Forbeare to levie Armes against the King.
Mor.ju.
I, if words will serve, if not, I must.
Enter Gaveston and the Earle of Kent.
Edmond the mighty Prince of Lancaster,
That hath more Earldomes then an Asse can beare,
And both the Mortimers two goodly men,
With Guy of Warwicke that redoubted Knight,
Are gone towards Lambeth, there let them remaine. Exeunt.
Enter Nobles.
Heere is the forme of Gavestons exile:
May it please your Lordship to subscribe your name.
Bish.
Give me the Paper.
Lan.
Quicke quicke my Lord:
I long to write my name.
War.
But I long more to see him banisht hence.
Mor.ju.
The name of Mortimer shall fright the King,
Unlesse he be declind from that base Pesant.
Enter the King and Gaveston.
What? are you mov'd that Gaveston sits heere?
It is our pleasure, we will have it so.
Lan.
Your Grace doth well to place him by your side,
For no where else the new Earle is so safe.
Mor.se.
What man of noble birth can brook this sight?
Quam male conveniunt:
See what a scornefull looke the Pesant casts.
Penb.
Can Kingly Lyons fawne on creeping Ants?
War.
Ignoble Vassall that like Phæton,
Aspir'st unto the guidance of the Sunne.
Mor.ju.
Their downfall is at hand, their forces down,
We will not thus be fac'd and over-peer'd.
Edw.
Lay hands on that Traytor Mortimer.
Mor.se.
Lay hands on that Traytor Gaveston.
Kent.
Is this the duty that you owe your King?
War.
We know our duties, let him know his Peeres.
Edw.
Whither will you beare him, stay or yee shall die,
Mor.se.
We are no traytors, therefore threaten not.
Gav.
No, threaten not my Lord, but pay them home,
Were I a King———
Mor.
