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For with my nature war doth best agree.
QUEEN. Now is the king of England rich and
Having the love of his renowned peers.
EDW. Aye, Isabel, ne'er was my heart so light.
As fast as Iris, or Jove's Mercury.
BEA. It shall be done, my gracious lord.
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,
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.
EDW. Thanks, gentle Warwick: come let's in
Leave now t' oppose thyself against the king,
And seeing his mind so doats on Gaveston,
Let him without controulment have his will.
Then let his grace, whose youth is flexible,
But this I scorn, that one so basely born
Should by his sovereign's favour grow so pert,
He wears a lord's revenue on his back,
Uncle, 'tis this that makes me impatient.
E. MOR. But, nephew, now you see the king is chang'd.
Y. MOR. Then so am I, and live to do him ser
But whilst 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.
ACT THE SECOND.
Enter Young SPENCER and BALDOCK.
Which of the nobles dost thou mean to serve?
And would have once preferr'd me to the king. BALD. But he is banish'd, there's small hope of him. Y. SPEN. Aye, for a while; but, Baldock, mark the end.
A friend of mine told me in secresy,
That he's repeal'd, and sent for back again;
And even now a post came from the court
And as she read she smil'd, which makes me think
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,
Or holding of a napkin in your hand,
Or looking downward, with your eye-lids close,
You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute,
BALD. Spencer, thou know'st I hate such formal toys,
And use them but of mere hypocrisy.
Mine old lord while he liv'd was so precise,
That he would take exceptions at my buttons,
And being like pins' heads, blame me for the big
Which made me curate-like in mine attire,
And apt for any kind of villainy.
I am none of these common pedants, I,
That cannot speak without propterea quod.
Y. SPEN. But one of those that saith, quando
And hath a special gift to form a verb.
BALD. Leave off this jesting, here my lady comes. Enter the LADY.
LADY. The grief for his exile was not so much, As is the joy of his returning home.
This letter came from my sweet Gaveston:
I will not long be from thee, though I die.
When I forsake thee, death seize on my heart: [Reads. But stay thee here where Gaveston shall sleep.
Now to the letter of my lord the king.
He wills me to repair unto the court,