Twould levie men enough to anger you,
We never beg but use such prayers as these.
Edw.
Shall I still be haunted thus?
Mor.
Nay, now you are here alone, ile speake my mind.
Lan.
And so will I, and then my Lord farewell.
Mor.
The idle Triumphs, Maskes, lascivious shewes,
And prodigall gifts bestowed on Gaveston,
Have drawne thy treasury dry, and made thee weake,
The murmuring Commons over-stretched hath.
Lan.
Looke for Rebellion, looke to be depos'd,
Thy Garrisons are beaten out of France,
And lame and poore, lye groning at the Gates,
The wilde Oneyle, with swarmes of Irish Kernes,
Lives uncontrol'd within the English pale,
Unto the walls of Yorke the Scots made rode,
And unresisted drave away rich spoyles.
Mor.ju.
The hauty Dane commands the narrow Seas,
While in the Harbor ride thy Ships unrig'd.
Lan.
What forraine Prince sends thee Embassadors?
Mor.ju.
Who loves thee? but a sott of flatterers.
Lan.
Thy gentle Queene, sole sister to Valoys,
Complaines, that thou hast left her all forlorne.
Mor.ju.
Thy Court is naked, being bereft of those,
That makes a King seeme glorious to the world,
I meane the Peeres, whom thou shouldst dearely love:
Libels are cast against thee in the streete,
Ballads and rimes made of thy overthrow.
Lan.
The Northren borderers seeing their houses burnt
Their wives and Children slaine, runne up and downe
Cursing the name of thee and Gaveston.
Mor.
When wert thou in the field with banners spread?
But once, and then thy Souldiers marcht like Players,
With garish robes, not armour; and thy selfe
Bedaub'd with Gold, rode laughing at the rest,
Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest,
Where womens favours hung like labels downe.
Lan.
And therefore came it, that the fleering Scots,
To Englands high disgrace, have made this Jigge,
Maids
