I’ll have my will; and these two Mortimers,
That cross me thus, shall know I am displeased.
Mine uncle here, this earl, and I myself,
Were sworn to your father at his death,
That he should ne’er return into the realm:
And now, my lord, ere I will break my oath,
This sword of mine, that should offend your foes,
Shall sleep within the scabbard at thy need,
And underneath thy banners march who will,
For Mortimer will hang his armour up.
Well, Mortimer, I’ll make thee rue these words:
Beseems it thee to contradict thy king?
Frown’st thou thereat, aspiring Lancaster?
The sword shall plane the furrows of thy brows,
And hew these knees that now are grown so stiff.
I will have Gaveston; and you shall know
What danger ’tis to stand against your king.
My lord, why do you thus incense your peers,
That naturally would love and honour you,
But for that base and obscure Gaveston?
Four earldoms have I, besides Lancaster—
Derby, Salisbury, Lincoln, Leicester;
These will I sell, to give my soldiers pay,
Ere Gaveston shall stay within the realm:
Therefore, if he be come, expel him straight.
Barons and earls, your pride hath made me mute;
But know I’ll speak, and to the proof, I hope.
I do remember, in my father’s days,
Lord Percy of the North, being highly moved,
Braved Mowbray in presence of the king;
For which, had not his highness loved him well,
He should have lost his head; but with his look
The undaunted spirit of Percy was appeased,
And Mowbray and he were reconciled:
Yet dare you brave the king unto his face.—
Brother, revenge it, and let these their heads
Preach upon poles, for trespass of their tongues.
I cannot, nor I will not; I must speak.—
Cousin, our hands I hope shall fence our heads,
And strike off his that makes you threaten us.—
Come, uncle, let us leave the brainsick king,
And henceforth parley with our naked swords.
And northward Lancaster hath many friends.—
Adieu, my lord; and either change your mind,
Or look to see the throne, where you should sit,
To float in blood, and at thy wanton head,
The glozing head of thy base minion thrown.
I cannot brook these haughty menaces:
Am I a king, and must be overruled?—
Brother, display my ensigns in the field:
I’ll bandy with the barons and the earls,
And either die or live with Gaveston.
What, Gaveston! welcome! Kiss not my hand:
Embrace me, Gaveston, as I do thee.
Why shouldst thou kneel? know’st thou not who I am?
Thy friend, thyself, another Gaveston:
Not Hylas was more mourned for of Hercules
Than thou hast been of me since thy exile.
And, since I went from hence, no soul in hell
Hath felt more torment than poor Gaveston.
I know it.—Brother, welcome home my friend.—
Now let the treacherous Mortimers conspire,
And that high-minded Earl of Lancaster:
I have my wish, in that I joy thy sight;
And sooner shall the sea o’erwhelm my land
Than bear the ship that shall transport thee hence.
I here create thee Lord High-chamberlain,
Chief Secretary to the state and me,
Earl of Cornwall, King and Lord of Man.
Brother, the least of these may well suffice
For one of greater birth than Gaveston.
Cease, brother, for I cannot brook these words.—
Thy worth, sweet friend, is far above my gifts:
Therefore, to equal it, receive my heart.
If for these dignities thou be envied,
I’ll give thee more; for, but to honour thee,
Is Edward pleased with kingly regiment.
Fear’st thou thy person? thou shalt have a guard:
Wantest thou gold? go to my treasury:
Wouldst thou be loved and feared? receive my seal,
Save or condemn, and in our name command
What so thy mind affects, or fancy likes.
It shall suffice me to enjoy your love;
Which whiles I have, I think myself as great
As Caesar riding in the Roman street,
With captive kings at his triumphant car.
To celebrate your father’s exequies.
But is that wicked Gaveston returned?
Ay, priest, and lives to be revenged on thee,
That wert the only cause of his exile.
’Tis true; and, but for reverence of these robes,
Thou shouldst not plod one foot beyond this place.
I did no more than I was bound to do:
And, Gaveston, unless thou be reclaimed,
As then I did incense the parliament,
So will I now, and thou shalt back to France.
Throw off his golden mitre, rend his stole,
And in the channel christen him anew.
Ay, brother, lay not violent hands on him!
For he’ll complain unto the see of Rome.
Let him complain unto the see of hell:
I’ll be revenged on him for my exile.
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.
But, in the meantime, 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.
What should a priest do with so fair a house?
A prison may beseem his holiness.
Scene II
Westminster.
