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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.
Clerk of the crown direct our warrant forth,
For Gaveston to Ireland: Beamont, fly,

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,
We'll have a general tilt and tournament;
And then his marriage shall be solemniz'd.
For wot you not that I have made him sure
Unto our cousin, the earl of Glouster's heir?
LAN. Such news we hear, my lord.

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
and revel. [Exeunt. Manent the Mortimers.
E. MOR. Nephew, I must to Scotland; thou
stay'st here.

Leave now t' oppose thyself against the king,
Thou seest by nature he is mild and calm,

And seeing his mind so doats on Gaveston,

Let him without controulment have his will.
The mightiest kings have had their minions :
Great Alexander lov'd Hephestion;
The conquering Herc'les for his Hilas 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


But this I scorn, that one so basely born

Should by his sovereign's favour grow so pert,
And riot 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 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.




Enter Young SPENCER and BALDOCK.
BALD. Spencer, seeing that our lord the earl of
Glou'ster'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 Spencer's hope depends.
BALD. What, mean you then to be his follower?
Y. SPEN. No, his companion; for he loves me




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
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. 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,
Though inwardly licentious enough,

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:
What need'st thou, love, thus to excuse thyself?
I know thou couldst not come and visit me:

I will not long be from thee, though I die.
This argues the entire love of my lord,


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,

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