After the Queen has implored the nobles to restore Piers Gaveston from his second exile, Roger Mortimer comes up with a daring plan. To the surprise of the other nobles, he states that Gaveston should be permitted to return to England so that they can more effectively plot his death. In a speech in which he conveys his plans to the other lords, Mortimer metaphorically compares Gaveston to a “night-grown mushroom”:
Then may we with some colour rise in arms;
For, howsoever we have borne it out,
’Tis treason to be up against the king.
So shall we have the people of our side,
Which for his father’s sake lean to the king
But cannot brook a night-grown mushroom,
Such a one as my lord of Cornwall is,
Should bear us down of the nobility.
He acknowledges that it is “treason” to directly oppose a King and that the people of England generally support King Edward II “for his father’s sake.” Here, he references King Edward I, who was well-regarded in England for his military victories at war with Scotland. Despite their support for the King, Mortimer implies, the people of England will side with the rebellious lords if they oppose Gaveston, as they “cannot brook a night-grown mushroom.” Here, Mortimer imagines Gaveston as a mushroom that has grown quickly overnight, implying that Gaveston is an upstart who has rapidly gained power that is not warranted by his actions or experience.
The nobles are surprised to hear the Queen advocate on behalf of Gaveston, her rival for the King’s affections. Mortimer, who holds a particular distaste for Gaveston, compares him in a metaphor to a dangerous fish:
Fair queen, forbear to angle for the fish
Which, being caught, strikes him that takes it dead—
I mean that vile torpedo, Gaveston,
That now, I hope, floats on the Irish seas.
He implores the Queen not to “angle for” or catch a fish that, upon “being caught, strikes him that takes it dead.” Through this fishing metaphor, he suggests that the Queen advocates on behalf of a figure who would not hesitate to injure her if saved. Further developing the metaphor, he describes Gaveston as a “torpedo,” an archaic term for an electric ray, a fish capable of producing an electric discharge in order to stun its prey.
Concluding his short speech, he wishes that, as they speak, Gaveston “floats on the Irish seas.” This language of “floating” responds to his earlier metaphor characterizing Gaveston as a fish, but it also invokes an image of a drowned Gaveston floating atop the sea. Mortimer’s metaphor, then, summarizes the resentful feelings that the nobility have for Gaveston, a commoner.
Lancaster metaphorically compares Gaveston to a flying fish at a celebration held in court for the return of Gaveston from exile in Ireland. When King Edward II asks the various lords to explain the symbolic emblems that they have chosen to wear for the event, Lancaster states:
My lord, mine’s more obscure than Mortimer’s.
Pliny reports there is a flying fish
Which all the other fishes deadly hate,
And therefore, being pursued, it takes the air;
No sooner is it up, but there’s a fowl
That seizeth it. This fish, my lord, I bear.
Lancaster begins by stating that his emblem is more “obscure” or difficult to interpret than that of Mortimer, whose emblem depicts a tree that has been afflicted by a "canker" or disease. Lancaster then alludes to Pliny, a naturalist and philosopher in Ancient Rome. Pliny, he states, writes of a “flying fish” that is hated by “all the other fishes.” Because of this widespread hatred, the flying fish “takes the air” to escape them but finds itself nevertheless seized by a “fowl” or bird. Like Mortimer, then, Lancaster has selected a metaphorical emblem that criticizes Gaveston. Like the flying fish, Lancaster suggests, Gaveston is widely hated, and his attempts to evade his enemies will likewise prove unsuccessful.
King Edward II uses a layered metaphor that compares the two principal universities of medieval England—Oxford and Cambridge—to a “nursery” of the arts and its students to children. Fleeing from the forces of the rebelling lords, the King and his two “favourites,” Spencer and Baldock, have hidden among the monks at a monastery. Reflecting upon his predicament, his past, and his envy of those monks who live a “life contemplative,” the King states:
Come, Spencer, come, Baldock, come sit down by me;
Make trial now of that philosophy
That in our famous nurseries of arts
Thou sucked’st from Plato and from Aristotle.
Father, this life contemplative is heaven.
O, that I might this life in quiet lead!
Beckoning his attendants to sit near him, he expresses his desire to engage in the aimless philosophical debates that characterized scholastic education in Oxford and Cambridge, “our famous nurseries of arts.” Here, he imagines these schools as children’s nurseries that foster “the arts,” a category which at this time included numerous academic disciplines ranging from the humanities to science. Further developing this metaphor, he imagines the students at these colleges as infants, absorbing the lessons of Plato and Aristotle as a baby suckles on milk. In this scene, the King looks back nostalgically upon his own adolescence in an effort to distract himself from present woes.
King Edward is asked to surrender his crown after being defeated by the combined forces of the rebelling lords. Held captive under strict orders by Mortimer, he uses a metaphor that imagines kingship as an insubstantial shadow:
Methinks I should revenge me of the wrongs
That Mortimer and Isabel have done.
But what are kings, when regiment is gone,
But perfect shadows in a sunshine day?
My nobles rule, I bear the name of king;
I wear the crown but am controlled by them,
By Mortimer and my unconstant queen [...]
Edward responds fatalistically to his predicament, wishing that he could strike back against his enemies but never committing to any decisive plan of action. He feels that he should “revenge” himself of the “wrongs” inflicted against him, but he finds himself unable to act without the assistance of his attendants and soldiers.
Kings, he suggests, are nothing but “perfect shadows in a sunshine day” without the military support that enforces their rule. Just as a shadow disappears in bright light, Edward imagines that his own Kingship—the qualities and powers imbued in the figure of the King—have disappeared. Edward’s metaphor, then, suggests that the power of a King isn't an essential trait inherent to an individual but, instead, a social phenomenon that requires the willing participation of all parties.
In a conversation with Leicester, King Edward uses a metaphor that compares different classes of English society to animals. At this point in the play, the King and his forces have been soundly defeated by those of the rebelling lords, and the King reflects mournfully upon his impending downfall. Leicester, relatively sympathetic to the King, asks him to surrender his crown willingly, and Edward states:
The forest deer, being struck,
Runs to an herb that closeth up the wounds,
But when the imperial lion’s flesh is gored,
He rends and tears it with his wrathful paw,
And, highly scorning that the lowly earth
Should drink his blood, mounts up into the air;
And so it fares with me
Here, the King compares his own circumstances as a monarch to those of a subject. A deer, he states, “runs to an herb” when it is injured and is healed. In his layered metaphor, he suggests that normal citizens are able to take action to solve their own problems and save themselves from injury or death. “But,” he states, “when the imperial lion’s flesh is gored,” he is not able to address his injury so simply. Because of his high status at the top of the animal kingdom, the lion “rends and tears” at his own injury, proudly refusing to allow the “lowly earth” to absorb his own blood.
A King, he implies, must maintain his own dignity even at the cost of self-destruction. Through this animal metaphor, Edward reflects upon the limited choices available to him as he is forced to abdicate the throne.
Mortimer compares himself metaphorically to a tall tree and his enemies to small shrubs after receiving word that his order to murder the imprisoned former King Edward has been carried out. Speaking with Matrevis, who assisted in the murder, Mortimer states:
As for myself, I stand as Jove’s huge tree,
And others are but shrubs compared to me;
All tremble at my name, and I fear none.
Let’s see who dare impeach me for his death?
Writers in Ancient Rome often described the oak tree as sacred to Jupiter, the Latin equivalent of Jove. Here, Mortimer imagines himself as “Jove’s huge tree,” or, in other words, an oak. In comparison, the other lords are “but shrubs” who “tremble” at his name. He contentedly imagines himself towering over his subjects once he has assumed the power of a King and enjoys complete power.
His botanical metaphors reflect a key motif in the play: the treatment of England as a garden and the King as a tall tree at its center. As his language here suggests, Mortimer has changed greatly throughout the course of the play. Where he once defended the right of the lords to oppose the King and defend their own interests, he now craves the power to rule with complete authority and terrify his enemies.
