Publisher's Synopsis
Enter GAVESTON, reading a letter. Gav. My father is deceas'd. Come, Gaveston, And share the kingdom with thy dearest friend. Ah, words that make me surfeit with delight! What greater bliss can hap to Gaveston Than live and be the favourite of a king! Sweet prince, I come! these, thy amorous lines Might have enforc'd me to have swum from France, And, like Leander, gasp'd upon the sand, So thou wouldst smile, and take me in thine arms. The sight of London to my exil'd eyes Is as Elysium to a new-come soul: Not that I love the city or the men, But that it harbours him I hold so dear, - The king, upon whose bosom let me lie, And with the world be still at enmity.
