Revives poore Gaveston.
War.
No, it needeth not,
Arundell, we will gratifie the King
In other matters, he must pardon us in this,
Souldiers away with him.
Gave.
Why my Lord of Warwick,
Will not these delayes beget my hopes?
I know it Lords, it is this life you aime at,
Yet grant King Edward this.
Mor.ju.
Shalt thou appoint what we shall grant?
Souldiers away with him:
Thus weele gratifie the King,
Weele send his head by thee, let him bestow
His teares on that, for that is all he gets,
Of Gaveston, or else his senselesse trunke.
Lan.
Not so my Lord, lest he bestow more cost
In burying him, then he hath ever earned.
Arun.
My Lords, it is his Majesties request,
And in the honour of a King he sweares,
He will but talke with him and send him backe.
War.
When, can you tell? Arundell no, we wot
He that the care of Realme-remits,
And drives his Nobles to these exigents
For Gaveston, will if he seize him once,
Violate any promise to possesse him.
Arun.
Then if you will not trust his Grace in keepe,
My Lords, I will be pledge for his returne.
Mor.ju.
It is honourable in thee to offer this,
But for we know thou art a noble Gentleman,
We will not wrong thee so,
To make away a true man for a theefe.
Gave.
How meanst thou Mortimer? that is over base.
Mor.
Away base Groome, robber of Kings renowne,
Question with thy companions and mates.
Pen.
My Lord Mortimer, and you my Lords each one,
To gratifie the Kings request therein,
Touching the sending of this Gaveston,
Because his Majesty so earnestly
Desires
