor ride thy ships unrigd.
LANCASTER.
What forraine prince sends thee embassadors?
MORTIMER.
Who loves thee? but a sort of flatterers.
LANCASTER.
Thy gentle Queene, sole sister to Valoys,
Complaines, that thou hast left her all forlorne.
MORTIMER.
Thy court is naked, being bereft of those,
That makes a king seeme glorious to the world,
I meane the peeres, whom thou shouldst dearly love:
Libels are cast againe thee in the streete,
Ballads and rimes, made of thy overthrow.
LANCASTER.
The Northren borderers seeing their houses burnt,
Their wives and children slaine, run up and downe,
Cursing the name of thee and Gaveston.
MORTIMER.
When wert thou in the field with banner spred?
But once, and then thy souldiers marcht like players,
With garish robes, not armor, and thy selfe
Bedaubd with golde, rode laughing at the rest,
Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest,
Where womens favors hung like labels downe.
LANCASTER.
And thereof came it, that the fleering Scots,
To Englands high disgrace, have made this Jig,
Maids of England, sore may you moorne,
For your lemmons you have lost, at Bannocks borne,
With a heave and a ho,
What weeneth the king of England,
So soone to have woone Scotland,
With a rombelow.
MORTIMER.
Wigmore shall flie, to set my unckle free.
LANCASTER.
And when tis gone, our swordes shall purchase more.
If ye be moov'de, revenge it as you can,
Looke next to see us with our ensignes spred.
Exeunt Nobiles.
EDWARD.
My swelling hart for very anger breakes,
How oft have I beene baited by these peeres?
And dare not be revengde, for their power is great:
Yet, shall the crowing of these cockerels,
Affright a Lion? Edward, unfolde thy pawes,
And let their lives bloud slake thy furies hunger:
If I be cruell, and growe tyrannous,
Now let them thanke themselves, and rue too late.
KENT.
My lord, I see your love to Gaveston,
Will be the ruine of the realme and you,
For now the wrathfull nobles threaten warres,
And therefore brother banish him for ever.
EDWARD.
Art thou an enemie to my Gaveston?
KENT.
I, and it greeves me that I favoured him.
EDWARD.
Traitor be gone, whine thou with Mortimer.
KENT.
So will I, rather then with Gaveston.
EDWARD.
Out of my sight, and trouble me no more.
KENT.
No marvell though thou scorne thy noble peeres,
When I thy brother am rejected thus.
Exit.
EDWARD.
Away:
Poore Gaveston, that hast no friend but me,
Do what they can, weele live in Tinmoth here,
And so I walke with him about the walles,
What care I though the Earles begirt us round?
Heere comes she thats cause of all these jarres.
Enter the Queene, three Ladies [, one of these Neece to the king, Gaveston], Baldock, and Spencer.
QUEENE.
My lord, tis thought, the Earles are up in armes.
EDWARD.
I, and tis likewise thought you favour him.
QUEENE.
Thus do you still suspect me without cause.
NEECE.
Sweet unckle speake more kindly to the queene.
GAVESTON.
My lord, dissemble with her, speake her faire.
EDWARD.
Pardon me sweet, I forgot my selfe.
QUEENE.
Your pardon is quicklie got of Isabell.
EDWARD.
The yonger Mortimer is growne so brave,
That to my face he threatens civill warres.
GAVESTON.
Why do you not commit him to the tower?
EDWARD.
I dare not, for the people love him well.
GAVESTON.
Why then weele have him privilie made away.
EDWARD.
Would Lancaster and he had both carroust,
A bowle of poison to each others health:
But let them go, and tell me what are these.
NEECE.
Two of my fathers servants whilst he liv'de,
Mait please your grace to entertaine them now.
EDWARD.
Tell me, where wast thou borne?
What is thine armes?
BALDOCK.
My name is Baldock, and my gentrie
If fetcht rom Oxford, not from Heraldrie.
EDWARD.
The fitter art thou Baldock for my turne,
Waite on me, and ile see thou shall not want.
BALDOCK.
I humblie thanke your majestie.
EDWARD.
Knowest thou him Gaveston?
GAVESTON.
I my lord,
His name is Spencer, he is well alied,
For my sake let him waite upon your grace,
Scarce shall you finde a man of more desart.
EDWARD.
Then Spencer waite upon me, for his sake
Ile grace thee with a higher stile ere long.
SPENCER.
No greater titles happen unto me,
Then to be favoured of your majestie.
EDWARD.
Cosin, this day shalbe your mariage feast,
And Gaveston, thinke that I love thee well,
To wed thee to our neece, the onely heire
Unto the Earle of Gloster late deceased.
GAVESTON.
I know my lord, many will stomack me,
But I respect neither their love nor hate.
EDWARD.
The head-strong Barons shall not limit me.
He that I list to favour shall be great:
Come lets away, and when the mariage ends,
Have at the rebels, and their complices.
Exeunt omnes.
[II.iii]
Enter Lancaster, Mortimer [junior], Warwick, Penbrooke, Kent.
KENT.
My lords, of love to this our native land,
I come to joine with you, and leave the king,
And in your quarrell and the realmes behoofe,
Will be the first that shall adventure life.
LANCASTER.
I feare me you are sent of pollicie,
To undermine us with a showe of love.
WARWICKE.
He is your brother, therefore have we cause
To cast the worst, and doubt of your revolt.
KENT.
Mine honor shalbe hostage of my truth,
If that will not suffice, farewell my lords.
MORTIMER.
Stay Edmund, never was Plantagenet
False of his word, and therefore trust we thee.
PENBROOKE.
But whats the reason you should leave him now?
KENT.
I have enformd the Earle of Lancaster.
LANCASTER.
And it sufficeth: now my lords know this,
That Gaveston is secretlie arrivde,
And here in Tinmoth frollicks with the king.
Let us with these our followers scale the walles,
And sodenly surprize them unawares.
MORTIMER.
Ile give the onset.
WARWICKE.
And ile follow thee.
MORTIMER.
This tottered ensigne of my auncesters,
Which swept the desart shore of that dead sea,
Whereof we got the name of Mortimer,
Will I advaunce upon this castell walles,
Drums strike alarum, raise them from their sport,
And ring aloude the knell of Gaveston.
LANCASTER.
None be so hardie as to touche the King,
But neither spare you Gaveston, nor his friends.
Exeunt.
[II.iv]
[Alarums.] Enter [at several doors] the King and Spencer, to them Gaveston, etc. [the Queene, Neece, lords].
EDWARD.
O tell me Spencer, where is Gaveston?
SPENCER.
I feare me he is slaine my gratious lord.
EDWARD.
No, here he comes, now let them spoile and kill:
Flie, flie, my lords, the earles have got the holde,
Take shipping and away to Scarborough,
Spencer and I will post away by land.
GAVESTON.
O stay my lord, they will not injure you.
EDWARD.
I will not trust them, Gaveston away.
GAVESTON.
Farewell my Lord.
EDWARD.
Ladie, farewell.
NEECE.
Farewell sweete unckle till we meete againe.
EDWARD.
Farewell sweete Gaveston, and farewell Neece.
QUEENE.
No farewell, to poore Isabell, thy Queene?
EDWARD.
Yes, yes, for Mortimer your lovers sake.
Exeunt omnes, manet Isabella.
QUEENE.
Heavens can witnesse, I love none but you.
From my imbracements thus he breakes away,
O that mine armes could close this Ile about,
That I might pull him to me where I would,
Or that these teares that drissell from mine eyes,
Had power to mollifie his stonie hart,
That when I had him we might never part.
Enter the Barons, alarums.
LANCASTER.
I wonder how he scapt.
MORTIMER.
Whose this, the Queene?
QUEENE.
I Mortimer, the miserable Queene,
Whose pining heart, her inward sighes have blasted,
And body with continuall moorning wasted:
These hands are tir'd, with haling of my lord
From Gaveston, from wicked Gaveston,
And all in vaine, for when I speake him faire,
He turnes away, and smiles upon his minion.
MORTIMER.
Cease to lament, and tell us wheres the king?
QUEENE.
What would you with the king, ist him you seek?
LANCASTER.
No madam, but that cursed Gaveston.
Farre be it from the thought of Lancaster,
To offer violence to his soveraigne,
We would but rid the realme of Gaveston,
Tell us where he remaines, and he shall die.
[Exeunt Barons.]
QUEENE.
Hees gone by water unto Scarborough,
Pursue him quicklie, and he cannot scape,
The king hath left him, and his traine is small.
WARWICKE.
Forslowe no time, sweet Lancaster lets march.
MORTIMER.
How comes it, that the king and he is parted?
QUEENE.
That this your armie going severall waies,
Might be of lesser force, and with the power
That he intendeth presentlie to raise,
Be easilie supprest: and therefore be gone.
MORTIMER.
Heere in the river rides a Flemish hoie,
Lets all aboord, and follow him amaine.
LANCASTER.
The wind that bears him hence, wil fil our sailes,
Come, come aboord, tis but an houres sailing.
MORTIMER.
Madam, stay you within this castell here.
QUEENE.
No Mortimer, ile to my lord the king.
MORTIMER.
Nay, rather saile with us to Scarborough.
QUEENE.
You know the king is so suspitious,
As if he heare I have but talkt with you,
Mine honour will be cald in question,
And therefore gentle Mortimer be gone.
MORTIMER.
Madam, I cannot stay to answer you,
But thinke of Mortimer as he deserves.
[Exeunt Barons.]
QUEENE.
So well hast thou deserv'de sweete Mortimer,
As Isabell could live with thee for ever,
In vaine I looke for love at Edwards hand,
Whose eyes are fixt on none but Gaveston:
Yet once more ile importune him with praiers,
If he be straunge and not regarde my wordes,
My sonne and I will over into France,
And to the king my brother there complaine,
How Gaveston hath robd me of his love:
But yet I hope my sorrowes will have end,
And Gaveston this blessed day be slaine.
Exit.
[II.v]
Enter Gaveston pursued.
GAVESTON.
Yet lustie lords I have escapt your handes,
Your threats, your larums, and your hote pursutes,
And though devorsed from king Edwards eyes,
Yet liveth Pierce of Gaveston unsurprizd,
Breathing, in hope (malgrado all your beards,
That muster rebels thus against your king)
To see his royall soveraigne once againe.
Enter the Nobles.
WARWICKE.
Upon him souldiers, take away his weapons.
MORTIMER.
Thou proud disturber of thy countries peace,
Corrupter of thy king, cause of these broiles,
Base flatterer, yeeld, and were it not for shame,
Shame and dishonour to a souldiers name,
Upon my weapons point here shouldst thou fall,
And welter in thy goare.
LANCASTER.
Monster of men,
That like the Greekish strumpet traind to armes
And bloudie warres, so many valiant knights,
Looke for no other fortune wretch then death,
King Edward is not heere to buckler thee.
WARWICKE.
Lancaster, why talkst thou to the slave?
Go souldiers take him hence, for by my sword,
His head shall off: Gaveston, short warning
Shall serve thy turne: it is our countries cause,
That here severelie we will execute
Upon thy person: hang him at a bough.
GAVESTON.
My Lord!
WARWICKE.
Souldiers, have him away:
But for thou wert the favorit of a King,
Thou shalt have so much honor at our hands.
GAVESTON.
I thanke you all my lords, then I perceive,
That heading is one, and hanging is the other,
And death is all.
Enter earle of Arundell.
LANCASTER.
How now my lord of Arundell?
ARUNDELL.
My lords, king Edward greetes you all by me.
WARWICKE.
Arundell, say your message.
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