Edward II

Act I

Scene I

A street in London.

“My father is deceased! Come, Gaveston,
And share the kingdom with thy dearest friend.”
Ah, words that make me surfeit with delight!
What greater bliss can hap to Gaveston
Than live and be the favourite of a king!
Sweet prince, I come! these, thy amorous lines
Might have enforced me to have swum from France,
And, like Leander, gasped upon the sand,
So thou wouldst smile, and take me in thine arms.
The sight of London to my exiled eyes
Is as Elysium to a new-come soul:
Not that I love the city or the men,
But that it harbours him I hold so dear—
The king, upon whose bosom let me lie,
And with the world be still at enmity.
What need the arctic people love starlight,
To whom the sun shines both by day and night?
Farewell base stooping to the lordly peers!
My knee shall bow to none but to the king.
As for the multitude, that are but sparks,
Raked up in embers of their poverty—
Tanti; I’ll fawn first on the wind,
That glanceth at my lips, and flieth away.
But how now! what are these?

Let me see; thou wouldst do well
To wait at my trencher, and tell me lies at dinnertime;
And, as I like your discoursing, I’ll have you.—
And what art thou?

Why, there are hospitals for such as you:
I have no war; and therefore, sir, be gone.

Farewell, and perish by a soldier’s hand,
That wouldst reward them with an hospital!

Aside. Ay, ay, these words of his move me as much
As if a goose should play the porcupine,
And dart her plumes, thinking to pierce my breast.
But yet it is no pain to speak men fair;
I’ll flatter these, and make them live in hope.—

You know that I came lately out of France,
And yet I have not viewed my lord the king:
If I speed well, I’ll entertain you all.

Do. Exeunt Poor Men.
These are not men for me;
I must have wanton poets, pleasant wits,
Musicians, that with touching of a string
May draw the pliant king which way I please:
Music and poetry is his delight;
Therefore I’ll have Italian masks by night,
Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows;
And in the day, when he shall walk abroad,
Like sylvan nymphs my pages shall be clad;
My men, like satyrs grazing on the lawns,
Shall with their goat-feet dance the antic hay;
Sometime a lovely boy in Dian’s shape,
With hair that gilds the water as it glides
Crownets of pearl about his naked arms,
And in his sportful hands an olive-tree,
To hide those parts which men delight to see,
Shall bathe him in a spring; and there, hard by,
One like Actaeon, peeping through the grove,
Shall by the angry goddess be transformed,
And running in the likeness of an hart,
By yelping hounds pulled down, shall seem to die:
Such things as these best please his majesty.—
Here comes my lord the king, and the nobles
From the parliament. I’ll stand aside. Retires.

Will you not grant me this? Aside. In spite of them
I’ll have my will; and these two Mortimers,
That cross me thus, shall know I am displeased.

Mine uncle here, this earl, and I myself,
Were sworn to your father at his death,
That he should ne’er return into the realm:
And now, my lord, ere I will break my oath,
This sword of mine, that should offend your foes,
Shall sleep within the scabbard at thy need,
And underneath thy banners march who will,
For Mortimer will hang his armour up.

Well, Mortimer, I’ll make thee rue these words:
Beseems it thee to contradict thy king?
Frown’st thou thereat, aspiring Lancaster?
The sword shall plane the furrows of thy brows,
And hew these knees that now are grown so stiff.
I will have Gaveston; and you shall know
What danger ’tis to stand against your king.

My lord, why do you thus incense your peers,
That naturally would love and honour you,
But for that base and obscure Gaveston?
Four earldoms have I, besides Lancaster—
Derby, Salisbury, Lincoln, Leicester;
These will I sell, to give my soldiers pay,
Ere Gaveston shall stay within the realm:
Therefore, if he be come, expel him straight.

Barons and earls, your pride hath made me mute;
But know I’ll speak, and to the proof, I hope.
I do remember, in my father’s days,
Lord Percy of the North, being highly moved,
Braved Mowbray in presence of the king;
For which, had not his highness loved him well,
He should have lost his head; but with his look
The undaunted spirit of Percy was appeased,
And Mowbray and he were reconciled:
Yet dare you brave the king unto his face.—
Brother, revenge it, and let these their heads
Preach upon poles, for trespass of their tongues.

I cannot, nor I will not; I must speak.—
Cousin, our hands I hope shall fence our heads,
And strike off his that makes you threaten us.—
Come, uncle, let us leave the brainsick king,
And henceforth parley with our naked swords.

And northward Lancaster hath many friends.—
Adieu, my lord; and either change your mind,
Or look to see the throne, where you should sit,
To float in blood, and at thy wanton head,
The glozing head of thy base minion thrown.

I cannot brook these haughty menaces:
Am I a king, and must be overruled?—
Brother, display my ensigns in the field:
I’ll bandy with the barons and the earls,
And either die or live with Gaveston.

What, Gaveston! welcome! Kiss not my hand:
Embrace me, Gaveston, as I do thee.
Why shouldst thou kneel? know’st thou not who I am?
Thy friend, thyself, another Gaveston:
Not Hylas was more mourned for of Hercules
Than thou hast been of me since thy exile.

And, since I went from hence, no soul in hell
Hath felt more torment than poor Gaveston.

I know it.—Brother, welcome home my friend.—
Now let the treacherous Mortimers conspire,
And that high-minded Earl of Lancaster:
I have my wish, in that I joy thy sight;
And sooner shall the sea o’erwhelm my land
Than bear the ship that shall transport thee hence.
I here create thee Lord High-chamberlain,
Chief Secretary to the state and me,
Earl of Cornwall, King and Lord of Man.