humbly thank your ladyship.
_Niece._ Come, lead the way: I long till I am there. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ KING EDWARD, QUEEN ISABELLA, KENT, LANCASTER,
_the younger_ MORTIMER, WARWICK, PEMBROKE, _and_
Attendants.

_K. Edw._ The wind is good; I wonder why he stays:
I fear me he is wreck'd upon the sea.
_Q. Isab._ Look, Lancaster, how passionate he is,
And still his mind runs on his minion!
_Lan._ My lord,--
_K. Edw._ How now! what news? is Gaveston arriv'd?
_Y. Mor._ Nothing but Gaveston! what means your grace?
You have matters of more weight to think upon:
The King of France sets foot in Normandy.
_K. Edw._ A trifle! we'll expel him when we please.
But tell me, Mortimer, what's thy device
Against the stately triumph we decreed?
_Y. Mor._ A homely one, my lord, not worth the telling.
_K. Edw._ Pray thee, let me know it.
_Y. Mor._ But, seeing you are so desirous, thus it is;
A lofty cedar tree, fair flourishing,
On whose top branches kingly eagles perch,
And by the bark a canker creeps me up,
And gets unto the highest bough of all;
The motto, _AEque tandem._
_K. Edw._ And what is yours, my Lord of Lancaster?
_Lan._ My lord, mine's more obscure than Mortimer's.
Pliny reports, there is a flying-fish
Which all the other fishes deadly hate,
And therefore, being pursu'd, it takes the air:
No sooner is it up, but there's a fowl
That seizeth it: this fish, my lord, I bear;
The motto this, _Undique mors est._
_Kent._ Proud Mortimer! ungentle Lancaster!
Is this the love you bear your sovereign?
Is this the fruit your reconcilement bears?
Can you in words make show of amity,
And in your shields display your rancorous minds?
What call you this but private libelling
Against the Earl of Cornwall and my brother?
_Q. Isab._ Sweet husband, be content; they all love you.
_K. Edw._ They love me not that hate my Gaveston.
I am that cedar; shake me not too much;
And you the eagles; soar ye ne'er so high,
I have the jesses that will pull you down;
And _AEque tandem_ shall that canker cry
Unto the proudest peer of Britainy.
Thou that compar'st him to a flying-fish,
And threaten'st death whether he rise or fall,
'Tis not the hugest monster of the sea,
Nor foulest harpy, that shall swallow him.
_Y. Mor._ If in his absence thus he favours him,
What will he do whenas he shall be present?
_Lan._ That shall we see: loo