His highness is disposed to be alone.
LANCASTER. Why, so he may; but we will speak to him.
GUARD. You may not in, my lord.
MORTIMER. May we not?
Enter Edward and Kent
EDWARD. How now, what noise is this?
Who have we there? Is't you?
MORTIMER. Nay, stay, my lord; I come to bring you news;
Mine uncle's taken prisoner by the Scots.
EDWARD. Then ransom him.
LANCASTER. 'Twas in your wars. You should ransom him.
MORTIMER. And you shall ransom him, or else...
KENT. What, Mortimer, you will not threaten him?
EDWARD. Quiet yourself, you shall have the broad seal,
To gather for him throughout the realm.
LANCASTER. Your minion Gaveston hath taught you this.
MORTIMER. My lord, the family of the Mortimers
Are not so poor, but, would they sell their land
'Twould levy men enough to anger you.
We never beg, but use such prayers as these.
Grasps sword
EDWARD. Shall I still be haunted thus?
MORTIMER. Nay, now you are here alone, I'll speak my mind.
LANCASTER. And so will I; and then, my lord, farewell.
MORTIMER. The idle triumphs, masks, lascivious shows,
And prodigal gifts bestowed on Gaveston,
Have drawn thy treasure dry, and made thee weak;
The murmuring commons overstretched hath.
LANCASTER. Look for rebellion, look to be deposed.
Thy garrisons are beaten out of France,
And, lame and poor, lie groaning at the gates;
The wild O'Neill, with swarms of Irish kerns,
Lives uncontrolled within the English pale;
Unto the walls of York the Scots make road,
And, unresisted, draw away rich spoils.
MORTIMER. The haughty Dane commands the narrow seas,
While in the harbour ride thy ships unrigged.
LANCASTER. What foreign prince sends thee ambassadors?
MORTIMER. Who loves thee, but a sort of flatterers?
LANCASTER. Thy gentle Queen, sole sister to Valois,
Complains that thou hast left her all forlorn.
MORTIMER. Thy court is naked, being bereft of those
That make a king seem glorious to the world,
I mean the peers, whom thou shouldst dearly love;
Libels are cast against thee in the street;
Ballads and rhymes made of thy overthrow.
LANCASTER. The northern borderers, seeing the houses burnt,
Their wives and children slain, run up and down,
Cursing the name of thee and Gaveston.
MORTIMER. When wert thou in the field with banner spread?
But once, and then thy soldiers marched like players,
With garish robes, not armour; and thyself,
Bedaubed with gold, rode laughing at the rest,
Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest,
Where women's favours hung like labels down.
LANCASTER. And thereof came it that the fleering Scots,
To England's high disgrace, have made this jig;
Maids of England, sore may you mourn,
For your lemans you have lost at Bannocksbourn,
With a heave and a ho!
What weeneth the King of England
So soon to have won Scotland?
With a rombelow!
MORTIMER. Wigmore shall fly to set my uncle free.
LANCASTER. And, when 'tis gone, our swords shall purchase more.
If ye be moved, revenge it as you can:
Look next to see us with our ensigns spread
Exeunt all except Edward and Kent.
EDWARD. My swelling heart for very anger breaks.
How oft have I been baited by these peers,
And dare not be revenged, for their power is great;
Yet, shall the crowing of these cockerels
Affright a lion? Edward, unfold thy paws,
And let their lives' blood slake thy fury's hunger.
If I be cruel and grow tyrannous,
Now let them thank themselves, and rue too late.
KENT. My lord, I see your love to Gaveston
Will be the ruin of the realm and you,
For now the wrathful nobles threaten wars;
And therefore, brother, banish him forever.
EDWARD.