arms?
_Bald._ My name is Baldock, and my gentry
I fetch from Oxford, not from heraldry.
_K. Edw._ The fitter art thou, Baldock, for my turn.
Wait on me, and I'll see thou shalt not want.
_Bald._ I humbly thank your majesty.
_K. Edw._ Knowest thou him, Gaveston.
_Gav._ Ay, my lord;
His name is Spenser; he is well allied:
For my sake let him wait upon your grace;
Scarce shall you find a man of more desert.
_K. Edw._ Then, Spenser, wait upon me for his sake:
I'll grace thee with a higher style ere long.
_Y. Spen._ No greater titles happen unto me
Than to be favour'd of your majesty!
_K. Edw._ Cousin, this day shall be your marriage feast:--
And, Gaveston, think that I love thee well,
To wed thee to our niece, the only heir
Unto the Earl of Glocester late deceas'd.
_Gav._ I know, my lord, many will stomach me;
But I respect neither their love nor hate.
_K. Edw._ The headstrong barons shall not limit me;
He that I list to favour shall be great.
Come, let's away; and, when the marriage ends,
Have at the rebels and their complices! [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ KENT, LANCASTER, _the younger_ MORTIMER,
WARWICK, PEMBROKE, _and others._

_Kent._ My lords, of love to this our native land,
I come to join with you, and leave the king;
And in your quarrel, and the realm's behoof,
Will be the first that shall adventure life.
_Lan._ I fear me, you are sent of policy,
To undermine us with a show of love.
_War._ He is your brother; therefore have we cause
To cast the worst, and doubt of your revolt.
_Kent._ Mine honour shall be hostage of my truth:
If that will not suffice, farewell, my lords.
_Y. Mor._ Stay, Edmund: never was Plantagenet
False of his word; and therefore trust we thee.
_Pem._ But what's the reason you should leave him now?
_Kent._ I have inform'd the Earl of Lancaster.
_Lan._ And it sufficeth. Now, my lords, know this,
That Gaveston is secretly arriv'd,
And here in Tynmouth frolics with the king.
Let us with these our followers scale the walls,
And suddenly surprise them unawares.
_Y. Mor._ I'll give the onset.
_War._ And I'll follow thee.
_Y. Mor._ This tatter'd ensign of my ancestors,
Which swept the desert shore of that Dead Sea
Whereof we got the name of Mortimer,
Will I advance upon this castle ['s] walls--
Drums, strike alarum, raise them from their sport,
And ring aloud the kn