And riot it with the treasure of the realm,
While soldiers mutiny for want of pay.
He wears a lord's revenue on his back,
And, Midas-like, he jets it in the court,
With base outlandish cullions at his heels,
Whose proud fantastic liveries make such show
As if that Proteus, god of shapes, appear'd.
I have not seen a dapper Jack so brisk:
He wears a short Italian hooded cloak,
Larded with pearl, and in his Tuscan cap
A jewel of more value than the crown.
While others walk below, the king and he,
From out a window, laugh at such as we,
And flout our train, and jest at our attire.
Uncle, 'tis this that makes me impatient.
_E. Mor._ But, nephew, now you see the king is chang'd.
_Y. Mor._ Then so I am, and live to do him service:
But, whiles I have a sword, a hand, a heart,
I will not yield to any such upstart.
You know my mind: come, uncle, let's away. [_Exeunt._

_Enter the younger_ SPENSER _and_ BALDOCK.

_Bald._ Spenser,
Seeing that our lord the Earl of Glocester's dead,
Which of the nobles dost thou mean to serve?
_Y. Spen._ Not Mortimer, nor any of his side,
Because the king and he are enemies.
Baldock, learn this of me: a factious lord
Shall hardly do himself good, much less us;
But he that hath the favour of a king
May with one word advance us while we live.
The liberal Earl of Cornwall is the man
On whose good fortune Spenser's hope depends.
_Bald._ What, mean you, then, to be his follower?
_Y. Spen._ No, his companion; for he loves me well,
And would have once preferr'd me to the king.
_Bald._ But he is banish'd; there's small hope of him.
_Y. Spen._ Ay, for a while; but, Baldock, mark the end.
A friend of mine told me in secrecy
That he's repeal'd and sent for back again;
And even now a post came from the court
With letters to our lady from the king;
And, as she read, she smil'd; which makes me think
It is about her lover Gaveston.
_Bald._ 'Tis like enough; for, since he was exil'd,
She neither walks abroad nor comes in sight.
But I had thought the match had been broke off,
And that his banishment had chang'd her mind.
_Y. Spen._ Our lady's first love is not wavering;
My life for thine, she will have Gaveston.
_Bald._ Then hope I by her means to be preferr'd,
Having read unto her since she was a child.
_Y. Spen._ Then, Baldock, you must cast the scholar off,