se groom, robber of king's renown!
Question with thy companions and mates.
_Pem._ My Lord Mortimer, and you, my lords, each one,
To gratify the king's request therein,
Touching the sending of this Gaveston,
Because his majesty so earnestly
Desires to see the man before his death,
I will upon mine honour undertake
To carry him, and bring him back again;
Provided this, that you, my Lord of Arundel,
Will join with me.
_War._ Pembroke, what wilt thou do?
Cause yet more bloodshed? is it not enough
That we have taken him, but must we now
Leave him on "Had I wist," and let him go?
_Pem._ My lords, I will not over-woo your honours:
But, if you dare trust Pembroke with the prisoner,
Upon mine oath, I will return him back.
_Arun._ My Lord of Lancaster, what say you in this?
_Lan._ Why, I say, let him go on Pembroke's word.
_Pem._ And you, Lord Mortimer?
_Y. Mor._ How say you, my Lord of Warwick?
_War._ Nay, do your pleasures: I know how 'twill prove.
_Pem._ Then give him me.
_Gav._ Sweet sovereign, yet I come
To see thee ere I die!
_War._ Yet not perhaps,
If Warwick's wit and policy prevail. [_Aside._
_Y. Mor._ My Lord of Pembroke, we deliver him you:
Return him on your honour.--Sound, away!
[_Exeunt all except Pembroke, Arundel, Gaveston, James
and other attendants of Pembroke._
_Pem._ My lord, you shall go with me:
My house is not far hence; out of the way
A little; but our men shall go along.
We that have pretty wenches to our wives,
Sir, must not come so near to balk their lips.
_Arun._ 'Tis very kindly spoke, my Lord of Pembroke:
Your honour hath an adamant of power
To draw a prince.
_Pem._ So, my lord.--Come hither, James:
I do commit this Gaveston to thee;
Be thou this night his keeper; in the morning
We will discharge thee of thy charge: be gone.
_Gav._ Unhappy Gaveston, whither go'st thou now?
[_Exit with James and other Attendants of Pembroke._
_Horse-boy._ My lord, we'll quickly be at Cobham. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ GAVESTON _mourning,_ JAMES _and other_ Attendants
_of_ PEMBROKE.

_Gav._ O treacherous Warwick, thus to wrong thy friend!
_James._ I see it is your life these arms pursue.
_Gav._ Weaponless must I fall, and die in bands?
O, must this day be period of my life,
Centre of all my bliss? And