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Now let the treach'rous Mortimers conspire,
I have my wish, in that I 'joy thy sight;
Earl of Cornwall, king and lord of Man.
GAV. My lord, these titles far exceed my worth.
KENT. Brother, the least of these may
For one of greater birth than Gaveston.
EDW. Cease, brother; for I cannot brook these
Thy worth, sweet friend, is far above my gifts,
If for these dignities thou be envied,
I'll give thee more; for, but to honour thee,
Fear'st thou thy person? thou shalt have a guard.
Wouldst thou be lov'd and fear'd? receive my seal,
GAY. It shall suffice me to enjoy your love,
Enter the BISHOP of COVENTRY.
EDW. Whither goes my lord of Coventry so fast? BISH. To celebrate your father's exequies.
But is that wicked Gaveston return'd?
EDW. Aye, priest, and lives to be reveng'd on thee, That wert the only cause of his exile.
GAV. 'Tis true; and but for reverence of these robes, Thou shouldst not plod one foot beyond this place. BISH. I did no more than I was bound to do; And, Gaveston, unless thou be reclaim'd,
As then I did incense the parliament,
So will I now, and thou shalt back to France.
KENT. Ah, brother, lay not violent hands on him, For he'll complain unto the see of Rome.
GAV. Let him complain unto the see of hell, I'll be reveng'd on him for my exile.
EDW. No, spare his life, but seize upon his goods: Be thou lord bishop, and receive his rents, And make him serve thee as thy chaplain : I give him thee-here, use him as thou wilt.
GAV. He shall to prison, and there die in bolts. EDW. Aye, to the Tower, the Fleet, or where thou wilt.
BISH. For this offence, be thou accurst of God! EDW. Who's there? Convey this priest to the
BISH. Do, do.
EDW. But, in the mean time, Gaveston, away, And take possession of his house and goods. Come, follow me, and thou shalt have my guard
To see it done, and bring thee safe again.
GAV. What should a priest do with so fair a house? A prison may best beseem his holiness.
Enter both the MORTIMERS, WARWICK and
WAR. 'Tis true, the bishop is in the Tower,
LAN. What! will they tyrannize upon the church? Ah, wicked king! accursed Gaveston!
This ground, which is corrupted with their steps,
Y. MOR. Well, let that peevish Frenchman guard
Unless his breast be sword-proof, he shall die.
E. MOR. How now, why droops the earl of Lancaster?
Y. MOR. Wherefore is Guy of Warwick discontent? LAN. That villain Gaveston is made an earl.
E. MOR. An earl!
WAR. Aye, and besides lord chamberlain of the realm,
And secretary too, and lord of Man.
E. MOR. We may not, nor we will not suffer this. Y. MOR: Why post we not from hence to levy men? LAN. My lord of Cornwall now at every word! And happy is the man whom he vouchsafes, For vailing of his bonnet, one good look. Thus, arm in arm, the king and he doth march:
Nay more, the guard upon his lordship waits;
WAR. Thus leaning on the shoulder of the king, He nods, and scorns, and smiles at those that pass. E. MOR. Doth no man take exceptions at the slave? LAN. All stomach him, but none dare speak a word. Y. MOR. Aye, that bewrays their baseness, Lan
Were all the earls and barons of my mind,
Enter the ARCHBISHOP of CANTERBURY, and a
WAR. Here comes my lord of Canterbury's grace. LAN. His countenance bewrays he is displeas'd. ARCHBISH. First were his sacred garments rent and
Then laid they violent hands upon him; next
[Exit Messenger. LAN. My lord, will you take arms against the king?
ARCHBISH. What need I? God himself is up in arms, When violence is offer'd to the church.
Y. MOR. Then will you join with us, that be his
To banish or behead that Gaveston?
ARCHBISH. What else, my lords? for it concerns
The bishoprick of Coventry is his.
Enter the QUEEN.
Y. MOR. Madam, whither walks your majesty so fast?
To live in grief and baleful discontent;
He claps his cheek, and hangs about his neck,
E. MOR. Is it not strange, that he is thus bewitch'd? Y. MOR. Madam, return unto the court again: That sly inveigling Frenchman we'll exile,
Or lose our lives; and yet ere that day come
ARCHBISH. But yet lift not your swords against the king.
LAN. No; but we'll lift Gaveston from hence. WAR. And war must be the means, or he'll stay still. QUEEN. Then let him stay; for rather than my lord Shall be oppress'd with civil mutinies,
I will endure a melancholy life,
And let him frolick with his minion.
ARCHBISH. My lords, to ease all this, but hear me speak:-
We and the rest, that are his counsellors,