Why should'st thou kneel? Know'st thou not who I am?

Thy friend, thyself, another Gaveston! Not Hylas was more mourn'd of Hercules,

Than thou hast been of me since thy exile.

Gar. And since I went from hence, no soul in hell

Hath felt more torment than poor Gaveston.

K. Edw. I know it.-Brother, welcome home my friend.

Now let the treacherous 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. K. 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 envíed,
I'll give thee more; for, but to honor
thee,

Is Edward pleas'd with kingly regiment." Fear'st thou thy person? Thou shalt have a guard.

Wantest thou gold? Go to my treasury. Would'st thou be lov'd and fear'd? Receive my seal;

Save or condemn, and in our name command

Whatso thy mind affects, or fancy likes. Gav. 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

K. Edw. Whither goes my lord of Coventry so fast?

B. of Cov. To celebrate your father's exequies.

But is that wicked Gaveston return'd? K. 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 should'st not plod one foot beyond this place.

B. of Cov. 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.

K. 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. K. 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 chap

8 fearest for.

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 11 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 Lancaster?

Y. Mor. Wherefore is Guy of Warwick discontent?

Lan. That villain Gaveston is made an earl.

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 an Attendant.

War. Here comes my lord of Canterbury's grace.

Lan.

His countenance bewrays he is displeas'd.

A. of Cant. First were his sacred garments rent and torn,

Then laid they violent hands upon him; next

Himself imprisoned, and his goods asseiz'd;

This certify the Pope;-away, take horse.

That sly inveigling Frenchman we'll exile,

Or lose our lives; and yet, ere that day

come,

13 are angered at.

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 heartblood shall maintain.

War. Think you that we can brook this upstart pride?

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

A. of Cant. Why are you 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 overdaring peers?

Ere my sweet Gaveston shall part from me,

This isle shall fleet 15 upon the ocean, And wander to the unfrequented Inde. A. 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. Aye, 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.

A. 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.

15 float.

K. Edw. (Aside.) It boots me not to threat; I must speak fair.The legate of the Pope will be obey'd. 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. A. of Cant. Nothing shall alter us, we are resolv'd.

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,

For 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 slaughtered priests make Tiber's channel swell,

And banks rais'd higher with their sepulchres!

As for the peers, that back the clergy thus,

If I be king, not one of them shall live. Re-enter Gaveston.

Gav. My lord, I hear it whispered everywhere,

That I am banish'd, and must fly the land.

K. Edw. 'Tis true, sweet Gaveston-O! were it false!

The legate of the Pope will have it so, And thou must hence, or I shall be depos'd.

But I will reign to be reveng'd of them; And therefore, sweet friend, take it pa

tiently.

Live where thou wilt, I'll send thee gold enough;

And long thou shalt not stay, or if thou dost,

I'll come to thee; my love shall ne'er decline.

Gav. Is all my hope turn'd to this hell of grief?

K. Edw. Rend not my heart with thy too piercing words:

Thou from this land, I from myself am banish'd.

Gav. To go from hence grieves not poor Gaveston;

But to forsake you, in whose gracious looks

The blessedness of Gaveston remains,
For nowhere else seeks he felicity.

K. Edw. And only this torments my wretched soul

That, whether I will or no, thou must depart.

Be governor of Ireland in my stead, And there abide till fortune call thee home.

Here take my picture, and let me wear thine;

(They exchange pictures.)

O, might I keep thee here as I do this, Happy were I! but now most miserable! Gav. T is something to be pitied of a king.

K. Edw. Thou shalt not hence-I'll hide thee, Gaveston.

Gav. I shall be found, and then 't will grieve me more.

K. Edw. Kind words and mutual talk makes our grief greater;

Therefore, with dumb embracement, let us part.

Stay, Gaveston, I cannot leave thee thus. Gav. For every look, my lord drops down a tear.

Seeing I must go, do not renew my sor