390

E. Mor. Nephew, I must to Scotland; thou stay'st here. 385 Leave now t' oppose thyself against the king. Thou seest by nature he is mild and calm, And, seeing his mind so dotes on Gaueston, Let him without controlment have his will. The mightiest kings have had their miniöns: Great Alexander loved Hephestion; The conquering Hercules for Hylas wept; And for Patroclus stern Achilles droopt. And not kings only, but the wisest men: The Roman Tully loved Octavius; Grave Socrates wild Alcibiades. Then let his grace, whose youth is flexible, And promiseth as much as we can wish,

395

Freely enjoy that vain, light-headed earl;

For riper years will wean him from such toys.

400

Y. Mor. Uncle, his wanton humour grieves not me;

But this I scorn, that one so basely born

Should by his sovereign's favour grow so pert,

And riot it with the treasure of the realm.

While soldiers mutiny for want of pay,

405

He wears a lord's revénue on his back,

And Midas-like, he jets it in the court,

With base outlandish cullions at his heels,

Whose proud fantastic liveries make such show,
As if that Proteus, god of shapes, appear'd.

410

I have not seen a dapper Jack so brisk;
He wears a short Italian hooded cloak,
Larded with pearl, and, in his Tuscan cap,
A jewel of more value than the crown.
Whiles other walk below, the king and he
From out a window laugh at such as we,
And flout our train, and jest at our attire.
Uncle, 'tis this that makes me impatiënt.

415

E. Mor. But, nephew, now you see the king is changed. Y. Mor. Then so am I, and live to do him service:

420

But whiles I have a sword, a hand, a heart,

I will not yield to any such upstárt.

You know my mind; come, uncle, let's away.

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-Hall in GLOSTER'S Mansion.

Enter YOUNG SPENCER and BALDOCK.

Bald. Spencer,
Seeing that our lord th' Earl of Gloster's dead,
Which of the nobles dost thou mean to serve?

Y. Spen. Not Mortimer, nor any of his side ;
Because the king and he are enemies.
Baldock, learn this of me, a factious lord
Shall hardly do himself good, much less us;
But he that hath the favour of a king,

1309.

May with one word advance us while we live :
The liberal Earl of Cornwall is the man
On whose good fortune Spencer's hope depends.
Bald. What, mean you then to be his follower?
Y. Spen. No, his companion; for he loves me well,
And would have once prefer'd me to the king.

Bald. But he is banisht; there's small hope of him.
Y. Spen. Ay, for a while; but, Baldock, mark the end.

A friend of mine told me in secrecy

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ΙΟ

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That he's repeal'd, and sent for back again;

And even now a post came from the court
With letters to our lady from the king;

And as she read she smiled, which makes me think
It is about her lover Gaueston.

Bald. 'Tis like enough; for since he was exiled
She neither walks abroad, nor comes in sight.
But I had thought the match had been broke off,
And that his banishment had changed her mind.

Y. Spen. Our lady's first love is not wavering;
My life for thine she will have Gaueston.

Bald. Then hope I by her means to be prefer'd, Ha'ing read unto her since she was a child.

Y. Spen. Then, Baldock, you must cast the scholar off,

And learn to court it like a gentleman.

'Tis not a black coat and a little band,

A velvet caped cloak, faced before with serge,
And smelling to a nosegay all the day,
Or holding of a napkin in your hand,
Or saying a long grace at a table's end,
Or making low legs to a nobleman,

Or looking downward with your eyelids close,

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And saying, "Truly, an't may please your honour,"
Can get you any favour with great men :

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You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute,

And now and then stab, as occasion serves.

Bald. Spencer, thou know'st I hate such formal toys, And use them but of mere hypocrisy.

45

Mine old lord whiles he lived was so precise,

That he would take exceptions at my buttons,

And being like pins' heads, blame me for the bigness;
Which made me curate-like in mine attire,
Though inwardly licentious enough,

50

And apt for any kind of villainy.

I am none of these common pedants, I,

That cannot speak without propterea quod.

Y. Spen. But one of those that saith, quandoquidem,

And hath a special gift to form a verb.

55

Bald. Leave off this jesting, here my lady comes

Enter the LADY, the KING'S niece.

Lady. The grief for his exíle was not so much As is the joy of his returning home.

This letter came from my sweet Gaueston :

What need'st thou, love, thus to excuse thyself?
I know thou couldst not come and visit me:

I will not long be from thee, though I die.
This argues the entire love of my lord;

60

[Reads.

When I forsake thee, death seize on my heart:

[Reads.

But stay thee here where Gaueston shall sleep.

65

Now to the letter of my lord the king.—

He wills me to repair unto the court,

And meet my Gaueston: why do I stay,

Seeing that he talks thus of my marriage-day?
Who's there? Baldock?

See that my coach be ready, I must hence.

Bald. It shall be done, madam.

Lady. And meet me at the park-pale presently.

Spencer, stay you and bear me company,

Spen. I knew the king would have him home again.
Lady. If all things sort out, as I hope they will,

Thy service, Spencer, shall be thought upon.
Spen. I humbly thank your ladyship.

80

Lady. Come, lead the way; I long till I am there. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Before Tynemouth Castle.

1309-14.

Enter EDWARD, the QUEEN, LANCASTER, YOUNG MORTIMER, WARWICK, PEMBROKE, KENT, and Attendants. Edw. The wind is good, I wonder why he stays;

I fear me he is wrackt upon the sea.

Queen. Look, Lancaster, how passionate he is, And still his mind runs on his miniön !

Lan. My lord.

Edw. How now! what news? is Gaueston arrived?

Y. Mor. Nothing but Gaueston! what means your grace?

You've matters of more weight to think upon;

The King of France sets foot in Normandy.

Edw. A trifle! we'll expel him when we please.

But tell me, Mortimer, what's thy device
Against the stately triumph we decreed?
Y. Mor. A homely one, my lord;

Not worth the telling.

Edw. Pray thee let me know it.

Y. Mor. But, seeing you're so desirous, thus it is :

A lofty cedar-tree, fair flourishing,

On whose top branches kingly eagles perch,

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And by the bark a canker creeps me up,

And gets into the highest bough of all :

Edw. And what is yours, my lord of Lancaster?

The motto, que tandem.

Lan. My lord, mine's more obscure than Mortimer's.

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Pliny reports there is [a] flying fish

Which all the other fishes deadly hate,

And therefore, being pursued, it takes the air :

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No sooner is it up, but there's a fowl

That seizeth it: this fish, my lord, I bear,

The motto this: Undique mors est.

Kent. Proud Mortimer! ungentle Lancaster!

Is this the love you bear your sovereign?

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Is this the fruit your reconcilement bears?

Can you in words make show of amity,

And in your shields display your rancorous minds!
What call you this but private libelling

Against the Earl of Cornwall and my brother?

35

Queen. Sweet husband, be content, they all love you.
Edw. They love me not that hate my Gaueston.

I am that cedar, shake me not too much;

And you the eagles; soar ye ne'er so high,

I have the jesses that will pull you down;
And Eque tandem shall that canker cry
Unto the proudest peer of Britainy.
Though thou compar'st him to a flying fish,
And threat'nest death whether he rise or fall,
'Tis not the hugest monster of the sea,
Nor foulest harpy that shall swallow him.

Y. Mor. If in his absence thus he favours him,
What will he do whenas he shall be present?

Lan. That shall we see; look where his lordship comes.

Enter GAUESTON.

Edw. My Gaueston.

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Welcome to Tynemouth! welcome to thy friend!
Thy absence made me droop and pine away;
For, as the lovers of fair Danae,

When she was lockt up in a brazen tower,
Desired her more, and waxt outrageous,
So did it fare with me: and now thy sight
Is sweeter far than was thy parting hence
Bitter and irksome to my sobbing heart.

Gau. Sweet lord and king, your speech preventeth mine,

Yet have I words left to express my joy:

The shepherd nipt with biting winter's rage
Frolics not more to see the painted spring,
Than I do to behold your majesty.

Edw. Will none of you salute my Gaueston?

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Lan. Salute him? yes; welcome, Lord Chamberlain! 65
Y. Mor. Welcóme is the good Earl of Cornwall!

War. Welcome, Lord Go'ernor of the Isle of Man !
Pem. Welcome, Mas. Sec't'ry!

Kent. Brother, do you hear them?

Edw. Still will these earls and barons use me thus.
Gau. My lord, I cannot brook these injuries.
Queen. Ay me, poor soul, when these begin to jar!

Edw. Return it to their throats, I'll be thy warrant.
Gau. Base, leaden earls, that glory in your birth,
Go sit at home and eat your tenants' beef;
And come not here to scoff at Gaueston,
Whose mounting thoughts did never creep so low
As to bestow a look on such as you.

Lan. Yet I disdain not to do this for you.
Edw. Treason! treason! where's the traitor?
Pem. Here! here! king.

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[Aside.

75

[Draws.