I see I must, and therefore am content:
Instead of ink, I'll write it with my tears.
MORTIMER. The King is lovesick for his minion.
EDWARD. 'Tis done: and now, accursed hand, fall off!
LANCASTER. Give it me: I'll have it published in the streets.
MORTIMER. I'll see him presently dispatched away.
CANTERBURY. Now is my heart at ease.
WARWICK. And so is mine.
PEMBROKE. This will be good news to the common sort.
MORTIMER SENIOR. Be it or no, he shall not linger here.
Exeunt all except Edward.
EDWARD. How fast they run to banish him I love!
They would not stir, were it to do me good.
Why should a King be subject to a priest?
Proud Rome, that hatchest such imperial grooms,
With these thy superstitious taperlights,
Wherewith thy antichristian churches blaze,
I'll fire thy crazed buildings, and enforce
The papal towers to kiss the lowly ground,
With slaughtered priests make Tiber's channel swell,
And banks raised higher with their sepulchres!
As for the peers, that back the clergy thus,
If I be King, not one of them shall live.
Enter Gaveston.
GAVESTON. My Lord, I hear it whispered everywhere
That I am banished and must fly the land.
EDWARD. 'Tis true, sweet Gaveston; oh, were it false!
The legate of the Pope will have it so,
And thou must hence, or I shall be deposed.
But I will reign to be revenged of them;
And therefore, sweet friend, take it patiently.
Live where thou wilt, I'll send thee gold enough;
And long thou shall not stay; or, if thou dost,
I'll come to thee; my love shall ne'er decline.
GAVESTON. Is all my hope turned to this hell of grief?
EDWARD. Rend not my heart with thy too piercing words:
Thou from this land, I from myself am banished.
GAVESTON. To go from hence grieves not poor Gaveston;
But to forsake you, in whose gracious looks
The blessedness of Gaveston remains;
For nowhere else seeks he felicity.
EDWARD. 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.
O, might I keep thee here, as I do this,
Happy were I, but now most miserable.
GAVESTON. 'Tis something to be pitied of a King.
EDWARD. Thou shalt not hence; I'll hide thee, Gaveston.
GAVESTON. I shall be found, and then 'twill grieve me more.
EDWARD. Kind words and mutual talk makes our grief greater.
Therefore, with dumb embracement, let us part.
Stay, Gaveston; I cannot leave thee thus.
GAVESTON. For every look, my love drops down a tear:
Seeing I must go, do not renew my sorrow.
EDWARD. 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.
GAVESTON. The peers will frown.
EDWARD. I pass not for their anger. Come, let's go:
O, that we might as well return as go!
Enter Queen Isabella.
ISABELLA. Whither goes my lord?
EDWARD. Fawn not on me, French strumpet. Get thee gone.
ISABELLA. On whom but on my husband, should I fawn?
GAVESTON. On Mortimer; with whom, ungentle Queen ...
I say no more, judge you the rest, my lord.
ISABELLA. 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?
GAVESTON. I mean not so; you grace must pardon me.
EDWARD. Thou art too familiar with that Mortimer,
And by thy means is Gaveston exiled,
But I would wish thee reconcile the lords,
Or thou shalt ne'er be reconciled to me.
ISABELLA. Your highness knows, it lies not in my power.
EDWARD. Away, then! Touch me not.