Lancaster

Wel, let that peevish Frenchman guard him sure,

Unlesse his brest be sword proofe he shall die.

Wherfore is Guy of Warwicke discontent?

Ah that bewraies their basenes Lancaster,

Were all the Earles and Barons of my minde,

Weele hale him from the bosome of the king,

And at the court gate hang the pessant up,

Who swolne with venome of ambitious pride,

Will be the ruine of the realme and us.

Then wil you joine with us that be his peeres

To banish or behead that Gaveston?

Madam, whether whither walks your majestie so fast?

Madam, returne unto the court againe:

That slie inveigling Frenchman weele exile,

Or lose our lives: and yet ere that day come,

The king shall lose his crowne, for we have power,

And courage to, to be revengde at full.

Then may we lawfully revolt from him.

Content.

Madam farewell.

I, if words will serve, if not, I must.