ACT II.

SCENE I. A Hall in the Earl of Glocester's Castle.

Enter the younger SPENSER and BALDOCK.

Bald. Spenser,

Seeing that our lord the Earl of Glocester's dead,
Which of the nobles dost thou mean to serve ?

Y. Spen. Not Mortimer, nor any of his side,
Because the king and he are enemies.
Baldock, learn this of me: a factious lord
Shall hardly do himself good, much less us;
But he that hath the favour of a king
May with one word advance us while we live.
The liberal Earl of Cornwall is the man
On whose good fortune Spenser's hope depends.

Bald. What, mean you, then, to be his follower?
Y. Spen. No, his companion; for he loves me well,
And would have once preferr'd me to the king.

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Bald. But he is banish'd; there's small hope of him. 15 Y. Spen. Ay, for a while; but, Baldock, mark the end. A friend of mine told me in secrecy

That he's repeal'd, and sent for back again;

And even now a post came from the court
With letters to our lady from the king;

And as she read she smil'd; which makes me think
It is about her lover Gaveston.

Bald. 'Tis like enough; for since he was exil'd
She neither walks abroad, nor comes in sight.
But I had thought the match had been broke off,
And that his banishment had chang'd her mind.

Y. Spen. Our lady's first love is not wavering;
My life for thine she will have Gaveston.

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Bald.

Then hope I by her means to be preferr'd, Having read unto her since she was a child.

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Y. Spen. Then, Baldock, you must cast the scholar off, And learn to court it like a gentleman.

'Tis not a black coat and a little band,

A velvet cap'd cloak, fac'd before with serge,
And smelling to a nosegay all the day,

Or holding of a napkin in your hand,

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Or saying a long grace at a table's end,

Or making low legs to a nobleman,

Or looking downward with your eyelids close,

And saying, 'Truly, an 't may please your honour,'
Can get you any favour with great men :

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You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute,

And now and then stab, as occasion serves.

Bald. Spenser, thou know'st I hate such formal toys, And use them but of mere hypocrisy.

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Mine old lord whiles he liv'd was so precise,

That he would take exceptions at my buttons,

And, being like pins' heads, blame me for the bigness;
Which made me curate-like in mine attire,
Though inwardly licentious enough,

And apt for any kind of villany.

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I am none of these common pedants, I,

That cannot speak without propterea quod.

Y. Spen. But one of those that saith, quandoquidem,

And hath a special gift to form a verb.

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Bald. Leave off this jesting; here my lady comes.

Enter KING EDWARD'S Niece.

Niece. The grief for his exile was not so much
As is the joy of his returning home.

This letter came from my sweet Gaveston :
What need'st thou, love, thus to excuse thyself?

I know thou couldst not come and visit me:

I will not long be from thee, though I die—
This argues the entire love of my lord ;-

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[Reads.

When I forsake thee, death seize on my heart! [Reads.

But stay thee here where Gaveston shall sleep.

[Puts the letter into her bosom.

Now to the letter of my lord the king.

He wills me to repair unto the court,

And meet my Gaveston: why do I stay,
Seeing that he talks thus of my marriage-day?—
Who's there? Baldock!

See that my coach be ready, I must hence.

Bald. It shall be done, madam.

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[Exit BALDOCK.

Niece. And meet me at the park-pale presently.

Spenser, stay you and bear me company,

For I have joyful news to tell thee of;
My lord of Cornwall is a-coming over,
And will be at the court as soon as we.

Spen. I knew the king would have him home again.
Niece. If all things sort out, as I hope they will,
Thy service, Spenser, shall be thought upon.
Spen. I humbly thank your ladyship.

Niece.

Come, lead the way; I long till I am there.

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[Exeunt.

SCENE II. Tynmouth Castle.

Enter KING EDWARD, QUEEN ISABELLA, KENT, LANCASTER, the younger MORTIMER, WARWICK, PEMBROKE, and Attendants.

K. Edw.

The wind is good, I wonder why he stays;

I fear me he is wreck'd upon the sea.

Q. Isab. Look, Lancaster, how passionate he is, And still his mind runs on his minion!

Lan. My lord,

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K. Edw. How now! what news? is Gaveston arrived?

Y. Mor. Nothing but Gaveston! what means your grace?

You have matters of more weight to think upon;

The King of France sets foot in Normandy.

K. Edw. A trifle! we 'll expel him when we please. 10 But tell me, Mortimer, what's thy device

Against the stately triumph we decreed?

Y. Mor.

A homely one, my lord; not worth the telling. K. Edw. Pray thee, let me know it.

Y. Mor. But, seeing you're so desirous, thus it is: 15 A lofty cedar-tree, fair flourishing,

On whose top-branches kingly eagles perch,
And by the bark a canker creeps me up,
And gets into the highest bough of all;
The motto, Æque tandem.

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K. Edw. And what is yours, my lord of Lancaster? Lan. My lord, mine's more obscure than Mortimer's. Pliny reports there is a flying-fish

Which all the other fishes deadly hate,

And therefore, being pursu'd, it takes the air:

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No sooner is it up, but there's a fowl

That seizeth it: this fish, my lord, I bear;

And in your shields display your rancorous minds?
What call you this but private libelling

Against the Earl of Cornwall and my brother?

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Q. Isab. Sweet husband, be content, they all love you.
Edw. They love me not that hate my Gaveston.

I am that cedar; shake me not too much;
And you the eagles; soar ye ne'er so high,
I have the jesses that will pull you down ;
And Æque tandem shall that canker cry
Unto the proudest peer of Britainy.
Though thou compar'st him to a flying-fish,
And threat'nest death whether he rise or fall,

'Tis not the hugest monster of the sea,
Nor foulest harpy, that shall swallow him.

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Y. Mor. If in his absence thus he favours him,

What will he do whenas he shall be present?

Lan. That shall we see; look where his lordship comes!

Welcome to Tynmouth! welcome to thy friend!
Thy absence made me droop and pine away;
For, as the lovers of fair Danae,

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When she was lock'd up in a brazen tower,
Desir'd her more, and wax'd outrageous,
So did it fare with me: and now thy sight
Is sweeter far than was thy parting hence
Bitter and irksome to my sobbing heart.

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Gav. Sweet lord and king, your speech preventeth

mine;

Yet have I words left to express my joy:

The shepherd, nipt with biting winter's rage,
Frolics not more to see the painted spring,
Than I do to behold your majesty.

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K. Edw. Will none of you salute my Gaveston ?
Lan. Salute him! yes.-Welcome, Lord Chamberlain !
Y. Mor. Welcome is the good Earl of Cornwall!
War. Welcome, Lord Governor of the Isle of Man !
Pen. Welcome, Master Secretary!
Kent. Brother, do you hear them?

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K. Edw. Still will these earls and barons use me thus.
Gav. My lord, I cannot brook these injuries.
Q. Isab. Ay me, poor soul, when these begin to jar!

[Aside.

K. Edw. Return it to their throats; I'll be thy warrant.
Gav. Base, leaden earls, that glory in your birth,
Go sit at home and eat your tenants' beef;
And come not here to scoff at Gaveston,
Whose mounting thoughts did never creep so low
As to bestow a look on such as you.

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