In vain I look for love at Edward's hand, Whose eyes are fix'd on none but Gaveston. Yet once more I'll importune him with prayer: 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 robb'd me of his love: But yet, I hope, my sorrows will have end, And Gaveston this blessed day be slain. [_Exit._ _Enter_ GAVESTON, _pursued._ _Gav._ Yet, lusty lords, I have escap'd your hands, Your threats, your 'larums, and your hot pursuits; And, though divorced from King Edward's eyes, Yet liveth Pierce of Gaveston unsurpris'd, Breathing in hope (malgrado all your beards, That muster rebels thus against your king) To see his royal sovereign once again. _Enter_ WARWICK, LANCASTER, PEMBROKE, _the younger_ MORTIMER, Soldiers, JAMES _and other_ Attendants _of_ PENBROKE. _War._ Upon him, soldiers! take away his weapons! _Y. Mor._ Thou proud disturber of thy country's peace, Corrupter of thy king, cause of these broils, Base flatterer, yield! and, were it not for shame, Shame and dishonour to a soldier's name, Upon my weapon's point here shouldst thou fall, And welter in thy gore. _Lan._ Monster of men, That, like the Greekish strumpet, train'd to arms And bloody wars so many valiant knights, Look for no other fortune, wretch, than death! King Edward is not here to buckler thee. _War._ Lancaster, why talk'st thou to the slave?-- Go, soldiers, take him hence; for, by my sword, His head shall off.--Gaveston, short warning Shall serve thy turn: it is our country's cause That here severely we will execute Upon thy person.--Hang him at a bough. _Gav._ My lord,-- _War._ Soldiers, have him away.-- But, for thou wert the favourite of a king, Thou shalt have so much honour at our hands. _Gav._ I thank you all, my lords: then I perceive That heading is one, and hanging is the other, And death is all. _Enter_ ARUNDEL.