Enter the Nobles.
War. Upon him, soldiers, take away his weapons.
Y. Mor. Thou proud disturber of thy country's peace, Corrupter of thy king; cause of these broils,10 Base flatterer, yield! and were it not for shame, Shame and dishonour to a soldier's name, Upon my weapons point here should'st thou fall, And welter in thy gore.
Lan. Monster of men! That, like the Greekish strumpet, trained to arms And bloody wars so many valiant knights, Look for no other fortune, wretch, than death! King Edward is not here to buckler thee.
War. Lancaster, why talk'st thou to the slave? Go, soldiers, take him hence, for by my sword20 His head shall off: Gaveston, short warning Shall serve thy turn. It is our country's cause, That here severely we will execute Upon thy person: hang him at a bough.
Gav. My lords!—
War. Soldiers, have him away;— But for thou wert the favourite of a king, Thou shalt have so much honour at our hands [249]—
Gav. I thank you all, my lords: then I perceive, That heading is one, and hanging is the other, And death is all.
Enter Earl of Arundel.
Lan. How now, my lord of Arundel?30