Proud Rome, that hatchest such imperial grooms,
With these thy superstitious taper-lights,
Wherewith thy antichristian churches blaze,
I'll fire thy crazèd buildings, and enforce
The papal towers* to kiss the lowly ground,
With slaughter'd priests maket 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 whisper'd every where, 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 patiently.

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 toopiercing 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 no where 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. 'Tis something to be pitied of a king.
K. Edw. Thou shalt not hence; I'll hide thee,
Gaveston.

*The papal towers, &c.] The modern editors print "Thy papal towers," &c: but, towards the end of The Massacre at Paris, Marlowe has,

"I'll fire his crazed buildings, and incense

The papal towers to kiss the holy [read "lowly "] earth.” + make] Old eds. "may."

Re-enter Gaveston] Qy. "Enter Gaveston,"-a change of place being supposed here?

§ were it] So 4to 1598.-2tos 1612, 1622, were it were

it."

Gav. I shall be found, and then 'twill 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 love drops* down a

tear:

Seeing I must go, do not renew my sorrow.

K. Edw. The time is little that thou hast to

stay,

And, therefore, give me leave to look my fill.
But, come, sweet friend; I'll bear thee on thy

way.

Gav. The peers will frown.

K. Edw. I passt not for their anger. Come, let's go :

O, that we might as well return as go!

Enter QUEEN ISABELLA.

Q. Isab. Whither goes my lord?

K. Edw. Fawn not on me, French strumpet; get thee gone!

Q. Isab. On whom but on my husband should I fawn?

Gav. On Mortimer; with whom, ungentle queen,

say no more-judge you the rest, my lord.
Q. Isab. In saying this, thou wrong'st me,
Gaveston:

Is't not enough that thou corrupt'st my lord,
And art a bawd to his affections,

But thou must call mine honour thus in question?

Gav. I mean not so; your grace must pardon

me.

K. Edw. Thou art too familiar with that Mortimer,

And by thy means is Gaveston exil'd:
But I would wish thee reconcile the lords,
Or thou shalt ne'er be reconcil'd to me.

Q. Isab. Your highness knows, it lies not in my

power.

K. Edw. Away, then! touch me not.-Come, Gaveston.

Q. Isab. Villain, 'tis thou that robb'st me of my lord.

Gav. Madam, 'tis you that rob me of my lord.

* my love drops] Old eds. "my lord drops."

t pass] i. e. care.

Enter Queen Isabella] Old eds. "Enter Edmund [i. e. Kent) and Queene Isabell"; but the entrance of Kent seems to have been marked here by mistake.

K. Edw. Speak not unto her: let her droop and pine.

Q. Isab. Wherein, my lord, have I deserv'd

these words?

Witness the tears that Isabella sheds,
Witness this heart, that, sighing for thee, breaks,
How dear my lord is to poor Isabel !

K. Edw. And witness heaven how dear thou

art to me!

There weep; for, till my Gaveston be repeal'd, Assure thyself thou com'st not in my sight.

[Exeunt KING EDWARD and GAVESTON.

Q. Isab. O miserable and distressèd queen! Would, when I left sweet France, and was embark'd,

That charming Circe,* walking on the waves,
Had chang'd my shape! or at + the marriage-day
The cup of Hymen had been full of poison!
Or with those arms, that twin'd about my neck,

I had been stifled, and not liv'd to see
The king my lord thus to abandon me !
Like frantic Juno, will I fill the earth
With ghastly murmur of my sighs and cries;
For never doted Jove on Ganymede

So much as he on cursèd Gaveston :
But that will more exasperate his wrath;
I must entreat him, I must speak him fair,
And be a means to call home Gaveston:
And yet he'll ever dote on Gaveston;
And so am I for ever miserable.

Re-enter LANCASTER, WARWICK, PEMBROKE, the elder MORTIMER, and the younger MORTIMER.

Lan. Look, where the sister of the king of France §

Sits wringing of her hands, and beats her breast! War. The king, I fear, hath ill-entreated her. Pem. Hard is the heart that injures such a saint.

Y. Mor. I know 'tis 'long of Gaveston she weeps.

E. Mor. Why, he is gone.

Circe] Old eds. "Circes " (the genitive of proper names being formerly often put for the nominative). + at] So 4to 1598.-2tos 1612, 1622, "that." Re-enter Lancaster, &c.] Perhaps it should be merely "Enter Lancaster," &c: see note, p. 189.

$ the sister of the king of France] Gilchrist (apud Dodsley's 0. P.) queries "the daughter of the king of France"? but we find afterwards in this play,"The gentle queen, sole sister to Valois," &c.

and,

"sith th' ungentle king

Of France refuseth to give aid of arms

To this distressèd queen, his sister, here," &c.

Y. Mor. Madam, how fares your grace? Q. Isab. Ah, Mortimer, now breaks the king's hate forth,

And he confesseth that he loves me not!

Y. Mor. Cry quittance, madam, then, and love not him.

Q. Isab. No, rather will I die a thousand deaths: And yet I love in vain; he'll ne'er love me. Lan. Fear ye not, madam; now his minion's gone,

His wanton humour will be quickly left.

Q. Isab. O, never, Lancaster! I am enjoin'd To sue unto you all for his repeal : This wills my lord, and this must I perform, Or else be banish'd from his highness' presence. Lan. For his repeal, madam! he comes not

back,

Unless the sea cast up his shipwreck'd body.

War. And to behold so sweet a sight as that, There's none here but would run his horse to death.

Y. Mor. But, madam, would you have us call him home?

Q. Isab. Ay, Mortimer; for, till he be restor❜d, The angry king hath banish'd me the court; And, therefore, as thou lov'st and tender'st me, Be thou my advocate unto these peers.

Y. Mor. What, would you have me plead for Gaveston?

E Mor. Plead for him that will, I am resolv'd. Lan. And so am I, my lord: dissuade the

queen.

Q Isab O, Lancaster, let him dissuade the king! For 'tis against my will he should return.

War. Then speak not for him; let the peasant go. Q. Isab. 'Tis for myself I speak, and not for

him.

Pem. No speaking will prevail; and therefore

cease.

Y. Mor. Fair queen, forbear to angle for the fish Which, being caught, strikes him that takes it dead;

I mean that vile torpedo, Gaveston,
That now,

hope, floats on the Irish seas.

Q. Isab. Sweet Mortimer, sit down by me a while,

And I will tell thee reasons of such weight
As thou wilt soon subscribe to his repeal.

Y. Mor. It is impossible: but speak your mind. Q. Isab. Then thus;-but none shall hear it but ourselves. [Talks to Y. MOR. apart.

* prevail] i. e. avail

Lan. My lords, albeit the queen win Mortimer, Will you be resolute, and hold with me?

E. Mor. Not I, against my nephew.

Pem. Fear not; the queen's words cannot alter him.

Pem. He saith true.

Lan. Ay, but how chance this was not done before?

Y. Mor. Because, my lords, it was not thought

upon.

Lan. And see how coldly his looks make denial! War. She smiles: now, for my life, his mind is chang'd!

Lan. I'll rather lose his friendship, I, than grant.

Y. Mor. Well, of necessity it must be so.My lords, that I abhor base Gaveston I hope your honours make no question, And therefore, though I plead for his repeal, 'Tis not for his sake, but for our avail; Nay, for the realm's behoof, and for the king's. Lan. Fie, Mortimer, dishonour not thyself! Can this be true, 'twas good to banish him? And is this true, to call him home again? Such reasons make white black, and dark night day.

Y. Mor. My Lord of Lancaster, mark the respect.

Lan. In no respect can contraries be true.

Q. Isab. Yet, good my lord, hear what he can allege.

War. All that he speaks is nothing; we are resolv'd.

Y. Mor. Do you not wish that Gaveston were dead?

Pem. I would he were !

Y. Mor. Why, then, my lord, give me but leave to speak.

E. Mor. But, nephew, do not play the sophister. Y. Mor. This which I urge is of a burning zeal 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 work his overthrow.

War. Mark you but that, my Lord of Lancaster. Y. Mor. But, were he here, detested as he is, How easily might some base slave be suborn'd To greet his lordship with a poniard, And none so much as blame the murderer,‡ But rather praise him for that brave attempt, And in the chronicle enrol his name For purging of the realm of such a plague!

* respect] i. e. consideration. whereas] i. e. where.

1 murderer] So 4to 1598.-2tos 1612, 1622, "murther. "

Y. Mor. Then may we with some colour rise in arms;

For, howsoever we have borne it out,
'Tis treason to be up against the king;
So shall we have the people of our side,
Which, for his father's sake, lean to the king,
But cannot brook a night-grown mushroom,‡
Such a one as my Lord of Cornwall is,
Should bear us down of the nobility:
And, when the commons and the nobles join,
'Tis not the king can buckler Gaveston;
We'll pull him from the strongest hold he hath.
My lords, if to perform this I be slack,
Think me as base a groom as Gaveston.
Lan. On that condition Lancaster will grant.
War. And so will Pembroke and I.
E. Mor. And I.

Y. Mor. In this I count me highly gratified, And Mortimer will rest at your command.

Q. Isab. And when this favour Isabel forgets,
Then let her live abandon'd and forlorn.-
But see, in happy time, my lord the king,
Having brought the Earl of Cornwall on his way,
Is new § return'd. This news will glad him
much :

Yet not so much as me; I love him more
Than he can Gaveston: would he lov'd me
But half so much! then were I treble-blest.

Q. Isab. Hark, how he harps upon his minion!
K. Edw. My heart is as an anvil unto sorrow,
Which beats upon it like the Cyclops' hammers,
And with the noise turns up my giddy brain,
And makes me frantic for my Gaveston.
Ah, had some bloodless Fury rose from hell,
And with my kingly sceptre struck me dead,
When I was forc'd to leave my Gaveston!

Lan. Diablo, what passions call you these?
Q. Isab. My gracious lord, I come to bring you

news.

K. Edw. That you have parled with your Mortimer?

Q. Isab. That Gaveston, my lord, shall be repeal'd.

true.

Q. Isab. But will you love me, if you find it so? K. Edw. If it be so, what will not Edward do? Q. Isab. For Gaveston, but not for Isabel.

K. Edw. For thee, fair queen, if thou lov'st

Gaveston;

I'll hang a golden tongue about thy + neck, Seeing thou hast pleaded with so good success.

Q. Isab. No other jewels hang about my neck Than these, my lord; nor let me have more wealth

Than I may fetch from this rich treasury.
O, how a kiss revives poor Isabel !

K. Edw. Once more receive my hand; and let this be

A second marriage 'twixt thyself and me.

Q. Isab. And may it prove more happy than the first!

My gentle lord, bespeak these nobles fair,
That wait attendance for a gracious look,
And on their knees salute your majesty.

K. Edw. Courageous Lancaster, embrace thy king;

And, as gross vapours perish by the sun,
Even so let hatred with thy sovereign's smile :
Live thou with me as my companion.

Lan. This salutation overjoys my heart.
K. Edw. Warwick shall be my chiefest coun-
sellor :

These silver hairs will more adorn my court
Than gaudy silks or rich embroidery.
Chide me, sweet Warwick, if I go astray.