And is this true, to call him home againe?
Such reasons make white black, and darke night day.
Mor.ju.
My Lord of Lancaster marke the respect.
Lan.
In no respect can contraries be true.
Qu.
Yet good my Lord heare what he can alledge.
War.
All that he speakes is nothing, we are resolv'd.
Mor.ju.
Doe you not wish that Gaveston were dead?
Penb.
I would he were.
Mor.ju.
Why then my Lord, give mee but leave to speake.
Mor.se.
But Nephew do not play the Sophister.
Mor.ju.
This which I urge is of a burning zeale
To mend the King, and do our Country good:
Know you not Gaveston hath store of Gold,
Which may in Ireland purchase him such friends,
As he will front the mightiest of us all,
And whereas he shall live and be belov'd,
Tis hard for us to worke his overthrow.
War.
Marke you but that my Lord of Lancaster.
Mor.ju.
But were he here detested as he is,
How easily might some base slave be subornd,
To greete his Lordship with a Poniard,
And none so much as blame the murther,
But rather praise him for that brave attempt.
And in the Chronicle, enrowle his name,
For purging of the Realme of such a plague.
Penb.
He saith true.
Lan.
I, but how chance this was not done before?
Mor.ju.
Because my Lords, it was not thought upon:
Nay more, when he shall know it lies in us,
To banish him, and then to call him home,
Twill make him vaile the top-flag of his pride,
And feare to offend the meanest noble man.
Mor.se.
But how if he do not Nephew?
Mor.ju.
Then may we with some colour rise in armes,
For howsoever we have borne it out,
Tis treason to be up against the King,
So shall we have the people on our side,
Which for his fathers sake leane to the King,
But
