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Himself imprisoned, and his goods asseized:
This certify the pope ;-away, take horse.

[Exit Messenger.

Lan. My lord, will you take arms against the king? Archbish. What need I? God himself is up in arms, 40 When violence is offered to the church.

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

Archbish. What else, my lords? for it concerns me near ;

The bishoprick of Coventry is his.

Enter QUEEN ISABELLA.

Y. Mor. Madam, whither walks your majesty so fast?
Queen. Unto the forest,1 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."

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E. Mor. Is it not strange, that he is thus bewitched? 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

1 It is not absolutely necessary to suppose that there is an allusion to any particular forest. What the queen means is that she is seeking solitude.

The king shall lose his crown ; for we have power,
And courage too, to be revenged at full.

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Archbish. But yet lift not your swords against the king. Lan. No; but we will 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 oppressed with civil mutinies,

I will endure a melancholy life,

And let him frolic with his minion.

Archbish. My lords, to ease all this, but hear me speak :

We and the rest, that are his counsellors,

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Will meet, and with a general consent
Confirm his banishment with our hands and seals.
Lan. What we confirm the king will frustrate.
Y. Mor. Then may we lawfully revolt from him.
War. But say, my lord, where shall this meeting be?
Archbish. At the New Temple.

Y. Mor. Content.

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

Lan. Come then, let's away.

Y. Mor. Madam, farewell!

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

Y. Mor. I, if words will serve; if not, I must.

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[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter GAVESTON and the EARL of KENT.

Gav. 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 toward Lambeth-there let them remain.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Enter 2 NOBLES and the ARCHBISHOP of CANTERBURY.

Lan. Here is the form of Gaveston's exile:

May it please your lordship to subscribe your name.
Archbish. Give me the paper.

[He subscribes, as the others do after him.
Lan. Quick, quick, my lord; I long to write my name.
War. But I long more to see him banished hence.
Y. Mor. The name of Mortimer shall fright the king,
Unless he be declined from that base peasant.

Enter the KING, GAVESTON, and KENT.

Edw. What, are you moved that Gaveston sits here? It is our pleasure, and we will have it so.

1 Scene: a street.

Scene: the New Temple (cf. 11. 74-5 of scene ii.). At the entrance of the king we are to suppose a change of scene.

Lan. Your grace doth well to place him by your side, 10 For nowhere else the new earl is so safe.

E. Mor. What man of noble birth can brook this sight?

Quam male conveniunt !1

See what a scornful look the peasant casts!

Pem. Can kingly lions fawn on creeping ants?
War. Ignoble vassal, that like Phaeton

Aspir'st unto the guidance of the sun.

Y. Mor. Their downfall is at hand, their forces down: We will not thus be faced and over-peered.

Edw. Lay hands on 2 that traitor Mortimer!

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E. Mor. Lay hands on that traitor Gaveston!
Kent. Is this the duty that you owe your king?
War. We know our duties-let him know his peers.
Edw. Whither will you bear him? Stay, or ye shall

die.

E. Mor. We are no traitors; therefore threaten not. Gav. No, threaten not, my lord, but pay them home! Were I a king

Y. Mor. Thou villain, wherefore talk'st thou of a king, That hardly art a gentleman by birth?

Edw. Were he a peasant, being my minion,

I'll make the proudest of you stoop to him.
Lan. My lord, you may not thus disparage us.
Away, I say, with hateful Gaveston.

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1 Was the poet thinking of Ovid, 'Non bene conveniunt,' &c. Met. ii. 846?"-Dyce.

* Perhaps we should read "upon" but "traitor" may be pronounced as a trisyllable by inserting a vowel sound before the first r.

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