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.