Maids of England, sore may you mourne,
For your Lemons you have lost, at Bannocks borne,
With a heave and a ho,
What weaneth the King of England,
So soone to have woone Scotland,
With a rombelow.
Mor.
Wigmore shall flye to set my Uncle free.
Lan.
And when tis gone, our swords shall purchase more.
If ye be mov'd revenge it as you can.
Looke next to see us with our Ensignes spread. Exeunt Nobles.
Edw.
My swelling heart for very anger breakes,
How oft have I beene baited by these Peeres?
And dare not be reveng'd, for their power is great:
Yet, shall the crowing of these Cockerels,
Affright a Lyon? Edward unfold thy pawes,
And let their lives bloud slake thy furies hunger:
If I be cruell, and grow tyrannous,
Now let them thanke themselves, and rue too late.
Kent.
My Lord, I see your love to Gaveston,
Will be the ruine of the realme and you,
For now the wrathfull Nobles threaten warres,
And therefore Brother banish him for ever.
Edw.
Art thou an enemy to my Gaveston?
Kent.
I, and it grieves me that I favoured him.
Edw.
Traitor be gone, whine thou with Mortimer.
Kent.
So will I, rather then with Gaveston.
Edw.
Out of my sight and trouble me no more.
Ke.
No marvell though thou scorne thy noble Peeres,
When I thy brother am rejected thus. Exit.
Edw.
Away poore Gaveston, that hast no friend but me,
Do what they can, weele live in Tinmoth heere,
And so I walke with him about the walls,
What care I though the Earles begirt us round?
Heere comes she thats cause of all these jarres.
Enter the Queene, three Ladies, Balducke,
and Spencer.
Qu.
My Lord tis thought the Earles are up in armes,
Edw.
I, and tis likewise thought you favour him.
Qu.
