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Now let the treach'rous 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.
Gav. My lord, these titles far exceed my

worth.
Kent. Brother, the least of these may well suffice
For one of greater birth than Gaveston.
Edw. 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 pleas'd with kingly regiment.
Fear'st thou thy person ? thou shalt have a guard.
Want'st thou gold ? go to my treasury.
Wouldst thou be lov'd and fear'd ? receive my seal,
Save or condemn, and in our name command
What so thy mind affects, or fancy likes.

Gar. It shall suffice me to enjoy your love,
Which whiles I have, I think myself as great
As Cæsar riding in the Roman street,
With captive kings at his triumphant car.

Enter the Bishop of Coventry.
Edw. Whither goes my lord of Coventry so fast?
Bish. To celebrate your father's exequies.

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 ;
And, Gaveston, unless thou be reclaim'd,
As then I did incense the parliament,
So will I now, and thou shalt back to France.

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. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.
Enter both the MORTIMERS, WARWICK and

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

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

Y. Mor. Well, let that peevish Frenchman guard

him sure;

Unless his breast be sword-proof, he shall die.
E. Mor. How now, why droops the earl of Lan-

caster?
Y. Mor. Wherefore is Guy of Warwick discontent?
Lan. That villain Gaveston is made an earl.
E. Mor. An earl !
WAR. Aye, and besides lord chamberlain of the

realm, And secretary too, and lord of Man.

E. Mor. We may not, nor we will not suffer this.
Y. Mor: Why post we not from hence to levy men?

Lan. My lord of Cornwall now at every word !
And bappy 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.

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

E. Mor. Doth no man take exceptions at the slave? Lan. All stomach him, but none dare speak a word. Y. Mor. Aye, that bewrays their baseness, Lan.

caster. 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, swoln with venom of ambitious pride, Will be the ruin of the realm and us. Enter the ARCHBISHOP of CANTERBURY, and a

MESSENGER.
WAR. Here comes my lord of Canterbury's grace.
Lax. His countenance bewrays he is displeas'd.
ARCHBISH. First were his sacred garments rent and

torn,
Then laid they violent hands upon him; next
Himself imprison'd, and his goods asseiz'd :
This certify the pope ;-away, take horse.

[Erit Messenger. Lan. My lord, will you take arms against the

king? ARCHBISH.What need I? God himself is up in arms, When riolence is offerid to the church. Y. Mor. Then will you join with us, that be his ARCHBISH. What else, my lords? for it concerns

peers, To banish or behead that Gaveston ?

me near ;The bishoprick of Coventry is his.

Enter the QUEEN.
Y.Mor. Madam, whither walks your majesty so fast?

Queen. Unto the forest, gentle Mortimer,
To live in grief and baleful discontent;
For now, my lord, the king regards me not,
But doats upon the love of Gaveston.
He claps his cheek, 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.

E.Mor. Is it not strange, that he is thus bewitch'd ?

Y. Mor. 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 reveng'd at full. ARCABISH. But yet lift not your swords against the

king. Lan. No; but we'll lift Gaveston from hence. WAR. And war must be the means, or he'll stay still.

Queen. Then let him stay; for rather than my lord Shall be oppress'd with civil mutinies, I will endure a melancholy life, And let him frolick with his minion. ARCHBISH. 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

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