K. Edw. What, are you mov'd that Gaveston sits here?

         It is our pleasure; we will have it so.

      Lan. Your grace doth well to place him by your side,

         For nowhere else the new earl is so safe.

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

         Quam male conveniunt!—

         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 fac'd and over-peer'd.

      K. Edw. Lay hands on that traitor Mortimer!

      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.

      K. 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?

      K. 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!

      E. Mor. And with the Earl of Kent that favours him.

                                         [Attendants remove Gaveston and Kent.

      K. Edw. Nay, then, lay violent hands upon your king:

         Here, Mortimer, sit thou in Edward's throne;

         Warwick and Lancaster, wear you my crown.

         Was ever king thus over-rul'd as I?

      Lan. Learn, then, to rule us better, and the realm.

      Y. Mor. What we have done, our heart-blood shall maintain.

      War. Think you that we can brook this upstart['s] pride?

      K. Edw. Anger and wrathful fury stops my speech.

      Archb. of Cant. Why are you not mov'd? be patient, my lord,

         And see what we your counsellors have done.

      Y. Mor. My lords, now let us all be resolute,

         And either have our wills, or lose our lives.

      K. Edw. Meet you for this, proud over-daring peers!

         Ere my sweet Gaveston shall part from me,

         This isle shall fleet upon the ocean,

         And wander to the unfrequented Inde.

      Archb. of Cant. You know that I am legate to the Pope:

         On your allegiance to the see of Rome,

         Subscribe, as we have done, to his exile.

      Y. Mor. Curse him, if he refuse; and then may we

         Depose him, and elect another king.

      K. Edw. Ay, there it goes! but yet I will not yield:

         Curse me, depose me, do the worst you can.

      Lan. Then linger not, my lord, but do it straight.

      Archb. of Cant. Remember how the bishop was abus'd:

         Either banish him that was the cause thereof,

         Or I will presently discharge these lords

         Of duty and allegiance due to thee.

      K. Edw. It boots me not to threat; I must speak fair:

         The legate of the Pope will be obey'd.– [Aside.

         My lord, you shall be Chancellor of the realm;

         Thou, Lancaster, High-Admiral of our fleet;

         Young Mortimer and his uncle shall be earls;

         And you, Lord Warwick, President of the North;

         And thou of Wales. If this content you not,

         Make several kingdoms of this monarchy,

         And share it equally amongst you all,

         So I may have some nook or corner left,

         To frolic with my dearest Gaveston.

      Archb. of Cant. Nothing shall alter us; we are resolv'd.

      Lan. Come, come, subscribe.

      Y. Mor. Why should you love him whom the world hates so?

      K. Edw. Because he loves me more than all the world.

         Ah, none but rude and savage-minded men

         Would seek the ruin of my Gaveston!

         You that be noble-born should pity him.

      War. You that are princely-born should shake him off:

         For shame, subscribe, and let the lown depart.

      E. Mor. Urge him, my lord.

      Archb. of Cant. Are you content to banish him the realm?

      K. Edw. I see I must, and therefore am content:

         Instead of ink, I'll write it with my tears. [Subscribes.

      Y. Mor. The king is love-sick for his minion.

      K. Edw. 'Tis done: and now, accursed hand, fall off!

      Lan. Give it me: I'll have it publish'd in the streets.

      Y. Mor. I'll see him presently despatch'd away.

      Archb. of Cant. Now is my heart at ease.

      War. And so is mine.

      Pem. This will be good news to the common sort.

      E. Mor. Be it or no, he shall not linger here.

      K. Edw. How fast they run to banish him I love!

         They would not stir, were it to do me good.

         Why should a king be subject to a priest?

         Proud Rome, that hatchest such imperial grooms,

         With these thy superstitious taper-lights,

         Wherewith thy antichristian churches blaze,

         I'll fire thy crazed buildings, and enforce

         The papal towers to kiss the lowly ground,

         With slaughter'd priests make Tiber's