_Lan._ Look, where the sister of the king of France Sits wringing of her hands and beats her breast! _War._ The king, I fear, hath ill-treated her. _Pem._ Hard is the heart that injures such a saint. _Y. Mor._ I know 'tis 'long of Gaveston she weeps. _E. Mor._ Why, he is gone. _Y. Mor._ Madam, how fares your grace? _Q. Isab._ Ah, Mortimer, now breaks the king's hate forth, And he confesseth that he loves me not! _Y. Mor._ Cry quittance, madam, then, and love not him. _Q. Isab._ No, rather will I die a thousand deaths: And yet I love in vain; he'll ne'er love me. _Lan._ Fear ye not, madam; now his minion's gone, His wanton humour will be quickly left. _Q. Isab._ O, never, Lancaster! I am enjoin'd, To sue unto you all for his repeal: This wills my lord, and this must I perform, Or else be banish'd from his highness' presence. _Lan._ For his repeal, madam! he comes not back, Unless the sea cast up his shipwreck'd body. _War._ And to behold so sweet a sight as that, There's none here but would run his horse to death. _Y. Mor._ But, madam, would you have us call him home? _Q. Isab._ Ay, Mortimer, for, till he be restor'd, The angry king hath banish'd me the court; And, therefore, as thou lov'st and tender'st me, Be thou my advocate unto these peers. _Y. Mor._ What, would you have me plead for Gaveston? _E. Mor._ Plead for him that will, I am resolv'd. _Lan._ And so am I, my lord: dissuade the queen. _Q. Isab._ O, Lancaster, let him dissuade the king! For 'tis against my will he should return. _War._ Then speak not for him; let the peasant go. _Q. Isab._ 'Tis for myself I speak, and not for him. _Pem._ No speaking will prevail; and therefore cease. _Y. Mor._ Fair queen, forbear to angle for the fish Which, being caught, strikes him that takes it dead; I mean that vile torpedo, Gaveston, That now, I hope, floats on the Irish seas. _Q. Isab._ Sweet Mortimer, sit down by me a while, And I will tell thee reasons of such weight As thou wilt soon subscribe to his repeal. _Y. Mor._ It is impossible: but speak your mind. _Q. Isab._ Then, thus;--but none shall hear it but ourselves. [_Talks to Y. Mor. apart._ _Lan._ My lords, albeit the queen win Mortimer, Will you be resolute and hold with me? _E. Mor._ Not I, against my nephew. _Pem._ Fear not; the queen's words cannot alter him. _War._ No? do but mark how earnestly she pleads! _Lan._ And see how coldly his looks make denial! _War._ She smiles: now, for my life, his mind is chang'd! _Lan._ I'll rather lose his friendship, I, than grant. _Y. Mor._ Well, of necessity it must be so.-- My lords, that I abhor base Gaveston I hope your honours make no question. And therefore, though I plead for his repeal, 'Tis not for his sake, but to our avail; Nay, for the realm's behoof, and for the king's. _Lan._ Fie, Mortimer, dishonour not thyself! Can this be true, 'twas good to banish him?