Y. Mor. The name of Mortimer shall fright the king, Unless he be declined from that base peasant.
Enter the King, Gaveston, and Kent.
Edw. What, are you moved that Gaveston sits here? It is our pleasure, and we will have it so.
Lan. Your grace doth well to place him by your side,10 For nowhere else the new earl is so safe.
E. Mor. What man of noble birth can brook this sight? Quam male conveniunt! [190] See what a scornful look the peasant casts!
Pem. Can kingly lions fawn on creeping ants?
War. Ignoble vassal, that like Phaeton Aspir'st unto the guidance of the sun.
Y. Mor. Their downfall is at hand, their forces down: We will not thus be faced and over-peered.
Edw. Lay hands on [191] that traitor Mortimer!20
E. Mor. Lay hands on that traitor Gaveston!