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Yet lustie lords I have escapt your handes,

Your threats, your larums, and your hote pursutes,

And though devorsed from king Edwards eyes,

Yet liveth Pierce of Gaveston unsurprizd,

Breathing, in hope (malgrado all your beards,

That muster rebels thus against your king）

To see his royall soveraigne once againe.

Enter the Nobles.

Upon him souldiers, take away his weapons.

Thou proud disturber of thy countries peace,

Corrupter of thy king, cause of these broiles,

Base flatterer, yeeld, and were it not for shame,

Shame and dishonour to a souldiers name,

Upon my weapons point here shouldst thou fall,

And welter in thy goare.

Monster of men,

That like the Greekish strumpet traind to armes

And bloudie warres, so many valiant knights,

Looke for no other fortune wretch then death,

King Edward is not heere to buckler thee.

Warwicke. Lancaster, why talkst thou to the slave ?

Go souldiers take him hence, for by my sword,

His head shall off: Gaveston, short warning

Shall serve thy turne: it is our countries cause,

That here severelie we will execute

Upon thy person: hang him at a bough.

My Lord !

Souldiers, have him away:

But for thou wert the favorit of a King,

Thou shalt have so much honor at our hands.

I thanke you all my lords, then I perceive,

That heading is one, and hanging is the other,

And death is all.

Enter earle of Arundell.

How now my lord of Arundell?

My lords, king Edward greetes you all by me.

Arundell, say your message.

His majesty,

Hearing that you had taken Gaveston,

Intreateth you by me, yet but he may

See him before he dies, for why he saies,

And sends you word, he knowes that die he shall,

And if you gratifie his grace so farre,

He will be mindfull of the curtesie.

How now?

Renowmed Edward, how thy name

Revives poore Gaveston.

No, it needeth not.

Arundell, we will gratifie the king

In other matters, he must pardon us in this,

Souldiers away with him.

Why my Lord of Warwicke,

Will not these delaies beget my hopes?

I know it lords, it is this life you aime at,

Yet graunt king Edward this.

Shalt thou appoint

What we shall graunt? 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 sencelesse trunck.

Not so my Lord, least he bestow more cost,

In burying him, then he hath ever earned.

Arundell My lords, it is his majesties request,

And in the honor of a king he sweares,

He will but talke with him and send him backe.

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 seaze zease sees him once,

Violate any promise to possesse him.

Then if you will not trust his grace in keepe;

My lords, I will be pledge for his returne.

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.

How meanst thou Mortimer? that is over base.

Away base groome, robber of kings renowme,

Question with thy companions and thy mates.

My lord Mortimer, and you my lords each one,

To gratifie the kings request therein,

Touching the sending of this Gaveston,

Because his majestie so earnestlie

Desires to see the man before his death,

I will upon mine honor undertake

To carrie him, and bring him back againe,

Provided this, that you my lord of Arundell

Will joyne with me.

Warwicke.

Penbrooke, what wilt thou do?

Cause yet more bloudshed: is it not enough

That we have taken him, but must we now

Leave him on had-I-wist, and let him go ?

My lords, I will not over wooe your honors,

But if you dare trust Penbrooke with the prisoner,

Upon mine oath I will returne him back.

My lord of Lancaster, what say you in this ?

Why I say, let him go onPenbrookes word.

And you lord Mortimer ?

How say you my lord of Warwick ?

Nay, do your pleasures,I know how twill proove.

Then give him me.

Sweete soveraigne, yet I come

To see thee ere I die.

Yet not perhaps, [Aside.]

If Warwickes wit and policile prevaile.

My lord of Penbrooke, we deliver him you,

Returne him on your honor. Sound, away.

Exeunt.

Manent Penbrooke, Arundell, Gaveston, and Penbrookes men, foure souldiers [, one of them James].

My Lord, you shall go with me,

My house is not farre hence, out of the way

A little, but our men shall go along.

We that have prettie wenches to our wives,

Sir, must not come so neare and balke their lips.

Tis verie kindlie spoke my lord of Penbrooke,

Your honor hath an adamant, of power

To drawe a prince.

So my lord. Come hether James,

I do commit this Gaveston to thee,

Be thou this night his keeper, in the morning

We will discharge thee of thy charge, be gon.