# Edward II/Act II

Enter Spencer and Balducke.
Spencer, seeing that our Lord th'earle of Glosters dead Which of the Nobles dost thou meane to serve?
Spen. Not Mortimer nor any of his side, Because the King and he are enemies, Balducke: learne this of me, a factious Lord Shall hardly doe himselfe good, much lesse us, But he that hath the favour of a King, May with one word advance us while we live:
The liberall Earle of Cornewall is the man, On whose good fortune Spencers hope depends.
Bald. What, meane you then to be his follower?
Spen.
No, his Companion, for he loves me well, And would have once prefer'd me to the King.
Bald.
But he is banisht, theres small hope of him.
Spen.
I for a while, but Balducke marke the end, A friend of mine told me in secrecy, That hees repeal'd, and sent for backe againe, And even now, a Poast came from the Court, With Letters to our Lady from the King, And as she read she smild, which makes me thinke, It is about her Lover Gaveston.
Bald.
Tis like enough, for since he was exilde, She neither walkes abroad, nor comes in sight: But I had thought the match had beene broke off, And that his banishment had chang'd her minde.
Spen.
Our Ladies first love is not wavering, My life for thine she will have Gaveston.
Bald.
Then hope I by her meanes to be prefer'd, Having read unto her since she was a child.
Spen.
Then Balducke you must cast the Scholler off, And learne to court it like a Gentleman, Tis not a blacke Coat and a little Band, A Velvet cap'd Cloake fac'd 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 low legs to a noble man, Or looking downeward, with your eye-lids close, And saying, truely ant 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.
Bald.
Spencer thou know'st I hate such toyes, And use them but as meere Hypocrisie. Mine old Lord whiles he liv'd 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 kind of villany. I am none of these common Pedants I, That cannot speake without propterea quod.
Spen.
But one of those that saith quando quidem, And hath a speciall gift to forme a verbe.
Bald.
Leave off this jesting, here my Lady comes.
Enter the Lady.
The griefe 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 dye: This argues the entire love of my Lord, When I forsake thee, death seaze on my heart, But stay thee here where Gaveston shall sleepe. Now to the Letter of my Lord the King, He wills me to repaire unto the Court, And meete my Gaveston: why do I stay, Seeing that he talkes thus of my marriage day? Whose there, Balducke? See that my Coach be ready, I must hence.
Bald.
It shall be done Madam. Exit.
Lad. And meete me at the Parke pale presently: Spencer, stay you and beare me company, 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.
Spe.
I knew the King would have him home again.
Lady. If all things sort out, as I hope they will, Thy service Spencer shall be thought upon.
Spen.
I humbly thanke your Ladiship.
Lad. Come leade the way, I long till I am there.
Enter Edward, the Queene, Lancaster, Mortimer, Warwicke, Pembrooke, Kent, attendants.
Edw. The winde is good, I wonder why he stayes, I feare me he is wrackt upon the Sea.
Qu. Look Lancaster how passionate he is, And still his mind runnes on his Minion.
Lan. My Lord.
Edw. How now, what newes? is Gaveston arriv'd?
Mor.ju. Nothing but Gaveston, what means your Grace? You have matters of more waight to thinke upon, The King of France sets foote in Normandy.
Edw. A triflle, weele expell him when we please: But tell me Mortimer, whats thy device, Against the stately triumph we decreed?
Mor.ju. A homely one my Lord, not worth the telling:
Edw. Prey thee let me know it.
Mor.ju. But seeing you are so desirous, thus it is: A lofty Cedar tree faire flourishing, On whose top-branches kingly Eagles pearch, And by the barke a canker creepes me up, And gets unto the highest bough of all, The Motto: Æque tandem.
Edw. And what is yours my Lord of Lancaster?
Lan. My Lord, mines more obscure then Mortimers. Plinie reports, there is a flying Fish, Which all the other Fishes deadly hate, And therefore being pursu'd it takes the aire: No sooner is it up, but ther's a Fowle That seizeth it, this Fish my Lord I beare, The Motto this: Undique mors est.
Edw. Proud Mortimer, ungentle Lancaster? Is this the love you beare your Soveraigne? Is this the Fruit your reconcilement beares? Can you in words make shew of amity, And in your sheilds display your rancorous minds? What call you this but private libelling, Against the Earle of Cornewall and my brother?
Qu. Sweete husband be content, they all love you.
Edw. They love me not that hate my Gaveston, I am that Cedar, shake me not too much,
And you the Eagles, sore you nere so high, I have the Gresses that will pull you downe, And Æque tandem shall that canker cry, Unto the proudest Peere of Brittany: Though thou compar'st him to a flying Fish, And threatnest death whether he rise or fall, Tis not the hugest monster of the sea, Nor foulest Harpie that shall swallow him.
Mor.ju. If in his absence thus he favors him, What will he doe when as he shall be present?
Lan. That shal we see, looke where his Lordship comes.
Enter Gaveston.
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 brazen Tower, Desir'd her more, and waxt outragious, So did it fare with me: and now thy sight Is sweeter farre, then was thy parting hence, Bitter and irkesome to my sobbing heart.
Ga. Sweet Lord & King, your speech preventeth mine, Yet have I words left to expresse my joy: The Shepheard nipt with biting winters rage, Frolicks not more to see the painted Spring, Then I do to behold your Majesty.
Edw. Will none of you salute my Gaveston?
Lan. Salute him? yes, welcome Lord Chamberlaine.
Mor.ju. Welcome is the good Earle of Cornewall.
War. Welcome Lord Governour of the Ile of Man.
Pen. Welcome Master Secretary.
Edm. Brother doe you heare them?
Edw. Still will these Earles and Barons use me thus?
Gave. My Lord I cannot brooke these injuries,
Que. Aye me poore soule when these begin to jarre.
Edw. Returne it to their throats, Ile be thy warrant.
Gave. Base Leaden Earles that glory 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.
Lanc. Yet I disdaine not to do this for you.
Edw. Treason, treason: wher's the traytor?
Pen. Here here king, convay hence Gaveston?, thei'l murder him.
Gave. The life of thee shall salve this foule disgrace.
Mor.ju. Villaine thy life unlesse I misse mine aime.
Que. Ah furious Mortimer, what hast thou done?
Mor.ju. No more then I would answere were he slaine.
Edw. Yes more then thou canst answer though he live, Deare shall you both abide this riotous deed: Out of my presence, come not neere the Court.
Mor.ju. Ile not be bard the Court for Gaveston.
Lan. Weele hale him by the eares unto the blocke.
Edw. Looke to your owne heads, his is sure enough.
War. Looke to your owne Crowne, if you back him thus.
Edm.. Warwicke, these words do ill beseeme thy yeeres.
Edw. 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 downe, Come Edmond lets away and levy men, Tis warre that must abate these Barons pride. Exit the King.
War. Lets to our Castles, for the King is mov'd.
Mor.ju. Moov'd may he be, and perish in his wrath.
Lan. Cosin it is no dealing with him now, He meanes to make us stoope by force of armes, And therefore let us joyntly heere protest, To prosecute that Gaveston to the death.
Mor.ju. By heaven the abject Villaine shall not live.
War. Ile have his bloud, or dye in seeking it.
Pen. The like oath Penbrooke takes.
Lan. And so doth Lancaster: Now send our Heralds to defie the King, And make the people sweare to put him downe.
Enter a Poast.
Mor.ju. Letters from whence?
Messen. From Scotland my Lord.
Lan. Why how now Cosin, how fares all our friends?
Mor.ju. My Uncles taken prisoner by the Scots.
La. Weele have him ransom'd man, be of good cheere.
Mor.ju. They rate his ransome at five thousand pound, Wo should defray the money but the King, Seeing he is taken Prisoner in his warres? Ile to the King.
Lan. Doe Cosin, and Ile beare thee company,
War. Meane time my Lord of Pembroke and my selfe, Will to New-castle heere, and gather head.
Mor.ju. About it then, and we will follow you.
Lan. Be resolute and full of secrecy.
War. I warrant you.
Mor.ju. Cosin, and if he will not ransome him, Ile thunder such a peale into his eares, As never subject did unto his King.
Lan. Content, ile beare my part, holla whose there?
Mor.ju. I marry, such a Guard as this doth well.
Lan. Lead on the way.
Guard. Whither will your Lordships?
Mor.ju. Whither else but to the King.
Guard. His Highnesse is dispos'd to be alone.
Lan. Why, so he may, but we will speake to him.
Guard. You may not in my Lord.
Mor.ju. May we not?
Edw. How now, what noise is this? Who have we there, ist you?
Mor.ju. Nay, stay my Lord, I come to bring you newes, Mine Uncles taken Prisoner by the Scots.
Edw. Then ransome him.
Lan. Twas in your warres, you should ransome him.
Mor.ju. And you shall ransome him, or else.
Edm. What Mortimer: you will not threaten him?
Edw. Quiet your selfe, you shall have the broad seale, To gather for him throughout the Realme.
Lan. Your Minion Gaveston hath taught you this.
Mor.ju. My Lord, the Family of the Mortimers Are not so poore, but would they sell their Land,
Twould levie men enough to anger you, We never beg but use such prayers as these.
Edw. Shall I still be haunted thus?
Mor. Nay, now you are here alone, ile speake my mind.
Lan. And so will I, and then my Lord farewell.
Mor. The idle Triumphs, Maskes, lascivious shewes, And prodigall gifts bestowed on Gaveston, Have drawne thy treasury dry, and made thee weake, The murmuring Commons over-stretched hath.
Lan. Looke for Rebellion, looke to be depos'd, Thy Garrisons are beaten out of France, And lame and poore, lye groning at the Gates, The wilde Oneyle, with swarmes of Irish Kernes, Lives uncontrol'd within the English pale, Unto the walls of Yorke the Scots made rode, And unresisted drave away rich spoyles.
Mor.ju. The hauty Dane commands the narrow Seas, While in the Harbor ride thy Ships unrig'd.
Lan. What forraine Prince sends thee Embassadors?
Mor.ju. Who loves thee? but a sott of flatterers.
Lan. Thy gentle Queene, sole sister to Valoys, Complaines, that thou hast left her all forlorne.
Mor.ju. Thy Court is naked, being bereft of those, That makes a King seeme glorious to the world, I meane the Peeres, whom thou shouldst dearely love: Libels are cast against thee in the streete, Ballads and rimes made of thy overthrow.
Lan. The Northren borderers seeing their houses burnt Their wives and Children slaine, runne up and downe Cursing the name of thee and Gaveston.
Mor. When wert thou in the field with banners spread? But once, and then thy Souldiers marcht like Players, With garish robes, not armour; and thy selfe Bedaub'd with Gold, rode laughing at the rest, Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest, Where womens favours hung like labels downe.
Lan. And therefore came it, that the fleering Scots, To Englands high disgrace, have made this Jigge,
Maids of England, sore may you mourne, For your Lemons you have lost, at Bannocks borne, With a heave and a ho, What weaneth the King of England, So soone to have woone Scotland, With a rombelow.
Mor. Wigmore shall flye to set my Uncle free.
Lan. And when tis gone, our swords shall purchase more. If ye be mov'd revenge it as you can. Looke next to see us with our Ensignes spread. Exeunt Nobles.
Edw. My swelling heart for very anger breakes, How oft have I beene baited by these Peeres? And dare not be reveng'd, for their power is great: Yet, shall the crowing of these Cockerels, Affright a Lyon? Edward unfold thy pawes, And let their lives bloud slake thy furies hunger: If I be cruell, and grow 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.
Edw. Art thou an enemy to my Gaveston?
Kent. I, and it grieves me that I favoured him.
Edw. Traitor be gone, whine thou with Mortimer.
Kent. So will I, rather then with Gaveston.
Edw. Out of my sight and trouble me no more.
Ke. No marvell though thou scorne thy noble Peeres, When I thy brother am rejected thus. Exit.
Edw. Away poore Gaveston, that hast no friend but me, Do what they can, weele live in Tinmoth heere, And so I walke with him about the walls, What care I though the Earles begirt us round? Heere comes she thats cause of all these jarres.
Enter the Queene, three Ladies, Balducke, and Spencer.
Qu. My Lord tis thought the Earles are up in armes,
Edw. I, and tis likewise thought you favour him.
Qu. Thus do you still suspect me without cause.
La. Sweete Uncle speake more kindly to the Queene.
Gav. My Lord, dissemble with her, speake her faire.
Edw. Pardon me sweete, I forgot my selfe.
Qu. Your pardon is quickly got of Isabell.
Edw. The yonger Mortimer is growne so brave, That to my face he threatens civill warres.
Gav. Why do you not commit him to the tower?
Edw. I dare not, for the people love him well.
Gav. Why then weele have him privily made away.
Edw. Would Lancaster and he had both carroust A bowle of poison to each others health: But let them goe, and tell me what are these.
La. Two of my fathers servants whilst he liv'd, Mai't please your Grace to entertaine them now.
Edw. Tell me, where wast thou borne?
What is thine armes?
Bald. My name is Balducke, and my Gentry If fetch from Oxford, not from Heraldry.
Edw. The fitter art thou Balduck for my turne, Waite on me, and Ile see thou shalt not want.
Bald. I humbly thanke your Majesty.
Edw. Knowest thou him Gaveston?
Gav. I my Lord, his name is Spencer, he is well allied, For my sake let him waite upon your Grace, Scarce shall you find a man of more desert.
Edw. Then Spencer waite upon me for his sake, Ile grace thee with a higher stile ere long.
Spen. No greater titles happen unto me, Then to be favoured of your Majesty.
Edw. Cosin, this day, shall be your marriage feast, And Gaveston, thinke that I love thee well, To wed thee to our Neece, the only Heire Unto the Earle of Gloster late deceased.
Gav. I know my Lord, many will stomacke me, But I respect neither their love nor hate.
Edw. The head-strong Barons shall not limit me, He that I list to favour shall be great:
Come lets away, and when the marriage ends, Have at the rebels, and their complices. Exeunt omnes.
Enter Lancaster, Mortimer, Warwicke, Penbrooke, Kent.
Kent. My Lords, of love to this our native Land, I come to joyne with you and leave the King, And in your quarrell and the Realmes behoofe, Will be the first that shall adventure life.
Lan. I feare me you are sent of pollicy, To undermine us with a shew of love.
War. He is your Brother, therefore have we cause To cast the worst, and doubt of your revolt.
Edm. Mine honour should be hostage of my truth, If that will not suffice farewell my Lords.
Mor.ju. Stay Edmond, never was Plantagenet False of his word, and therefore trust we thee.
Pen. But whats the reason you should leave him now?
Kent. I have enform'd the Earle of Lancaster.
Lan. And it sufficeth: now my Lords know this, That Gaveston is secretly arriv'd, And here in Tinmoth frolicks with the King, Let us with these our followers scale the walles, And sodainely surprize them unawares.
Mor.ju. Ile give the onset.
War. And ile follow thee.
Mor.ju. This tottered Ensigne of my Ancestors, Which swept the desart shore of that dead sea, Whereof we got the name of Mortimer, Will I advance upon this Castle walls, Drums strike alarum, raise them from their sport, And ring aloud the knell of Gaveston.
Lan. None be so hardy as to touche the King, But neither spare you Gaveston, nor his friends. Exeunt.
Enter the King and Spencer, to them Gaveston, &c.
Edw. O tell me Spencer where is Gaveston?
Spen. I feare me he is slaine my gracious Lord.
Edw. No, here he comes, now let them spoyle and kill: Flie, flie my Lords, the Earles have got the hold, Take shipping and away to Scarborough,
Spencer and I will post away by Land.
Gave. O stay my Lord, they will not injure you.
Edw. I will not trust them, Gaveston away.
Gave. Farewell my Lord.
Edw. Lady, farewell.
Lady. Farewell sweete Uncle till we meete againe.
Edw. Farewell sweete Gaveston, and farewell Neece.
Que. No farewell to poore Isabell, thy Queene?
Edw. Yes yes, for Mortimer your Lovers sake. Exeunt omnes, manet Isabella.
Que. 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 heart, That when I had him we might never part.
Enter the Barons alarums.
Lan. I wonder how he scapt.
Mor.ju. Whose this, the Queene?
Que. I Mortimer, the miserable Queene, Whose pining heart her inward sighes have blasted, And body with continuall mourning wasted: These hands are tir'd, with hailing 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.
Mor.ju. Cease to lament, and tell us wher's the King?
Qu. What would you with the King? ist him you seek?
Lan. No Madame, 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 dye.
Qu. Hees gone by water unto Scarborough, Pursue him quickly, and he cannot scape, The King hath left him, and his traine is small.
War. Forslow no time, sweete Lancaster lets march.
Mor. How comes it that the King and he is parted?
Qu. That this your army going severall wayes, Might be of lesser force, and with the power That he intendeth presently to raise, Be easily supprest: and therefore be gone.
Mor. Heere in the River rides a Flemish Hoy, Lets all aboord, and follow him amaine.
Lan. The wind that beares him hence, will fill our sails, Come, come aboord, tis but an houres sayling.
Mor. Madame stay you within this Castle here.
Qu. No Mortimer, ile to my Lord the King.
Mor. Nay, rather saile with us to Scarborough.
Qu. You know the King is so suspicious, As if he heare, I have but talk't with you, Mine Honour will be cal'd in question, And therefore gentle Mortimer be gone.
Mor. Madam, I cannot stay to answer you, But thinke of Mortimer as he deserves.
Qu. So well hast thou deserv'd sweete Mortimer, As Isabel 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 prayer, If he be strange and not regard my words, My sonne and I will over into France, And to the King my Brother there complaine, How Gaveston hath rob'd me of his love: But yet I hope my sorrowes will have end, And Gaveston this blessed day be slaine. Exeunt.
Enter Gaveston, pursued.
Gave. Yet lusty Lords I have escap'd your hands, Your threats, your Larums, and your hot pursuits, And though divorced from King Edwards eyes, Yet liveth Pierce of Gaveston unsurpriz'd, Breathing, in hope (malgrado all your beards, That muster Rebels thus against your King) To see his royall Soveraigne once againe.
Enter the Nobles.
War. Upon him Souldiers, take away his weapons.
Mor.ju. 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 heere shouldst thou fall, And welter in thy gore.
Lan. Monster of men, that like the Greekish strumpet
Train'd to armes and bloudy warres So many valiant Knights, Looke for no other fortune wretch then death, King Edward is not here to buckler thee.
War.
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 heere severely we will execute Upon thy person: hang him at a bough:
Gav. My Lord.
War. Souldiers have him away: But for thou wert the favorite of a King, Thou shalt have so much honour at our hands.
Gave. 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.
Lanc. How now my Lord of Arundell?
Arun. My Lords, King Edward greetes you all by me.
War. Arundell, say your message.
Arun. His Majesty hearing that you had taken Gaveston, Intreateth you by me, yet but he may See him before he dyes, for why, he sayes And sends you word, he knowes that dye he shall, And if you gratifie his Grace so farre, He will be mindfull of the curtesie.
War. How now?
Gave. Renowned Edward, how thy name
Revives poore Gaveston.
War. No, it needeth not, Arundell, we will gratifie the King In other matters, he must pardon us in this, Souldiers away with him.
Gave. Why my Lord of Warwick, Will not these delayes beget my hopes? I know it Lords, it is this life you aime at, Yet grant King Edward this.
Mor.ju. Shalt thou appoint what we shall grant?
Souldiers away with him: Thus weele gratifie the King, Weele send his head by thee, let him bestow His teares on that, for that is all he gets, Of Gaveston, or else his senselesse trunke.
Lan. Not so my Lord, lest he bestow more cost In burying him, then he hath ever earned.
Arun. My Lords, it is his Majesties request, And in the honour of a King he sweares, He will but talke with him and send him backe.
War. When, can you tell? Arundell no, we wot He that the care of Realme-remits, And drives his Nobles to these exigents For Gaveston, will if he seize him once, Violate any promise to possesse him.
Arun. Then if you will not trust his Grace in keepe, My Lords, I will be pledge for his returne.
Mor.ju. It is honourable in thee to offer this, But for we know thou art a noble Gentleman, We will not wrong thee so, To make away a true man for a theefe.
Gave. How meanst thou Mortimer? that is over base.
Mor. Away base Groome, robber of Kings renowne, Question with thy companions and mates.
Pen. My Lord Mortimer, and you my Lords each one, To gratifie the Kings 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 againe, Provided this, that you my Lord of Arundell Will joyne with me.
War. Penbrooke, what wilt thou doe? Cause yet more bloud-shed: is it not enough That we have taken him, but must we now Leave him on had-I-wist, and let him go?
Pen. My Lords, I will not over-wooe your Honours, But if you dare trust Penbrooke with the Prisoner, Upon mine Oath I will returne him backe.
Arun. My Lord of Lancaster, what say you in this?
Lan. Why I say let him goe on Penbrookes word.
Pen. And you Lord Mortimer.
Mor. How say you my Lord of Warwicke?
War. Nay, do your pleasures, I know how t'will proove.
Pen. Then give him me.
Gave. Sweete Soveraigne, yet I come To see thee ere I dye.
War. Yet not perhaps, If Warwicks wit and policy prevaile.
Mor.ju. My Lord of Penbrooke, we deliver him you. Returne him on your Honour sound away. Exeunt.
Manent Penbrooke, Arundell, Gaveston, and Penbrookes men, foure souldiers.
Pen. My Lord, you shall goe with me, My house is not farre hence, out of the way A little, but our men shall goe along, We that have pretty wenches to our Wives, Sir, must not come so neere and balke their lips.
Mat. Tis very kindly spoke my Lord of Penbrooke, Your honour hath an Adamant of power, To draw a Prince.
Pen. So my Lord, come hither James, I do commit this Gaveston to thee, Be thou this night his Keeper, in the morning
We will discharge thee of thy charge, be gone.
Gave. Unhappy Gaveston, whither goest thou now? Exit cum servis Pen.
Horse boy. My Lord, weele quickly be at Cobham. Exeunt ambo.
Enter Gaveston mourning, and the Earle of Pembrookes men.
Gav. O trecherous Warwick thus to wrong thy friend.
Jam. I see it is your life these armes pursue.
Gav. Weaponlesse must I fall and dye in bands, O must this day be period of my life! Center of my blisse, and ye be men, Speed to the King.
Enter Warwicke and his company.
War. My Lord of Penbrookes men, Strive you no longer, I will have that Gaveston.
James. Your Lordship doth dishonour to your selfe, And wrong our Lord, your honourable friend.
War. No James, it is my countries cause I follow, Goe, take the Villaine, Souldiers come away, Weele make quicke worke, commend me to your master My friend, and tell him that I watcht it well, Come let thy shadow parly with King Edward.
Gave. Trecherous Earle, shall not I see the King?
War. The King of Heaven perhaps, no other king,
Away.
Exeunt Warwicke and his men, with Gaveston. Manent James cum cæteris.
We will in hast goe certifie our Lord,
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