For never doated Jove on Ganymede
So much as he on cursed Gaveston:
But that will more exasperate his wrath:
I must entreat him, I must speak him fair,
And be a means to call home Gaveston:
And yet he'll ever doat on Gaveston;
And so am I for ever miserable.

Enter the NOBLES.

LAN. Look where the sister of the king of France Sits wringing of her hands, and beats her breast! WAR. The king, I fear, hath ill-treated her.

PEM. Hard is the heart that injures such a saint. Y. MOR. I know 'tis long of Gaveston she weeps. E. MOR. Why, he is gone.

Y. MOR. Madam, how fares your grace?

QUEEN. Ah, Mortimer! now breaks the king's hate forth,

And he confesseth that he loves me not.

Y. MOR. Cry quittance, madam, then and love not him.

QUEEN. No, rather will I die a thousand deaths: And yet I love in vain-he'll ne'er love me.

LAN. Fear ye not, madam; now his minion's gone, His wanton humour will be quickly left.

QUEEN. Oh never, Lancaster! I am enjoin'd
To sue unto you all for his repeal;

This wills my lord, and this must I perform,
Or else be banish'd from his highness' presence.

LAN. For his repeal, madam! he comes not back, Unless the sea cast up his shipwreck'd body.

WAR. And to behold so sweet a sight as that, There's none here, but would run his horse to death. Y. MOR. But, madam, would you have us call him home?

QUEEN. Aye, Mortimer, for till he be restor❜d,
The angry king hath banish'd me the court;
And, therefore, as thou lov'st and tender'st me,
Be thou my advocate unto these peers.

Y. MOR. What! would you have me plead for
Gaveston?

E. MOR. Plead for him that will, I am resolv'd. LAN. And so am I, my lord; dissuade the queen. QUEEN. O Lancaster! let him dissuade the king, For 'tis against my will he should return.

WAR. Then speak not for him, let the peasant go. QUEEN. 'Tis for myself I speak, and not for him. PEM. No speaking will prevail, and therefore cease. Y. MOR. Fair queen, forbear to angle for the fish Which, being caught, strikes him that takes it dead; I mean that vile torpedo, Gaveston, That now I hope floats on the Irish seas.

QUEEN. Sweet Mortimer, sit down by me awhile, And I will tell thee reasons of such weight, As thou wilt soon subscribe to his repeal.

Y. MOR. It is impossible; but speak your mind. QUEEN. Then thus, but none shall hear it but ourselves.

LAN. My lords, albeit the queen win Mortimer, Will you be resolute, and hold with me?

E. MOR. Not I, against my nephew.

PEM. Fear not, the queen's words cannot alter him. WAR. No, do but mark how earnestly she pleads. LAN. And see how coldly his looks make denial. WAR. She smiles, now for my life his mind is chang'd.

LAN. I'll rather lose his friendship I, than grant.
Y. MOR. Well, of necessity it must be so.
My lords, that I abhor base Gaveston

I hope your honours make no question,
And therefore, though I plead for his repeal,
'Tis not for his sake, but for our avail:
Nay, for the realms behoof, and for the king's.

LAN. Fie, Mortimer, dishonour not thyself!
Can this be true, 'twas good to banish him?
And is this true, to call him home again?
Such reasons make white black, and dark night day.
Y. MOR. My lord of Lancaster, mark the respect.
LAN. In no respect can contraries be true.
QUEEN. Yet, good my lord, hear what he can
alledge.

WAR. All that he speaks is nothing, we are resolv'd.

Y. MOR. Do you not wish that Gaveston were dead? PEM. I would he were.

Y. MOR. Why then, my lord, give me but leave to speak.

E. MOR. But, nephew, do not play the sophister. Y. MOR. This which I urge is of a burning zeal To mend the king, and do our country good. Know you not Gaveston hath store of gold,

Which may in Ireland purchase him such friends,
As he will front the mightiest of us all?
And whereas he shall live and be belov'd,
'Tis hard for us to work his overthrow.

WAR. Mark you but that, my lord of Lancaster.
Y. MOR. But were he here, detested as he is,
How easily might some base slave be suborn'd,
To greet his lordship with a poignard,

And none so much as blame the murderer,
But rather praise him for that brave attempt,
And in the chronicle enrol his name,

For purging of the realm of such a plague?

PEM. He saith true.

LAN. Aye, but how chance this was not done before? Y. MOR. Because, my lords, it was not thought

upon:

Nay, more, when he shall know it lies in us
To banish him, and then to call him home,
"Twill make him vail the top-flag of his pride,
And fear to offend the meanest nobleman.

E. MOR. But how if he do not, nephew?

Y. MOR. Then may we with some colour rise in

arms:

For howsoever we have borne it out,
"Tis treason to be up against the king;
So we shall have the people on our side,
Which for his father's sake lean to the king,
But cannot brook a night-grown mushroom,
Such a one as my lord of Cornwall is,
Should bear us down of the nobility.

And when the commons and the nobles join,
'Tis not the king can buckler Gaveston;
We'll pull him from the strongest hold he hath.
My lords, if to perform this I be slack,
Think me as base a groom as Gaveston.

LAN. On that condition, Lancaster will grant.
WAR. And so will Pembroke and I.

E. MOR. And I.

Y. MOR. In this I count me highly gratify'd,
And Mortimer will rest at your command.
QUEEN. And when this favour Isabel forgets,
Then let her live abandon'd and forlorn.
But see, in happy time, my lord the king,
Having brought the earl of Cornwall on his way,
Is new return'd; this news will glad him much;
Yet not so much as me; I love him more
Than he can Gaveston; would he lov'd me
But half so much, then were I treble-bless'd!
Enter KING EDWARD, mourning.

EDW. He's gone, and for his absence thus I

mourn.

Did never sorrow go so near my heart,

As doth the want of my sweet Gaveston!
And could my crown's revenue bring him back,
I would freely give it to his enemies,

And think I gain'd, having bought so dear a friend.
QUEEN. Hark! how he harps upon his minion.
EDW. My heart is as an anvil unto sorrow,
Which beats upon it like the Cyclops' hammers,
And with the noise turns up my giddy brain,