_K. Edw._ What, Lord Arundel, dost thou come alone? _Arun._ Yea, my good lord, for Gaveston is dead. _K. Edw._ Ah, traitors, have they put my friend to death? Tell me, Arundel, died he ere thou cam'st, Or didst thou see my friend to take his death? _Arun._ Neither, my lord; for, as he was surpris'd, Begirt with weapons and with enemies round, I did your highness' message to them all, Demanding him of them, entreating rather, And said, upon the honour of my name, That I would undertake to carry him Unto your highness, and to bring him back. _K. Edw._ And, tell me, would the rebels deny me that? _Y. Spen._ Proud recreants! _K. Edw._ Yea, Spenser, traitors all! _Arun._ In found them at the first inexorable; The Earl of Warwick would not bide the hearing, Mortimer hardly; Pembroke and Lancaster Spake least; and when they flatly had denied, Refusing to receive me pledge for him, The Earl of Pembroke mildly thus bespake; "My lord, because our sovereign sends for him, And promiseth he shall be safe return'd, I will this undertake, to have him hence, And see him re-deliver'd to your hands." _K. Edw._ Well, and how fortunes [it] that he came not? _Y. Spen._ Some treason or some villany was cause. _Arun._ The Earl of Warwick seiz'd him on his way; For, being deliver'd unto Pembroke's men, Their lord rode home, thinking his prisoner safe; But, ere he came, Warwick in ambush lay, And bare him to his death; and in a trench Strake off his head, and march'd unto the camp. _Y. Spen._ A bloody part, flatly 'gainst law of arms! _K. Edw._ O, shall I speak, or shall I sigh and die! _Y. Spen._ My lord, refer your vengeance to the sword Upon these barons; hearten up your men; Let them not unreveng'd murder your friends: Advance your standard, Edward, in the field, And march to fire them from their starting-holes. _K. Edw._ [_kneeling._] By earth, the common mother of us all, By heaven, and all the moving orbs thereof, By this right hand, and by my father's sword, And all the honours 'longing to my crown, I will have heads and lives for him as many As I have manors, castles, towns, and towers!-- [_Rises._ Treacherous Warwick! traitorous Mortimer! If I be England's king, in lakes of gore Your headless trunks, your bodies will I trail, That you may drink your fill, and quaff in blood, And stain my royal standard with the same, That so my bloody colours may suggest Remembrance of revenge immortally On your accursed traitorous progeny, You villains that have slain my Gaveston!-- And in this place of honour and of trust, Spenser, sweet Spenser, I adopt thee here; And merely of our love we do create thee Earl of Glocester and Lord Chamberlain, Despite of times, despite of enemies. _Y. Spen._ My lord, here's a messenger from the barons Desires access unto your majesty. _K. Edw._ Admit him near.