Edward II

epub:type="z3998:stage-direction">Enter on the one side the two Mortimers; on the other, Warwick and Lancaster. Warwick

’Tis true, the bishop is in the Tower,
And goods and body given to Gaveston.

Lancaster

What! will they tyrannise upon the church?
Ah, wicked King! accursed Gaveston!
This ground, which is corrupted with their steps,
Shall be their timeless sepulchre or mine.

Younger Mortimer

Well, let that peevish Frenchman guard him sure;
Unless his breast be sword-proof, he shall die.

Elder Mortimer How now! why droops the Earl of Lancaster? Younger Mortimer Wherefore is Guy of Warwick discontent? Lancaster That villain Gaveston is made an earl. Elder Mortimer An earl! Warwick

Ay, and besides Lord-chamberlain of the realm,
And Secretary too, and Lord of Man.

Elder Mortimer We may not nor we will not suffer this. Younger Mortimer Why post we not from hence to levy men? Lancaster

“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,
And all the court begins to flatter him.

Warwick

Thus leaning on the shoulder of the king,
He nods, and scorns, and smiles at those that pass.

Elder Mortimer Doth no man take exceptions at the slave? Lancaster All stomach him, but none dare speak a word. Younger Mortimer

Ah, that bewrays their baseness, Lancaster!
Were all the earls and barons of my mind,
We’d hale him from the bosom of the king,
And at the court-gate hang the peasant up,
Who, swollen with venom of ambitious pride,
Will be the ruin of the realm and us.

Warwick Here comes my Lord of Canterbury’s grace. Lancaster His countenance bewrays he is displeased. Enter the Archbishop of Canterbury and an Attendant. Archbishop of Canterbury

First, were his sacred garments rent and torn;
Then laid they violent hands upon him; next,
Himself imprisoned, and his goods asseized:
This certify the Pope: away, take horse. Exit Attendant.

Lancaster My lord, will you take arms against the king? Archbishop of Canterbury

What need I? God himself is up in arms
When violence is offered to the church.

Younger Mortimer

Then will you join with us, that be his peers,
To banish or behead that Gaveston?

Archbishop of Canterbury

What else, my lords? for it concerns me near;
The bishoprick of Coventry is his.

Enter Queen Isabella. Younger Mortimer Madam, whither walks your majesty so fast? Queen Isabella

Unto the forest, gentle Mortimer,
To live in grief and baleful discontent;
For now my lord the king regards me not,
But dotes upon the love of Gaveston:
He claps his cheeks, and hangs about his neck,
Smiles in his face, and whispers in his ears;
And, when I come, he frowns, as who should say,
“Go whither thou wilt, seeing I have Gaveston.”

Elder Mortimer Is it not strange that he is thus bewitched? Younger Mortimer

Madam, return unto the court again:
That sly inveigling Frenchman we’ll exile,
Or lose our lives; and yet, ere that day come,
The king shall lose his crown; for we have power,
And courage too, to be revenged at full.

Archbishop of Canterbury But yet lift not your swords against the king. Lancaster No; but we will lift Gaveston from hence. Warwick And war must be the means, or he’ll stay still. Queen Isabella

Then let him stay; for, rather than my lord
Shall be oppressed with civil mutinies,
I will endure a melancholy life,
And let him frolic with his minion.

Archbishop of Canterbury

My lords, to ease all this, but hear me speak:
We and the rest, that are his counsellors,
Will meet, and with a general consent
Confirm his banishment with our hands and seals.

Lancaster What we confirm the king will frustrate. Younger Mortimer Then may we lawfully revolt from him. Warwick But say, my lord, where shall this meeting be? Archbishop of Canterbury At the New Temple. Younger Mortimer Content. Archbishop of Canterbury

And, in the meantime, I’ll entreat you all
To cross to Lambeth, and there stay with me.

Lancaster Come, then, let’s away. Younger Mortimer Madam, farewell. Queen Isabella

Farewell, sweet Mortimer, and, for my sake,
Forbear to levy arms against the king.

Younger Mortimer Ay, if words will serve; if not, I must. Exeunt.

Scene III

A street in London.

	Enter Gaveston and Kent.
Gaveston	Edmund, the mighty prince of Lancaster, That hath more earldoms than an ass can bear, And both the Mortimers, two goodly men, With Guy of Warwick, that redoubted knight, Are gone towards Lambeth⁠—
Kent	There let them remain.
	Exeunt.

Scene IV

The New Temple.

	Enter Lancaster, Warwick, Pembroke, the Elder Mortimer, the Younger Mortimer, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and Attendants.
Lancaster	Here is the form of Gaveston’s exile; May it please your lordship to subscribe your name.
Archbishop of Canterbury	Give me the paper. He subscribes, as the others do after him.
Lancaster	Quick, quick, my lord; I long to write my name.
Warwick	But I long more to see him banished hence.
Younger Mortimer	The name of Mortimer shall fright the king, Unless he be declined from that base peasant.
	Enter King Edward, Gaveston, and Kent.
King Edward	What, are you moved that Gaveston sits here? It is our pleasure; we will have it so.
Lancaster	Your grace doth well to place him by your side, For nowhere else the new earl is so safe.
Elder Mortimer	What man of noble birth can brook this sight? Quam male conveniunt!⁠— See, what a scornful look the peasant casts!
Pembroke	Can kingly lions fawn on creeping ants?
Warwick	Ignoble vassal, that, like Phaeton, Aspir’st unto the guidance of the sun!
Younger Mortimer	Their downfall is at hand, their forces down: We will not thus be faced and over-peered.
King Edward	Lay hands on that traitor Mortimer!
Elder Mortimer	Lay hands on that traitor Gaveston!
Kent	Is this the duty that you owe your king?
Warwick	We know our duties; let him know his peers.
King Edward	Whither will you bear him? stay, or ye shall die.
Elder Mortimer	We are no traitors; therefore threaten not.
Gaveston	No, threaten not, my lord, but pay them home. Were I a king⁠—
Younger Mortimer	Thou, villain! wherefore talk’st thou of a king, That hardly art