Diabolo, what passions call you these?
ISABELLA. My gracious lord, I come to bring you news.
EDWARD. That you have parlied with your Mortimer?
ISABELLA. That Gaveston, my lord, shall be repealed.
EDWARD. Repealed! The news is too sweet to be true.
ISABELLA. But will you love me, if you find it so?
EDWARD. If it be so, what will not Edward do?
ISABELLA. For Gaveston, but not for Isabel.
EDWARD. For thee, fair Queen, if thou lovest Gaveston,
I'll hang a golden tongue about thy neck,
Seeing thou hast pleaded with so good success.
ISABELLA. 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!
EDWARD. Once more receive my hand; and let this be
A second marriage 'twixt thyself and me.
ISABELLA. 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.
EDWARD. 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.
LANCASTER. This salutation overjoys my heart.
EDWARD. Warwick shall be my chiefest counselor.
These silver hairs will more adorn my court
Than gaudy silks or rich embroidery.
Chide me, sweet Warwick, if I go astray.
WARWICK. Slay me, my lord, when I offend your grace.
EDWARD. In solemn triumphs and in public shows
Pembroke shall bear the sword before the King.
PEMBROKE. And with this sword Pembroke will fight for you.
EDWARD. But wherefore walks young Mortimer aside?
Be thou commander of our royal fleet;
Or if that lofty office like thee not,
I make thee here Lord Marshal of the realm.
MORTIMER. My lord, I'll marshal so your enemies,
As England shall be quiet, and you safe.
EDWARD. And as for you, Lord Mortimer of Chirk,
Whose great achievements in our foreign war
Deserve no common place nor mean reward,
Be you the general of the levied troops
That now are ready to assail the Scots.
MORTIMER SENIOR. In this your grace hath highly honoured me,
For with my nature war doth best agree.
ISABELLA. Now is the King of England rich and strong,
Having the love of his renowned peers.
EDWARD. Ay, Isabel, ne'er was my heart so light.
Clerk of the crown, direct our warrant forth,
For Gaveston, to Ireland! Beaumont fly,
As fast as Iris or Jove's Mercury.
BEAUMONT. It shall be done, my gracious lord.
Exit.
EDWARD. Lord Mortimer, we leave you to your charge.
Now let us in, and feast it royally.
Against our friend the Earl of Cornwall comes
We'll have a general tilt and tournament;
And then his marriage shall be solemnized;
For wot you not that I have made him sure
Unto our cousin, the Earl of Gloucester's heir?
LANCASTER. Such news we hear, my lord.
EDWARD. That day, if not for him, yet for my sake,
Who in the triumph will be challenger,
Spare for no cost; we will requite your love.
WARWICK. In this or aught your highness shall command us.
EDWARD. Thanks, gentle Warwick. Come, let's in and revel.
Exeunt all except the Mortimers.
MORTIMER SENIOR. Nephew, I must to Scotland: thou stayest here.
Leave now to oppose thyself against the King:
Thou seest by nature he is mild and calm;
And seeing his mind so dotes on Gaveston,
Let him without controlment have his will.
The mightiest Kings have had their minions
Great Alexander loved Hephaestion,
The conquering Hercules for Hylas wept,
And for Patroclus stern Achilles droop'd.
And not kings only, but the wisest men;
The Roman Tully loved Octavius,
Grave Socrates wild Alcibiades.
Then let his grace, whose youth is flexible,
And promiseth as much as we can wish,
Freely enjoy that vain lightheaded earl;
For riper years will wean him from such toys.
MORTIMER.