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.

Q. Isab. My lord, 'tis thought the earls are up in arms. K. Edw. Ay, and 'tis likewise thought you favour 'em. Q. Isab. Thus do you still suspect me without cause. Niece. Sweet uncle, speak more kindly to the queen. Gav. My lord, dissemble with her; speak her fair. K. Edw. Pardon me, sweet; I forgot myself. Q. Isab. Your pardon is quickly got of Isabel. K. Edw. The younger Mortimer is grown so brave, That to my face he threatens civil wars. Gav. Why do you not commit him to the Tower? K. Edw. I dare not, for the people love him well. Gav. Why, then, we'll have him privily made away. K. Edw. Would Lancaster and he had both carous'd A bowl of poison to each other's health! But let them