_Edw._ 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, 130 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 140 On your accursèd traitorous progeny, You villains, that have slain my Gaveston! And in his place of honour and of trust, Spencer, sweet Spencer, I adopt thee here: And merely of our love we do create thee Earl of Gloucester, and Lord Chamberlain, Despite of times, despite of enemies. _Y. Spen._ My Lord, here is[265] a messenger from the barons Desires access unto your majesty. _Edw._ Admit him near. 150 _Enter the_ Herald _from the_ Barons, _with his coat of arms._ _Her._ Long live King Edward, England's lawful lord! _Edw._ So wish not they, I wis, that sent thee hither. Thou com'st from Mortimer and his complices, A ranker rout[266] of rebels never was. Well, say thy message. _Her._ The barons up in arms, by me salute Your highness with long life and happiness; And bid me say, as plainer to your grace, That if without effusion of blood You will this grief have ease and remedy, 160 That from your princely person you remove This Spencer, as a putrefying branch, That deads the royal vine, whose golden leaves[267] Empale your princely head, your diadem, Whose brightness such pernicious upstarts dim, Say they; and lovingly advise your grace, To cherish virtue and nobility, And have old servitors in high esteem, And shake off smooth dissembling flatterers: This granted, they, their honours, and their lives, 170 Are to your highness vowed and consecrate. _Y. Spen._ Ah, traitors! will they still display their pride?