Edward the Second

Q. Isab. O miserable and distressed queen!   Would, when I left sweet France, and was embarked,   That charming Circe, walking on the waves,   Had chang'd my shape! or at the marriage-day   The cup of Hymen had been full of poison!   Or with those arms, that twin'd about my neck,   I had been stifled, and not liv'd to see   The king my lord thus to abandon me!   Like frantic Juno, will I fill the earth   With ghastly murmur of my sighs and cries;   For never doted Jove on Ganymede   So much as he on cursed Gaveston:   But that will more exasperate his wrath;   I must entreat him, I must speak him fair,   And be a means to call home Gaveston:   And yet he'll ever dote on Gaveston;   And so am I for ever miserable.

Re-enter LANCASTER, WARWICK, PEMBROKE, the elder MORTIMER, and the younger MORTIMER.

Lan. Look, where the sister of the king of France   Sits wringing of her hands and beats her breast!War. The king, I fear, hath ill-treated her.Pem. Hard is the heart that injures such a saint.Y. Mor. I know 'tis 'long of Gaveston she weeps.E. Mor. Why, he is gone.Y. Mor. Madam, how fares your grace?Q. Isab. Ah, Mortimer, now breaks the king's hate forth,   And he confesseth that he loves me not!Y. Mor. Cry quittance, madam, then, and love not him.Q. Isab. No, rather will I die a thousand deaths:   And yet I love in vain; he'll ne'er love me.Lan. Fear ye not, madam; now his minion's gone,   His wanton humour will be quickly left.Q. Isab. O, never, Lancaster! I am enjoin'd,   To sue unto you all for his repeal:   This wills my lord, and this must I perform,   Or else be banish'd from his highness' presence.Lan. For his repeal, madam! he comes not back,   Unless the sea cast up his shipwreck'd body.War. And to behold so sweet a sight as that,   There's none here but would run his horse to death.Y. Mor. But, madam, would you have us call him home?Q. Isab. Ay, Mortimer, for, till he be restor'd,   The angry king hath banish'd me the court;   And, therefore, as thou lov'st and tender'st me,   Be thou my advocate unto these peers.Y. Mor. What, would you have me plead for Gaveston?E. Mor. Plead for him that will, I am resolv'd.Lan. And so am I, my lord: dissuade the queen.Q. Isab. O, Lancaster, let him dissuade the king!   For 'tis against my will he should return.War. Then speak not for him; let the peasant go.Q. Isab. 'Tis for myself I speak, and not for him.Pem. No speaking will prevail; and therefore cease.Y. Mor. Fair queen, forbear to angle for the fish   Which, being caught, strikes him that takes it dead;   I mean that vile torpedo, Gaveston,   That now, I hope, floats on the Irish seas.Q. Isab. Sweet Mortimer, sit down by me a while,   And I will tell thee reasons of such weight   As thou wilt soon subscribe to his repeal.Y. Mor. It is impossible: but speak your mind.Q. Isab. Then, thus;—but none shall hear it but ourselves.                                               [Talks to Y. Mor. apart.Lan. My lords, albeit the queen win Mortimer,   Will you be resolute and hold with me?E. Mor. Not I, against my nephew.Pem. Fear not; the queen's words cannot alter him.War. No? do but mark how earnestly she pleads!Lan. And see how coldly his looks make denial!War. She smiles: now, for my life, his mind is chang'd!Lan. I'll rather lose his friendship, I, than grant.Y. Mor. Well, of necessity it must be so.—   My lords, that I abhor base Gaveston   I hope your honours make no question.   And therefore, though I plead for his repeal,   'Tis not for his sake, but to our avail;   Nay, for the realm's behoof, and for the king's.Lan. Fie, Mortimer, dishonour not thyself!   Can this be true, 'twas good to banish him?   And is this true, to call him home again?   Such reasons make white black, and dark night day.Y. Mor. My Lord of Lancaster, mark the respect.Lan. In no respect can contraries be true.Q. Isab. Yet, good my lord, hear what he can allege.War. All that he speaks is nothing; we are resolv'd.Y. Mor. Do you not wish that Gaveston were dead?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?   And whereas he shall live and be belov'd,   '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 suborn'd   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!Pem. He saith true.Lan. Ay, 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 the top flag of his pride,   And fear to offend the meanest nobleman.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,   'Tis treason to be up against the king;   So shall we 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 nobility:   And, when the commons and the nobles 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,   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.Q. Isab. And when this favour Isabel forgets,   Then let her live abandon'd and forlorn.—   But see, in happy time, my lord the king,   Having brought the Earl of Cornwall on his way,   Is new return'd. This news will glad him much:   Yet not so much as me; I love him more   Than he can Gaveston: would he lov'd me   But half so much! then were I treble-blest.

Re-enter KING EDWARD, mourning.

K. Edw. He's gone, and for his absence thus I mourn:   Did never 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 gain'd, having bought so dear a friend.Q. Isab. Hark, how he harps upon his minion!K. 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 hell,   And with my kingly sceptre struck me dead,   When I was forc'd to leave my Gaveston!Lan. Diablo, what passions call you these?Q. Isab. My gracious lord, I come to bring you news.K. Edw. That you have parled with your Mortimer?Q. Isab. That Gaveston, my lord, shall be repeal'd.K. Edw. Repeal'd! the news is too sweet to be true.Q. Isab. But will you love me, if you find it so?K. Edw. If it be so, what will not Edward do?Q. Isab. For Gaveston, but not for Isabel.K. 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.Q. Isab. No other jewels hang about my neck   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!K. Edw. Once more receive my hand; and let this be   A second marriage 'twixt thyself and me.Q. Isab. And may it prove more happy than the first!   My gentle lord, bespeak these nobles fair,   That wait attendance for a gracious look,   And on their knees salute your majesty.K. Edw. Courageous Lancaster, embrace thy king;   And, as gross vapours perish by the sun,   Even so let hatred with thy sovereign's smile:   Live thou with me as my companion.Lan. This salutation overjoys my heart.K. 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.K. Edw. In solemn triumphs and in public shows   Pembroke shall bear the sword before the king.Pem. And with this sword Pembroke will fight for you.K. 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.K. Edw. And as for you, Lord Mortimer of Chirke,   Whose great achievements in our foreign war   Deserve no common place nor mean reward,   Be you the general of the levied troops   That now are ready to assail the Scots.E. Mor. In this your grace hath highly honour'd me,   For with my nature war doth best agree.Q. Isab. Now is the king of England rich and strong,   Having the love of his renowmed peers.K. Edw. Ay, 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   As fast as Iris or Jove's Mercury.Beau. It shall be done, my gracious lord. [Exit.K. Edw. Lord Mortimer, we leave you to your charge.   Now let us in, and feast it royally.   Against our friend the Earl of Cornwall comes   We'll have a general tilt and tournament;   And then his marriage shall be solemnis'd;   For wot you not that I have made him sure   Unto our cousin, the Earl of Glocester's heir?Lan. Such news we hear, my lord.K. Edw. That day, if not for him, yet for my sake,   Who in the triumph will be challenger,   Spare for no cost; we will requite your love.War. In this or aught your highness shall command us.K. Edw. Thanks, gentle Warwick. Come, lets in and revel.

[Exeunt all except the elder Mortimer and the younger Mortimer.

E. Mor. Nephew, I must to Scotland; thou stay'st here.   Leave now to oppose thyself against the king:   Thou seest by nature he is mild and calm;   And, seeing his mind so dotes on Gaveston,   Let him without controlment have his will.   The mightiest kings have had their minions;   Great Alexander lov'd Hephæstion,   The conquering Hercules for Hylas wept,   And for Patroclus stern Achilles droop'd   And not kings only, but the wisest men;   The Roman Tully lov'd Octavius,   Grave Socrates wild Alcibiades.   Then let his grace, whose youth is flexible,   And promiseth as much as we can wish,   Freely enjoy that vain light-headed earl;   For riper years will wean him from such toys.Y. Mor. Uncle, his wanton humour grieves not me;   But this I scorn, that one so basely-born   Should by his sovereign's favour grow so pert,   And riot it with the treasure of the realm,   While soldiers mutiny for want of pay.   He wears a lord's revenue on his back,   And, Midas-like, he jets it in the court,   With base outlandish cullions at his heels,   Whose proud fantastic liveries make such show   As if that Proteus, god of shapes, appear'd.   I have not seen a dapper Jack so brisk:   He wears a short Italian hooded cloak,   Larded with pearl, and in his Tuscan cap   A jewel of more value than the crown.   While others walk below, the king and he,   From out a window, laugh at such as we,   And flout our train, and jest at our attire.   Uncle, 'tis this that makes me impatient.E. Mor. But, nephew, now you see the king is chang'd.Y. Mor. Then so I am, and live to do him service:   But, whiles I have a sword, a hand, a heart,   I will not yield to any such upstart.   You know my mind: come, uncle, let's away. [Exeunt.

Enter the younger SPENSER and BALDOCK.

Bald. Spenser,   Seeing that our lord the Earl of Glocester's dead,   Which of the nobles dost thou mean to serve?Y. Spen. Not Mortimer, nor any of his side,   Because the king and he are enemies.   Baldock, learn this of me: a factious lord   Shall hardly do himself good, much less us;   But he that hath the favour of a king   May with one word advance us while we live.   The liberal Earl of Cornwall is the man   On whose good fortune Spenser's hope depends.Bald. What, mean you, then, to be his follower?Y. Spen. No, his companion; for he loves me well,   And would have once preferr'd me to the king.Bald. But he is banish'd; there's small hope of him.Y. Spen. Ay, for a while; but, Baldock, mark the end.   A friend of mine told me in secrecy   That he's repeal'd and sent for back again;   And even now a post came from the court   With letters to our lady from the king;   And, as she read, she smil'd; which makes me think   It is about her lover Gaveston.Bald. 'Tis like enough; for, since he was exil'd,   She neither walks abroad nor comes in sight.   But I had thought the match had been broke off,   And that his banishment had chang'd her mind.Y. Spen. Our lady's first love is not wavering;   My life for thine, she will have Gaveston.Bald. Then hope I by her means to be preferr'd,   Having read unto her since she was a child.Y. Spen. Then, Baldock, you must cast the scholar off,   And learn to court it like a gentleman.   'Tis not a black coat and a little band,   A velvet-cap'd cloak, 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 table's end,   Or making low legs to a nobleman,   Or looking downward, with your eye-lids close,   And saying, "Truly, an't 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. Spenser, thou know'st I hate such formal toys,   And use them but of mere hypocrisy.   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 bigness;   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 speak without propterea quod.Y. Spen. But one of those that saith quando-quidem,   And hath a special gift to form a verb.Bald. Leave off this jesting; here my lady comes.

Enter KING EDWARD'S Niece.

Niece. The grief for his exile was not so much   As is the joy of his returning home.   This letter came from my sweet Gaveston:   What need'st thou, love, thus to excuse thyself?   I know thou couldst not come and visit me. [Reads.   I will not long be from thee, though I die;—   This argues the entire love of my lord;– [Reads.   When I forsake thee, death seize on my heart!—   But stay thee here where Gaveston shall sleep.                                       [Puts the letter into her bosom.   Now to the letter of my lord the king:   He wills me to repair unto the court,   And meet my Gaveston: why do I stay,   Seeing that he talks thus of my marriage day?—   Who's there? Baldock!   See that my coach be ready; I must hence.Bald. It shall be done, madam.Niece. And meet me at the park-pale presently [Exit Baldock.   Spenser, stay you, and bear me company,   For I have joyful news to tell thee of;   My lord of Cornwall is a-coming over,   And will be at the court as soon as we.Y. Spen. I knew the king would have him home again.Niece. If all things sort out, as I hope they will,   Thy service, Spenser, shall be thought upon.Y. Spen. I humbly thank your ladyship.Niece. Come, lead the way: I long till I am there. [Exeunt.

Enter KING EDWARD, QUEEN ISABELLA, KENT, LANCASTER, the younger MORTIMER, WARWICK, PEMBROKE, and Attendants.

K. Edw. The wind is good; I wonder why he stays:   I fear me he is wreck'd upon the sea.Q. Isab. Look, Lancaster, how passionate he is,   And still his mind runs on his minion!Lan. My lord,—K. Edw. How now! what news? is Gaveston arriv'd?Y. Mor. Nothing but Gaveston! what means your grace?   You have matters of more weight to think upon:   The King of France sets foot in Normandy.K. Edw. A trifle! we'll expel him when we please.   But tell me, Mortimer, what's thy device   Against the stately triumph we decreed?Y. Mor. A homely one, my lord, not worth the telling.K. Edw. Pray thee, let me know it.Y. Mor. But, seeing you are so desirous, thus it is;   A lofty cedar tree, fair flourishing,   On whose top branches kingly eagles perch,   And by the bark a canker creeps me up,   And gets unto the highest bough of all;   The motto, Æque tandem.K. Edw. And what is yours, my Lord of Lancaster?Lan. My lord, mine's more obscure than Mortimer's.   Pliny reports, there is a flying-fish   Which all the other fishes deadly hate,   And therefore, being pursu'd, it takes the air:   No sooner is it up, but there's a fowl   That seizeth it: this fish, my lord, I bear;   The motto this, Undique mors est.Kent. Proud Mortimer! ungentle Lancaster!   Is this the love you bear your sovereign?   Is this the fruit your reconcilement bears?   Can you in words make show of amity,   And in your shields display your rancorous minds?   What call you this but private libelling   Against the Earl of Cornwall and my brother?Q. Isab. Sweet husband, be content; they all love you.K. Edw. They love me not that hate my Gaveston.   I am that cedar; shake me not too much;   And you the eagles; soar ye ne'er so high,   I have the jesses that will pull you down;   And Æque tandem shall that canker cry   Unto the proudest peer of Britainy.   Thou that compar'st him to a flying-fish,   And threaten'st death whether he rise or fall,   'Tis not the hugest monster of the sea,   Nor foulest harpy, that shall swallow him.Y. Mor. If in his absence thus he favours him,   What will he do whenas he shall be present?Lan. That shall we see: look, where his lordship come!

Enter GAVESTON.

K. Edw. My Gaveston! Welcome to Tynmouth! welcome to thy friend! Thy absence made me droop and pine away; For, as the lovers of fair Danaë, When she was lock'd up in a brazen tower, Desir'd her more, and wax'd outrageous, So did it fare with me: and now thy sight Is sweeter far than was thy parting hence Bitter and irksome to my sobbing heart. Gav. Sweet lord and king, your speech preventeth mine; Yet have I words left to express my joy: The shepherd, nipt with biting winter's rage, Frolics not more to see the painted spring Than I do to behold your majesty. K. Edw. Will none of you salute my Gaveston? Lan. Salute him! yes.—Welcome, Lord Chamberlain! Y. Mor. Welcome is the good Earl of Cornwall! War. Welcome, Lord Governor of the Isle of Man! Pem. Welcome, Master Secretary! Kent. Brother, do you hear them? K. Edw. Still will these earls and barons use me thus? Gav. My lord, I cannot brook these injuries. Q. Isab. Ay me, poor soul, when these begin to jar! [Aside. K. Edw. Return it to their throats; I'll be thy warrant. Gav. Base, leaden earls, that glory in your birth, Go sit at home, and eat your tenants' beef; And come not here to scoff at Gaveston, Whose mounting thoughts did never creep so low As to bestow a look on such as you. Lan. Yet I disdain not to do this for you. [Draws his sword, and offers to stab Gaveston. K. Edw. Treason! treason! where's the traitor? Pem. Here, here! K. Edw. Convey hence Gaveston; they'll murder him. Gav. The life of thee shall salve this foul disgrace. Y. Mor. Villain, thy life! unless I miss mine aim. [Wounds Gaveston. Q. Isab. Ah, furious Mortimer, what hast thou done. Y. Mor. No more than I would answer, were he slain. [Exit Gaveston with Attendants. K. Edw. Yes, more than thou canst answer, though he live: Dear shall you both abide this riotous deed: Out of my presence! come not near the court. Y. Mor. I'll not be barr'd the court for Gaveston. Lan. We'll hale him by the ears unto the block. K. Edw. Look to your own heads; his is sure enough. War. Look to your own crown, if you back him thus. Kent. Warwick, these words do ill beseem thy years. K. Edw. Nay, all of them conspire to cross me thus: But, if I live, I'll tread upon their heads That think with high looks thus to tread me down. Come, Edmund, let's away, and levy men: 'Tis war that must abate these barons' pride. [Exeunt King Edward, Queen Isabella, and Kent. War. Let's to our castles, for the king is mov'd. Y. Mor. Mov'd may he be, and perish in his wrath! Lan. Cousin, it is no dealing with him now; He means to make us stoop by force of arms: And therefore let us jointly here protest To prosecute that Gaveston to the death. Y. Mor. By heaven, the abject villain shall not live! War. I'll have his blood, or die in seeking it. Pem. The like oath Pembroke takes. Lan. And so doth Lancaster. Now send our heralds to defy the king; And make the people swear to put him down.

Enter a Messenger.

Y. Mor. Letters! from whence? Mes. From Scotland, my lord. [Giving letters to Mortimer. Lan. Why, how now, cousin! how fare all our friends? Y. Mor. My uncle's taken prisoner by the Scots. Lan. We'll have him ransom'd, man: be of good cheer. Y. Mor. They rate his ransom at five thousand pound. Who should defray the money but the king, Seeing he is taken prisoner in his wars? I'll to the king. Lan. Do, cousin, and I'll bear thee company. War. Meantime my Lord of Pembroke and myself Will to Newcastle here, and gather head. Y. Mor. About it, then, and we will follow you. Lan. Be resolute and full of secrecy. War. I warrant you. [Exit with Pembroke. Y. Mor. Cousin, an if he will not ransom him, I'll thunder such a peal into his ears As never subject did unto his king. Lan. Content; I'll bear my part.—Hollo! who's there?

Enter Guard.

Y. Mor. Ay, marry, such a guard as this doth well. Lan. Lead on the way. Guard. Whither will your lordships? Y. Mor. Whither else but to the king? Guard. His highness is dispos'd to be alone. Lan. Why, so he may; but we will speak to him. Guard. You may not in, my lord. Y. Mor. May we not?

Enter KING EDWARD and KENT.

K. Edw. How now!   What noise is this? who have we here? is't you? [Going.Y. Mor. Nay, stay, my lord; I come to bring you news;   Mine uncle's taken prisoner by the Scots.K. Edw. Then ransom him.Lan. 'Twas in your wars; you should ransom him.Y. Mor. And you will ransom him, or else—Kent. What, Mortimer, you will not threaten him?K. Edw. Quiet yourself; you shall have the broad seal,   To gather for him th[o]roughout the realm.Lan. Your minion Gaveston hath taught you this.Y. Mor. My lord, the family of the Mortimers   Are not so poor, but, would they sell their land,   'Twould levy men enough to anger you.   We never beg, but use such prayers as these.K. Edw. Shall I still be haunted thus?Y. Mor. Nay, now you are here alone, I'll speak my mind.Lan. And so will I; and then, my lord, farewell.Y. Mor. The idle triumphs, masks, lascivious shows,   And prodigal gifts bestow'd on Gaveston,   Have drawn thy treasury dry, and made thee weak;   The murmuring commons, overstretched, break.Lan. Look for rebellion, look to be depos'd:   Thy garrisons are beaten out of France,   And, lame and poor, lie groaning at the gates;   The wild Oneil, with swarms of Irish kerns,   Lives uncontroll'd within the English pale;   Unto the walls of York the Scots make road,   And, unresisted, drive away rich spoils.Y. Mor. The haughty Dane commands the narrow seas,   While in the harbour ride thy ships unrigg'd.Lan. What foreign prince sends thee ambassadors?Y. Mor. Who loves thee, but a sort of flatterers?Lan. Thy gentle queen, sole sister to Valois,   Complains that thou hast left her all forlorn.Y. Mor. Thy court is naked, being bereft of those   That make a king seem glorious to the world,   I mean the peers, whom thou shouldst dearly love;   Libels are cast against thee in the street;   Ballads and rhymes made of thy overthrow.Lan. The northern borderers, seeing their houses burnt,   Their wives and children slain, run up and down,   Cursing the name of thee and Gaveston.Y. Mor. When wert thou in the field with banner spread,   But once? and then thy soldiers march'd like players,   With garish robes, not armour; and thyself,   Bedaub'd with gold, rode laughing at the rest,   Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest,   Where women's favours hung like labels down.Lan. And thereof came it that the fleering Scots,   To England's high disgrace, have made this jig;   Maids of England, sore may you mourn,   For your lemans you have lost at Bannocksbourn,—   With a heave and a ho!   What weeneth the king of England   So soon to have won Scotland!—   With a rombelow!Y. Mor. Wigmore shall fly, to set my uncle free.Lan. And, when 'tis gone, our swords shall purchase more.   If you be mov'd, revenge it as you can:   Look next to see us with our ensigns spread. [Exit with Y. Mortimer.K. Edw. My swelling heart for very anger breaks:   How oft have I been baited by these peers,   And dare not be reveng'd, for their power is great!   Yet, shall the crowning of these cockerels   Affright a lion? Edward, unfold thy paws,   And let their lives'-blood slake thy fury's hunger.   If I be cruel and grow tyrannous,   Now let them thank themselves, and rue too late.Kent. My lord, I see your love to Gaveston   Will be the ruin of the realm and you,   For now the wrathful nobles threaten wars;   And therefore, brother, banish him for ever.K. Edw. Art thou an enemy to my Gaveston?Kent. Ay; and it grieves me that I favour'd him.K. Edw. Traitor, be gone! whine thou with Mortimer.Kent. So will I, rather than with Gaveston.K. Edw. Out of my sight, and trouble me no more!Kent. No marvel though thou scorn thy noble peers,   When I thy brother am rejected thus.K. Edw. Away! [Exit Kent.   Poor Gaveston, thou hast no friend but me!   Do what they can, we'll live in Tynmouth here;   And, so I walk with him about the walls,   What care I though the earls begirt us round?   Here comes she that is cause of all these jars.

Enter QUEEN ISABELLA, with EDWARD'S NIECE, two Ladies, GAVESTON, BALDOCK, and the younger SPENSER.