_Queen._ O never, Lancaster! I am enjoined 200 To sue upon you all for his repeal; This wills my lord, and this must I perform, Or else be banished from his highness' presence. _Lan._ For his repeal, madam! he comes not back, Unless the sea cast up his shipwrecked 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? _Queen._ I, Mortimer, for till he be restored, The angry king hath banished me the court; 210 And, therefore, as thou lov'st and tender'st me, Be thou my advocate upon the peers. _Y. Mor._ What! would you have me plead for Gaveston? _E. Mor._ Plead for him that will, I am resolved. _Lan._ And so am I, my lord! dissuade the queen. _Queen._ 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. _Queen._ 'Tis for myself I speak, and not for him. _Pem._ No speaking will prevail,[205] and therefore cease. 220 _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. _Queen._ Sweet Mortimer, sit down by me awhile, 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. _Queen._ Then thus, but none shall hear it but ourselves. [_Talks to_ Y. MOR. _apart._ _Lan._ My lords, albeit the queen win Mortimer, 230 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 changed. _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 take no question, 240 And therefore, though I plead for his repeal, 'Tis not for his sake, but for 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? And is this true, to call him home again? Such reasons make white black, and dark night day. _Y. Mor._ My lord of Lancaster, mark the respect.[206] _Lan._ In no respect can contraries be true. _Queen._ Yet, good my lord, here what he can allege. 250 _War._ All that he speaks is nothing, we are resolved. _Y. Mor._ Do you not wish that Gaveston were dead?