Edw._ Ay, Isabel, ne'er was my heart so light.-- Clerk of the crown, direct our warrant forth, For Gaveston, to Ireland! _Enter_ BEAUMONT _with warrant._ Beaumont, fly As fast as Iris or Jove's Mercury. _Beau._ It shall be done, my gracious lord. [_Exit._ _K. Edw._ Lord Mortimer, we leave you to your charge. Now let us in, and feast it royally. Against our friend the Earl of Cornwall comes We'll have a general tilt and tournament; And then his marriage shall be solemnis'd; For wot you not that I have made him sure Unto our cousin, the Earl of Glocester's heir? _Lan._ Such news we hear, my lord. _K. Edw._ That day, if not for him, yet for my sake, Who in the triumph will be challenger, Spare for no cost; we will requite your love. _War._ In this or aught your highness shall command us. _K. Edw._ Thanks, gentle Warwick. Come, lets in and revel. [_Exeunt all except the elder Mortimer and the younger Mortimer._ _E. Mor._ Nephew, I must to Scotland; thou stay'st here. Leave now to oppose thyself against the king: Thou seest by nature he is mild and calm; And, seeing his mind so dotes on Gaveston, Let him without controlment have his will. The mightiest kings have had their minions; Great Alexander lov'd Hephaestion, The conquering Hercules for Hylas wept, And for Patroclus stern Achilles droop'd And not kings only, but the wisest men; The Roman Tully lov'd Octavius, Grave Socrates wild Alcibiades. Then let his grace, whose youth is flexible, And promiseth as much as we can wish, Freely enjoy that vain light-headed earl; For riper years will wean him from such toys. _Y. Mor._ Uncle, his wanton humour grieves not me; But this I scorn, that one so basely-born Should by his sovereign's favour grow so pert, And riot it with the treasure of the realm, While soldiers mutiny for want of pay. He wears a lord's revenue on his back, And, Midas-like, he jets it in the court, With base outlandish cullions at his heels, Whose proud fantastic liveries make such show As if that Proteus, god of shapes, appear'd. I have not seen a dapper Jack so brisk: He wears a short Italian hooded cloak, Larded with pearl, and in his Tuscan cap A jewel of more value than the crown. While others walk below, the king and he, From out a window, laugh at such as we, And flout our train, and jest at our attire. Uncle, 'tis this that makes me impatient. _E. Mor._ But, nephew, now you see the king is chang'd. _Y. Mor._ Then so I am, and live to do him service: But, whiles I have a sword, a hand, a heart, I will not yield to any such upstart. You know my mind: come, uncle, let's away. [_Exeunt._ _Enter the younger_ SPENSER _and_ BALDOCK.