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