And I'll follow thee.
MORTIMER. This tottered ensign of my ancestors,
Which swept the desert shore of that dead sea
Whereof we got the name of Mortimer,
Will I advance upon these castle walls,
Drums, strike alarum, raise them from their sport,
And ring aloud the knell of Gaveston!
LANCASTER. None be so hardy as to touch the King;
But neither spare you Gaveston nor his friends.
Exeunt.
ACT TWO, SCENE FOUR
Enter the King and Spencer, to them Gaveston, Isabella, Margaret de Clare.
EDWARD. O, tell me, Spencer, where is Gaveston?
SPENCER. I fear me he is slain, my gracious lord.
EDWARD. No, here he comes; now let them spoil and kill.
Fly, fly, my lords; the earls have got the hold;
Take shipping, and away to Scarborough.
Spencer and I will post away by land.
GAVESTON. O stay, my lord, they will not injure you.
EDWARD. I will not trust them, Gaveston, away!
GAVESTON. Farewell, my lord.
EDWARD. Lady, farewell.
LADY MARGARET. Farewell, sweet uncle, till we meet again.
EDWARD. Farewell, sweet Gaveston; and farewell, niece.
ISABELLA. No farewell to poor Isabel thy Queen?
EDWARD. Yes, yes, for Mortimer your lover's sake.
Exeunt all except Isabella.
ISABELLA. Heavens can witness, I love none but you.
From my embracements thus he breaks away.
O, that mine arms could close this isle about,
That I might pull him to me where I would,
Or that these tears, that drizzle from mine eyes,
Had power to mollify his stony heart,
That, when I had him, we might never part!
Enter the Barons, alarums.
LANCASTER. I wonder how he scaped ?
MORTIMER. Who's this? The Queen?
ISABELLA. Ay, Mortimer, the miserable Queen,
Whose pining heart her inward sighs have blasted,
And body with continual mourning wasted.
These hands are tired with haling of my lord
From Gaveston, from wicked Gaveston;
And all in vain; for when I speak him fair,
He turns away, and smiles upon his minion.
MORTIMER. Cease to lament, and tell us where's the King?
ISABELLA. What would you with the King? Is't him you seek?
LANCASTER. No, madam, but that cursed Gaveston.
Far be it from the thought of Lancaster
To offer violence to his sovereign!
We would but rid the realm of Gaveston.
Tell us where he remains, and he shall die.
ISABELLA. He's gone by water unto Scarborough;
Pursue him quickly, and he cannot 'scape:
The King hath left him, and his train is small.
WARWICK. Forslow no time, sweet Lancaster; let's march.
MORTIMER. How comes it that the King and he is parted?
ISABELLA. That this your army, going several ways,
Might be of lesser force, and with the power
That he intendeth presently to raise,
Be easily suppressed; and therefore be gone!
MORTIMER. Here in the river rides a Flemish hoy;
Let's all aboard, and follow him amain.
LANCASTER. The wind that bears him hence will fill our sails;
Come, come, aboard! 'tis but an hour's sailing.
ISABELLA. No Mortimer; I'll to my lord the King.
MORTIMER. Nay, rather sail with us to Scarborough.
ISABELLA. You know the King is so suspicious
As, if he hear I have but talked with you,
Mine honour will be called in question;
And therefore, gentle Mortimer, be gone.
MORTIMER. Madam, I cannot stay to answer you;
But think of Mortimer as he deserves.
Exeunt all except Isabella
ISABELLA. So well hast thou deserved, sweet Mortimer,
As Isabel could live with thee forever.
In vain I look for love at Edward's hand,
Whose eyes are fixed on none but Gaveston;
Yet once more I'll importune him with prayers.
If he be strange, and not regard my words,
My son and I will over into France,
And to the King my brother there complain
How Gaveston hath robbed me of his love;
But yet, I hope, my sorrows will have end,
And Gaveston this blessed day be slain.