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What danger 'tis to stand against your king.
War. Oh, our heads!
Y. Mor. 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,
heads. War. All Warwickshire will love him for my sake.
Lan. And northward Lancaster* hath many friends. Adieu, my lord and either change your mind, Or look to see the throne, where should sit, To float in blood; and at thy wanton head, The glozing head of thy base minion thrown.
(Eseunt Nobles. Edw. I cannot brook these haughty menaces : Am I a king, and must be over-rul'd ? Brother, display my ensigns in the fields ; I'll bandy with the barons and the earls, And either die or live with Gaveston.
Gav. I can no longer keep me from my lord:
Gav. And since I went from hence, no soul in hell
* Gaveston, in the old editions.
Now let the treach'rous Mortimers conspire,
Gar. It shall suffice me to enjoy your love,
Enter the Bishop of Coventry.
But is that wicked Gaveston return'd?
Edw. Aye, priest, and lives to be reveng'd on thee, That wert the only cause of his exile.
Gav. 'Tis true; and but for reverence of these robes, Thou shouldst not plod one foot beyond this place.
Bish. I did no more than I was bound to do ;
Gav. Saving your reverence, you must pardon me.
Edw. Throw off his golden mitre, rend his stole, And in the channel christen him anew.
Kent. Ah, brother, lay not violent hands on him, For he'll complain unto the see of Rome.
Gav. Let him complain unto the see of hell, I'll be reveng'd on him for my exile.
Edw. 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 theem here, use him as thou wilt.
Gav. He shall to prison, and there die in bolts. Edw. Aye, to the Tower, the Fleet, or where thou
wilt. Bish. For this offence, be thou accurst of God! Edw. Who's there? Convey this priest to the
tower. Bish. Do, do.
Edw. But, in the mean time, 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.
Gav. What should a priest do with so fair a house? A prison may best beseem his holiness. [Ereunt.
Lan. What! will they tyrannize upon the church ?
Y. Mor. Well, let that peevish Frenchman guard
him sure ;
Unless his breast be sword-proof, he shall die.
realm, And secretary too, and lord of Man.
E. Mor. We may not, nor we will not suffer this.
Lan. My lord of Cornwall now at every word !