_Edw._ Now, lusty lords, now, not by chance of war, But justice of the quarrel and the cause, Vailed is your pride; methinks you hang the heads, But we'll advance them, traitors; now 'tis time To be avenged on you for all your braves, 40 And for the murder of my dearest friend, To whom right well you knew our soul was knit, Good Pierce of Gaveston, my sweet favourite: Ah, rebels! recreants! you made him away. _Kent._ Brother, in regard of thee, and of thy land, Did they remove that flatterer from thy throne. _Edw._ So, sir, you have spoke; away, avoid our presence. [_Exit_ KENT. Accursèd wretches, was't in regard of us, When we had sent our messenger to request He might be spared to come to speak with us, 50 And Pembroke undertook for his return, That thou, proud Warwick, watched the prisoner, Poor Pierce, and headed him 'gainst law of arms; For which thy head shall overlook the rest, As much as thou in rage outwent'st the rest. _War._ Tyrant, I scorn thy threats and menaces, It is but temporal that thou canst inflict. _Lan._ The worst is death, and better die to live Than live in infamy under such a king. _Edw._ Away with them, my lord of Winchester! 60 These lusty leaders, Warwick and Lancaster, I charge you roundly--off with both their heads! Away! _War._ Farewell, vain world! _Lan._ Sweet Mortimer, farewell. _Y. Mor._ England, unkind to thy nobility, Groan for this grief, behold how thou art maimed! _Edw._ Go, take that haughty Mortimer to the Tower, There see him safe bestowed; and for the rest, Do speedy execution on them all. Begone! 70 _Y. Mor._ What, Mortimer! can ragged stony walls Immure thy virtue that aspires to heaven? No, Edward, England's scourge, it may not be, Mortimer's hope surmounts his fortune far. [_The captive_ Barons _are led off._ _Edw._. Sound drums and trumpets! March with me, my friends, Edward this day hath crowned him king anew. [_Exeunt all except_ YOUNG SPENCER, LEVUNE, _and_ BALDOCK. _Y. Spen._ Levune, the trust that we repose in thee, Begets the quiet of King Edward's land. Therefore begone in haste, and with advice Bestow that pleasure on the lords of France, 80 That, therewith all enchanted, like the guard That suffered Jove to pass in showers of gold To Danae, all aid may be denied To Isabel, the queen, that now in France Makes friends, to cross the seas with her young son, And step into his father's regiment.[270] _Levune._ That's it these barons and the subtle queen Long levelled[271] at.