_Kent._ I have informed the Earl of Lancaster. _Lan._ And it sufficeth. Now, my lords, know this, That Gaveston is secretly arrived, And here in Tynemouth frolics with the king. Let us with these our followers scale the walls, And suddenly surprise them unawares. _Y. Mor._ I'll give the onset. _War._ And I'll follow thee. 20 _Y. Mor._ This tottered[240] ensign of my ancestors, Which swept the desert shore of that dead[241] sea Whereof we got the name of Mortimer, Will I advance upon this castle['s] walls. Drums, strike alarum, raise them from their sport, And ring aloud the knell of Gaveston! _Lan._ None be so hardy as [to] touch the king; But neither spare you Gaveston nor his friends. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. _Enter_[242] _the_ KING _and_ YOUNG SPENCER. _Edw._ O tell me, Spencer, where is Gaveston? _Spen._ I fear me, he is slain, my gracious lord. _Edw._ No, here he comes; now let them spoil and kill. _Enter_ QUEEN, King's Niece, GAVESTON, _and_ Nobles. Fly, fly, my lords, the earls have got the hold; Take shipping and away to Scarborough; Spencer and I will post away by land. _Gav._ O stay, my lord, they will not injure you. _Edw._ I will not trust them; Gaveston, away! _Gav._ Farewell, my lord. _Edw._ Lady, farewell. _Lady._ Farewell, sweet uncle, till we meet again. 10 _Edw._ Farewell, sweet Gaveston; and farewell, niece. _Queen._ No farewell to poor Isabel thy queen? _Edw._ Yes, yes, for Mortimer, your lover's sake. [_Exeunt all but_ ISABEL. _Queen._ Heaven can witness I love none but you: From my embracements thus he breaks away. O that mine arms could close this isle about, That I might pull him to me where I would! Or that these tears, that drizzle from mine eyes, Had power to mollify his stony heart, That when I had him we might never part. 20 _Enter the_ Barons. _Alarums._ _Lan._ I wonder how he scaped! _Y. Mor._ Who's this, the queen? _Queen._ I, Mortimer, the miserable queen, Whose pining heart her inward sighs have blasted, And body with continual mourning wasted: These hands are tired with haling of my lord From Gaveston, from wicked Gaveston, And all in vain; for, when I speak him fair, He turns away, and smiles upon his minion. _Y. Mor._ Cease to lament, and tell us where's the king? _Queen._ What would you with the king? is't him you seek? 30 _Lan._ No, madam, but that cursèd Gaveston. Far be it from the thought of Lancaster To offer violence to his sovereign. We would but rid the realm of Gaveston: Tell us where he remains, and he shall die.