_Edw._ How fast they run to banish him I love! They would not stir, were it to do me good. Why should a king be subject to a priest? Proud Rome! that hatchest such imperial grooms, For[196] these thy superstitious taper-lights, Wherewith thy antichristian churches blaze, I'll fire thy crazèd buildings, and enforce 100 The papal towers to kiss the lowly ground![197] With slaughtered priests make[198] Tiber's channel swell, And banks raised higher with their sepulchres! As for the peers, that back the clergy thus, If I be king, not one of them shall live. _Enter_ GAVESTON. _Gav._ My lord, I hear it whispered everywhere, That I am banished, and must fly the land. _Edw._ 'Tis true, sweet Gaveston--O! were it false! The legate of the Pope will have it so, And thou must hence, or I shall be deposed. 110 But I will reign to be revenged of them; And therefore, sweet friend, take it patiently. Live where thou wilt, I'll send thee gold enough; And long thou shalt not stay, or if thou dost, I'll come to thee; my love shall ne'er decline. _Gav._ Is all my hope turned to this hell of grief? _Edw._ Rend not my heart with thy too-piercing words: Thou from this land, I from myself am banished. _Gav._ To go from hence grieves not poor Gaveston; But to forsake you, in whose gracious looks 120 The blessedness of Gaveston remains: For nowhere else seeks he felicity. _Edw._ And only this torments my wretched soul, That, whether I will or no, thou must depart. Be governor of Ireland in my stead, And there abide till fortune call thee home. Here take my picture, and let me wear thine; [_They exchange pictures._ O, might I keep thee here as I do this, Happy were I! but now most miserable! _Gav._ 'Tis something to be pitied of a king. 130 _Edw._ Thou shalt not hence--I'll hide thee, Gaveston. _Gav._ I shall be found, and then 'twill grieve me more. _Edw._ Kind words, and mutual talk makes our grief greater: Therefore, with dumb embracement, let us part-- Stay, Gaveston, I cannot leave thee thus. _Gav._ For every look, my lord[199] drops down a tear: Seeing I must go, do not renew my sorrow. _Edw._ The time is little that thou hast to stay, And therefore, give me leave to look my fill: But come, sweet friend, I'll bear thee on thy way. 140 _Gav._ The peers will frown. _Edw._ I pass[200] not for their anger--Come, let's go; O that we might as well return as go. _Enter_ KENT[201] _and_ QUEEN ISABEL. _Queen._ Whither goes my lord? _Edw._ Fawn not on me, French strumpet! get thee gone. _Queen._ On whom but on my husband should I fawn?