University of Virginia Library

SCEANE. V.

Enter Marian, with a white apron.
Mar.
What Much? What Iinny? Much? I say.

Much.
Whats the matter mistresse?

Mar.
I pray thee see, the fueller
Suffer the cooke to want no wodde.
Good Lord, where is this idle girle?
Why Iinny?

[Iinny]
Within.
I come forsooth.

Mar.
I pray thee bring the flowers forth.

Much.

Ile goe send her mistres, and help the cookes, if
they haue any neede.

Exit Much.

Mar.
Dispatch good Much. What Iin I say?

Enter Iinny.
Much.
Hie yee, hie yee: she cals for life.

Mar.
Indeede, indeede, you doe me wrong,
To let me cry, and call so long.

Iin.
Forsooth, I strawed the dining bowers.
And smoth'd the walkes with hearbes & flowers,
The yeomens tables I haue spred,
Drest salts, laid trenchers, set on bread:
Nay all is well, I warrant you.

Mar.
You are not well I promise you,
Your foresleeues are not pind (fie, fie)
And all your hed-geere stands awry.
Giue me the flowers: Goe in for shame,
And quickly see you mend the same.

Exit Iinny.
Marian strewing flowers. Enter sir Doncaster, Prior.
Don.
How busie mistresse Marian is?
She thinkes this is her day of blisse.

Pri.
But it shall be the wofull'st day
That euer chaunst her, if I may.

Mar.
Why are you two thus in the ayre?
Your wounds are greene,
Good cuz haue care.

Pri.
Thanks for your kindnesse, gentle maid.
My cosin Robert vs hath praid,
To helpe him in this businesse.

Enter Frier.
Fri.
Sir Doncaster, sir Doncaster?

Don.
Holla.

Fri.
I pray you, did you see the Prior?

Pri.
Why, here I am. What wouldst thou Frier.

Fri.
The king is heated in the chace,
And posteth hitherward apace.
He told my master he was dry,
And hee desires ye, presently
To send the drinke whereof ye spake.

Hornes blowe.
Pri.
Come, it is here; haste let vs make

Exeunt Prior, and Frier.
Enter King, Iohn, Queene, Scarlet, Scathlocke, Ely, Fitzwater, Salsbury, Chester. Marian kneeles downe.
Mar.
Most gratious Soueraigne, welcome once againe:
Welcome to you, and all your princely traine.

King.
Thanks louely hostesse: we are homely guests.
Wheres Robin Hood? He promised me some drinke.

Mar.
Your handmaid. Robin will not then be long.
The Frier indeede came running to his vnkle,
Who with sir Doncaster were here with mee,
And altogether went for such a drinke.

Kin.
Well, in a better time it could not come,
For I am very hot and passing dry.

Enter Robin Hoode, a cuppe, a towell, leading Doncaster: Tuck, and Much pulling the Prior.
Rob.
Traitor, Ile draw thee out before the king.

Fri.
Come murderous Prior.

Much.
Come yee dogges face.

Ki
Why how now Robin? wheres ye drink you bring?

Rob.
Lay holde on these.
Farre be it, I should bring your Maiestie,
The drinke these two prepared for your taste.

King.
Why Robin Hoode, be briefe and answere mee:
I am amazed at thy troubled lookes.

Rob.
Long will not my ill lookes amaze your Grace.
I shortly looke, neuer to looke againe.

Mar.
Neuer to looke? What will it still be night?
If thou looke neuer, day can neuer be.
What ailes my Robin? Wherfore dost thou faint?

Rob.
Because I cannot stand: yet now I can.
Thans to my king, and thanks to Marian.

King.
Robin be briefe, and tell vs what hath chanst?

Rob.
I must be briefe, for I am sure of death,
Before a long tale can be halfe way tolde.

Fitz.
Of death, my sonne? bright sunne of all my ioy?
Death cannot haue the power of vertuous life.

Rob.
Not of the vertues, but the life it can.

King.
What dost thou speak of death? how shouldst thou die?

Rob.
By poison, and the Priors treachery.

Qu.
Why, take this soueraigne pouder at my hāds,
Take it and liue in spite of poysons power.

Don.
I, set him forward. Powders quoth ye? hah,
I am a foole then, if a little dust,
The shauing of a horne, a Bezars stone,
Or any Antidote haue power to stay
The execution of my hearts resolue.
Tut, tut, you labour louely Queene, in vaine,
And on a thanklesse groome your toyle bestowe.
Now hath your foe reueng'd you of your foe:
Robin shall die, if all the world sayd no.

Mar.
How the Wolfe howles! Fly like a tender Kid
Into thy sheepeheards bosome. Shield mee loue.
Canst thou not Robin? Where shall I be hid?
O God, these Rauens will seaze vpon thy Doue.

Rob.
They cannot hurt thee, pray thee doe not feare,
Base curres will couch, the Lyon being neare.

Qu.
How workes my powder?

Rob.
Uery well, faire Queene.

King.
Dost thou feele any ease?

Rob.
I shall, I trust, anone:
Sleepe fals vpon mine eyes.
O I must sleepe, & they that loue me, do not waken me.

Mar.
Sleepe in my lap, and I will sing to thee.

Ioh.
He should not sleepe.

Rob.
I must, for I must die:
While I liue therfore let me haue some rest.

Fitz.
I, let him rest, the poyson vrges sleepe.
When he awakes, there is no hope of life.

Don.
Of life? now by the little time I haue to liue,
He cannot liue one hower for your liues.

King.
Uillaine what art thou?

Don.
Why, I am a knight.

Chest.
Thou wert indeede.
If it so please your Grace,
I will describe my knowledge of this wretch.

Kin.
Doe Chester.

Chest.
This Doncaster, for so the fellon hight,
Was, by the king your father, made a knight,
And well in armes he did himselfe behaue.
Many a bitter storme, the winde of rage
Blasted this Realme with, in those woful daies,
When the vnnaturall fights continued,
Betweene your kingly father and his sonnes.
This cut-throat, knighted in that time of woe,
Seaz'd on a beautious Nunne, at Barkhamsted,
As wee were marching toward Winchester,
After proud Lincolne was compeld to yield,
Hee tooke this virgine straying in the field:
For all the Nunnes and euery Couent fled
The daungers that attended on our troopes.
For those sad times too oft did testifie,
Wars rage hath no regard of pietie.
She humbly praid him, for the loue of heauen,
To guid her to her fathers, two miles thence.
He swore he would, and very well he might:
For to the campe he was a Forager.
Upon the way they came into a wood,
Wherein, in briefe, he stript this tender maid:
Whose lust, when she in vaine had long withstood,
Being by strength and torments ouerlaid,
He did a sacrilegious deede of rape,
And left her bath'd in her owne teares and blood.
When she reuiu'd, she to her fathers got,
And got her father to make iust complaint,
Unto your mother, being then in campe.

Qu.
Is this the villaine Chester, that defilde
Sir Eustace Stutuiles chast and beautious childe?

Don.
I Madam, this is hee,
That made a wench daunce naked in a wood:
And for shee did denie what I desirde,
I scourg'd her for her pride, till her faire skinne
With stripes was checkred like a vintners grate.
And what was this? A mighty matter sure.
I haue a thousand more than she defilde,
And cut the squeaking throats of some of them:
I grieue I did not hirs,

Qu.
Punish him Richard.
A fairer virgine neuer sawe the sunne—
A chaster maid was neuer sworne a Nunne.

King.
How scap't the villaine punishment, that time?

Fitz.
I rent his spurres off, and disgraded him.

Chest.
And then he raild vpon the Queene and mee.
Being committed, he his keeper slue,
And to your father fled, who pardond him.

Rich.
God giue his soule a pardon for that sinne.

Sals.
O had I heard his name, or seene his face,
I had defended Robin from this chance.
Ah, villaine shut those gloomy lights of thine.
Remembrest thou a little sonne of mine,
Whose nurse at Wilton first thou rauishedst,
And slew'st two maids that did attend on them?

Don.
I grant, I dasht the braines out of a brat,
Thine if he were, I care not: had he bin
The first borne comfort of a royall king,
And should haue yald when Doncaster cried peace,
I would haue done by him as then I did.

King.
Soone shall the world be rid of such a wretch,

Let him be hangd aliue, in the high way, that ioyneth to
the power.

Don.
Aliue or deade, I reck not how I die.
You, them, and these, I desperately defie.

Ely.
Repent, or neuer looke to be absolu'd,
But die accurst as thou deseruest well.

Don.
Then giue me my desert; curse one by one.

Ely.
First I accurse thee, and, if thou persist,
Unto damnation leaue thee wretched man.

Don.
What doe I care for your damnation?
Am I not doom'd to death? what more damnation
Can there insue your loud and yelling cryes?

Pri.
Yes diuell: heare thy fellowe spirit speake,
Who would repent; O faine he would repent.
After this bodies bitter punishment,
There is an euer-during endlesse woe,
A quenchlesse fire, an vnconsuming paine,
Which desperate soules and bodies must indure.

Don.
Can you preach this, yet set me on sir Prior,
To runne into this endlesse, quenchlesse fier?

Pri.
High heauens shewe mercie to my many ils.
Neuer had this bene done, but like a fiend,
Thou temptedst me with ceaselesse diuelish thoughts.
Therefore I curse, with bitternesse of soule,
The hower wherein I saw thy balefull eyes.
My eyes I curse, for looking on those eyes.
My eares I curse, for harkning to thy tongue.
I curse thy tongue for tempting of myne eares.
Each part I curse, that wee call thine or mine:
Thine for enticing mine, mine following thine.

Don.
A holy prayer. what Collect haue we next?

This time Robin stirres.
Fitz.
My Marian wanteth words, such is her woe:
But old Fitzwater for his girle and him
Begs nothing, but worlds plague for such a foe,
Which causelesse harmd a vertuous noble man,
A pitier of his griefes, when he felt griefe:
Therefore bethinke thee of thy hatefull deede,
Thou faithlesse Prior, and thou this ruthlesse theefe.

Pri.
Will no man curse me, giuing so much cause?
Then Doncaster, our selues our selues accurse,
And let no good betide to thee or mee.
All the yeomen, Frier, Much, Iinny cry;

All.
Amen, amen: accursed may ye bee,
For murdring Robin, flower of curtesie.

Robin sits vp.
Rob.
O ring not such a peale for Robins death,
Let sweete forgiuenesse be my passing bell.
Art thou there Marian? then fly forth my breath:
To die within thy armes contents me well.

Pri.
Keepe in, keepe in a little while thy soule,
Till I haue powr'd my soule forth at thy feete.

Rob.
I slept not vnkle, I your griefe did heare,
Let him forgiue your soule that bought it deare:
Your bodies deede, I in my death forgiue,
And humbly begge the king that you may liue.
Stand to your Cleargie vnkle, saue your life,
And lead a better life than you haue done.

Pri.
O gentle Nephew, ah my brothers sonne,
Thou dying glory of old Huntington,
Wishest thou life to such a murdrous foe?
I will not liue, sith thou must life forgoe.
Oh happie Warman, blessed in thy end,
Now too too late thy truth I doe commend.
O Nephew, Nephew, Doncaster and I
Murdred poore Warman, for he did denie
To ioyne with vs in this blacke tragedy.

Rob.
Alas poore Warman. Frier, little Iohn,
I told ye both where Warmans bodie lay:
And of his buriall Ile dispose anone.

King.
Is there no lawe, Lord Ely, to conuict,
This Prior, that confesseth murders thus?

Ely.
He is a hallowed man, and must be tried,
And punisht by the censure of the Church.

Pri.
The Church therein doth erre: God doth allowe
No Canon to preserue a murderers life.
Richard, king Richard, in thy Grandsires daies,
A law was made, the Cleargie sworne thereto,
That whatsoeuer Church-man did commit
Treason, or murder, or false felonie,
Should like a seculer be punished.
Treason we did, for sure we did intend
King Richards poisoning, Soueraigne of this land.
Murder we did in working Warmans end,
And my deare Nephewes, by this fatall hand.
And theft we did, for we haue robd the king,
The State, the Nobles, Commons, and his men,
Of a true Peere, firme Piller, liberall Lord.
Fitzwater we haue robd of a kinde sonne,
And Marians loue-ioyes we haue quite vndoone.

Don.
Whoppe, what a coyle is here wt your confession?

Pri.
I aske but iudgement for my foule transgression.

King.
Thy own mouth hath condemned thee.
Hence with him.
Hang this man dead, then see him buried:
But let the other hang aliue in chaines.

Don.
I thanke you sir.

Exeunt yeomen, Frier, prisoners, Much.
Ioh.
My selfe will goe, my Lord,
And see sharpe Iustice done vpon these slaues.

Rob.
O goe not hence Prince Iohn: a word or two
Before I die, I faine would say to you.

King.
Robin, wee see what we are sad to see,
Death like a champion treading downe thy life:
Yet in thy end somwhat to comfort thee,
Wee freely giue to thy betrothed wife,
Beautious and chast Matilda, all those lands,
Falne by thy folly, to the Priors hands,
And by his fault now forfetted to mee:
Earle Huntington, she shall thy Countesse bee,
And thy wight yeomen, they shall wend with mee,
Against the faithlesse enemies of Christ.

Rob.
Bring forth a Beere, and couer it with greene;
A Beere is brought in.
That on my death-bed I may here sit downe.
Beere brought, he sits.
At Robins buriall let no blacke be seene,
Let no hand giue for him a mourning gowne:
For in his death, his king hath giuen him life,
By this large gift, giuen to his maiden wife.
Chaist maid Matilda, Countesse of account,
Chase with thy bright eyes, all these clouds of woe,
From these faire cheekes, I pray thee sweete do so.
Thinke it is bootelesse folly, to complaine,
For that which neuer can be had againe.
Queene Elianor, you once were Matilds foe:
Prince Iohn, you long sought her vnlawfull loue:
Let dying Robin Hood intreat you both,
To change those passions Madame turne your hate,
To princely loue; Prince Iohn, conuert your loue
To vertuous passions, chast and moderate.
O that your gratious right hands would infolde,
Matildas right hand, prisoned in my palme,
And sweare to doe what Robin Hood desires.

Qu.
I sweare I will, I will a mother be,
To faire Matildas life and chastitie.

Ioh.
When Iohn solicites chast Matildaes eares,
With lawlesse sutes, as he hath often done:
Or offers to the altars of her eyes,
Lasciuious Poems, stuft with vanities,
He craues to see but short and sower daies,
His death be like to Robins he desires,
His periur'd body proue a poysoned prey,
For cowled Monkes, and barefoote begging Friers.

Rob.
Inough, inough, Fitzwater, take your child:
My dying frost which no sunnes heat can thawe,
Closes the powers of all my outward parts,
My freezing blood runnes backe vnto my heart,
Where it assists death, which it would resist:
Only my loue a little hinders death.
For he beholds her eyes, and cannot smite:
Then goe not yet Matilda, stay a while.
Frier, make speede, and list my latest will.

Mar.
O let mee looke, for euer in thy eyes,
And lay my warme breath to thy bloodlesse lips,
If my sight can restraine deaths tyrannies,
Or keepe liues breath within thy bosome lockt.

Rob.
Away, away,
Forbeare, my loue: all this is but delay.

Fitz.
Come maiden daughter, from my maiden sonne,
And giue him leaue to doe what must be done.

Rob.
First I bequeath my soule to all soules sauer,
And will my bodie to be buried,
At Wakefield, vnderneath the Abbey wall:
And in this order make my funerall;
When I am dead, stretch me vpon this Beere,
My beades and Primer shall my pillowe bee:
On this side lay my bowe, my good shafts here,
Upon my brest the crosse, and vnderneath,
My trustie sworde, thus fastned in the sheath.
Let Warmans bodie at my feete be laid,
Poore Warman, that in my defence did die,
For holy dirges, sing me wodmens songs,
As ye to Wakefield walke, with voices shrill:
This for my selfe: my goods and plate I giue
Among my yeomen: them I doe bestowe,
Upon my Soueraigne, Richard. This is all.
My liege farewell, my loue farewell, farewell.
Farewell faire Queene, Prince Iohn and noble Lords.
Father Fitzwater heartily adieu,
Adieu my yeomen tall.
Matilda close mine eyes.
Frier farewell, farewell to all.

Mar.
O must my hands with enuious death conspire,
To shut the morning gates of my liues light?

Fitz.
It is a duetie, and thy loues desire,
Ile helpe thee girle to close vp Robins sight.

King.
Laments are bootelesse, teares cannot restore
Lost life: Matilda, therefore weepe no more.
And since our mirth is turned into mone,
Our merry sport, to tragick funerall,
Wee will prepare our power for Austria,
After earle Roberts timelesse buriall.
Fall to your wod-songs therefore yeomen bold,
And deck his herse with flowers, that lou'd you deare,
Dispose his goods, as hee hath them dispos'd.
Fitzwater and Matilda, bide you here,
See you the bodie vnto Wakefield borne,
A little wee will beare yee company,
But all of vs at London point to meete:
Thither Fitzwater, bring earle Robins men:
And Frier, see you come along with them.

Fri.
Song.

Exeunt.
Fri.
Here dothe the Frier leaue with grieuance:
Robin is deade, that grac't his entrance:
And being dead he craues his audience,
With this short play, they would haue patience.

Enter Chester.
Chest.
Nay Fryer, at request of thy kinde friend,
Let not thy Play so soone be at an end.
Though Robin Hoode be deade, his yeomen gone,
And that thou thinkst there now remaines not one,
To act an other Sceane or two for thee:
Yet knowe full well, to please this company,
We meane to end Matildaes Tragedie.

Fri.
Off then, I wish you, with your Kendall greene:
Let not sad griefe, in fresh aray be seene.
Matildaes storie is repleat with teares,
Wrongs, desolations, ruins, deadly feares.
In, and attire yee: though I tired be,
Yet will I tell my mistresse Tragedie.
Apolloes master doone I inuocate:
To whome henceforth my deedes I dedicate:
That of his Godhead, 'boue all Gods diuine,
With his rich spirit he would lighten mine:
That I may sing true layes of trothlesse deedes,
Which to conceiue, my heart through sorrow bleeds.
Cheere thee, sad soule, and in a loftie line,
Thunder out wrong, compast in clowdy teares.
Enter in blacke.
Shewe to the eyes, fill the beholders eares,
With all the liuely acts of lustfull rage,
Restraind by modest teares, and chastities intreats,
And let king Iohn that ill part personage,
By sutes, deuices, practices and threats:
And when he sees all serueth to no end,
Of chaste Matilda let him make an end.

Cho.
We are all fitted, Frier, shall we beginne?

Fri.
Well art thou suted: would my order would
Permit me habit equall to my heart.

Cho.
If you remember, Iohn did take an oath,
Neuer againe to seeke Matildaes loue.

Fri.
O what is he, thats sworne affections slaue,
That will not violate all lawes, all oathes?
And being mightie, what will he omit,
To compasse his intents, though nere so ill?
You must suppose king Richard now is deade,
And Iohn (resistlesse) is faire Englands Lord:
Who striuing to forget Matildaes loue,
Takes to his wife the beautious Isabell,
Betroth'd to Hugh de Briu, Earle of North March:
And picking quarrels vnder shewe of kinne,
Wholly diuorces his first Queene away:
But yet Matilda, still, still trobles him,
And being in the Court, so oft he courts her,
That by her noble father, old Fitzwater,
She is remoou'd from his lust-tempting eye.
But tides restraind, ore swell their bounds with rage:
Her absence addes more fuell to his fire.
In sleepe he sees her, and his waking thoughts,
Studie by day to compasse his desire.

Cho.
Frier, since now you speake of visions,
It was receiued by tradition,
From those that were right neere vnto king Iohn,
Of three strange visions, that to him appeard:
And as I guesse, I tould you what they were.

Fri,
With them I will begin: draw but that vaile,
And there king Iohn sits sleeping in his chaire.

Drawe the curten, the king sits sleeping, his sworde by

---

his side. Enter Austria, before whome commeth Ambition: and bringing him before the chaire, king Iohn, in sleepe, maketh signes to auoid, and holdeth his owne crowne fast with both his hands.
Fri.
Ambition, that had euer waited on king Iohn,
Now brings him Austria, easie to be tane,
Being wholly tam'd by Richards warlike hand,
And bids him adde that Dukedome to his crowne:
But he puts by Ambition, and contemnes
All other kingdomes, but the English crowne,
Which he holds fast, as if hee would not loose.

Enter Constance, leading young Arthur: both offer to take the crowne; but with his foote he ouerturneth them: to them commeth Insurrection, ledde by the F. K. and L. menacing him, and lead the childe againe to the chaire: but he only layeth hand on his sworde, and with his foote ouerthroweth the childe, whome they take vp as deade: and Insurrection flying, they mournefully beare in the bodie.
Fr.
The Ladie and the childe that did ascend,
Striuing in vaine to take the crowne from Iohn,
Were Constance, and her sonne the Duke of Britaine,
Heire to the elder brother of the king.
Yet hee sleepes on, and with a little spurne,
The mother and the Prince doth ouerturne.
Againe when Insurrection them assists,
Stird by the French king, and the wronged Earle,
Whose troth-plight wife, king Iohn had tane to wife,
He only claps his hand vpon his sword,
Mocketh their threatnings, and in their attempts,
The harmelesse Prince receiues recurelesse death,
Whome they too late with bootelesse teares lament.

Enter Queene, with two children borne after her: she ascends, and seeing no motion, she fetcheth her children one by one; but seeing yet no motion, she descēdeth wringing her hands, and departeth. Enter Matilda, in mourning vaile, reading on a booke, at whose comming he starteth, and sitteth vpright: as shee passeth by, hee smiles, and foldes his armes, as if hee did embrace her; being gone, he starts sodainly, and speakes.
King.
Matilda, stay Matilda, doe but speake:
Whoes there? Intreate Matilda to come backe.

Bon.
Who would you haue, my Lord?

Kin.
Why, my Lord Bonuill: I would haue Matilda:
That but euen now, past by toward the doore.

Bon.
I sawe her not my Lord.

King.
Hadst thou a louers eye,
A gnat, a moate, a shadowe thou wouldst spy:
Come followe me, she cannot be so farre,
But I shall ouertake her: come away.

Exeunt.
Fri.
The last appearance shadowed the faire Queene,
And her two children, at whose sight king Iohn
Shewd neither signe nor shewe of passion:
But when the sunne came masked in a cloude,
And vailed beautie, ioynde with chastitie,
Appeared in Matildaes louely shape,
He starts, he claspes, he wakes, he cals, he seekes
The shadowe of that substance he affects:
To her he sewes, but she his sute reiects:
To him she sewes, but he her sute neglectes:
He sues to be her loue, she doth despise:
She sues to liue a maid, which he denies.
What followes of this wilfull will, and shall,
This no and nay, this quenchlesse, bootlesse fire,
This cold affection, and this hot desire,
The act it selfe shall tell, and the poore Frier,
Your partiall fauours humbly doth require.

Exit.
Sound trumpets. Enter king, Bonuile, Salsbury, Lore;s.
King.
Now I perceiue, this only was a dreame:
Diuine Matildaes Angell did appeare,
Deckt like a Uestall, readie for heauens quire,
And to this earthly truncke will not come neare.
Well, let her goe: I must yfaith, I must,
And so I will: kings thoughts should be diuine:
So are Matildaes, so henceforth shall mine.

Old Anb.
So doing, peace shall wait vpon your crown,
And blessing vpon blessing shall befall.

Kin.
Its true my Lord, I know full well there shall.

Sals.
Your people will wax proud of such a king,
That of himselfe is king, Lord of his thoughts:
Which by assertion of Philosophers,
Is held to be the greatest Empery.

Kin.
And they said wisely, noble Aubery.

Sals.
Then will Fitzwater with his gallant troopes,
Againe keepe triumphes in the English Court.
Then will Matilda

King.
Matilda, what of her?

Sals.
Like a bright starre, adorne the louely traine
Of beautious Ladies, which attend the Queene,
Whose only beauty equalleth them all.

Ki.
Like an old foole, whose dim eyes wanting sight,
Compar'st the sunne, to common candle light.

Sals.
Pardon my liege: I doe confesse, her faire
Exceedes all these, as farre as day doth night.

King.
Grossely alluded: night by moone, by starres,
By wandring sires, exhaled meteors,
By artificiall lightes, by eyes of beastes,
And little glow-wormes, glimpsing in the darke,
Hath somewhere brightnesse, lightnesse, and somtime
Under each Horizon in all parts cleare:
But they at no time, no where can be said
To be lesse darke, then dungeon darkenesse is.
Pitch coloured, Eban fac't, blacker than blacke,
While her faire eyes giues beauty to bright day.

Sal.
To heare the Queene thus prais'd works my contēt.

Kin.

The Queene? O, had I such a thought I would
repent.

To himselfe.
Sal.
Further my Lord.

King.
What shall we further wade?
I feare I shall be tyred with this iade.

Sal.
The common-wealth will florish & encrease.

K.
Good Oxford of those things now hold your peace:
And take the paines to fetch in Isabell.
I haue strange tydings sent me out of France,
Which she will take, I knowe, in as good part,
As I accept her praise: fetch her I say.
Exit Salsbury.
What is the old foole gone? now goe thy way.
What thinkst thou of him Hubert? tell me man.

Hub.
As of a good old gentleman my Lord,
That speaks but what he thinks, & thinks you thinke
As he doth: and I warrant you
Will not conceale those praises from the Queene,
Which as hee deemes you vttred in her praise.

Kin.
I would haue them beleeue it so indeede:
But I protest, is no part of my Creede.

Hu.
Ifaith your Grace did Oxfords years great wrōg,
To curtall his good worke, that seem'd so long:
He peraduenture would haue brought in more,
After his Preface, to rich plenties store.
Perchaunce he would haue shew'd dame vanitie,
That in your Court is suffered howerly:
And bad you punish ruffians with long haire,
Newe fashions, and such toyes: a special care
Has that good man: he turnes the statute booke:
About his hall and chambers if you looke,
The morall vertues in faire effigie,
Are liuely painted: morall Philosophie
Has not a sentence, be it great or small,
But it is painted on his Honours wall.

Enter Queene, Oxford.
Kin.
Peace, peace, he comes, now lets be silent all.

Sals.
I tell you I was proud of his good words.

Qu.
God hold them Oxford: for its often seene,
A reconciled foe small good affords.

Sals.
O forbeare: trust me, I gage my Honour he doth hold you deare.

King.
How cheere you Isabell? The earle, your spouse
Hath sent defiance to the king your husband,
And like a tried tall souldier, fled his holds
In Marchland; Where he knowes, despight of him,
And all the men that he therein can raise,
King Iohn could haue sent dogs enowe to teare
Their ill arm'd bodies peece-meale, ere his bands
Should with base blood haue staind their noble hāds.
And whether is this worshipfull good Earle
(This first loue, old loue, newe loue if you will)
Gone thinks your Ladishippe? Forsooth, good man,
To Normandy; and there he stirs vp coales,
And vrgeth strong aid for confederates,
Who, as he saies, are treacherously dispos'd.

Qu.
If he doe so, the greater is his sinne:
Poore man, I haue no interest in him.

King.
But he hath had in you, as it should seeme,
Els would he not make sonnets of your browe,
Your eye, your lip, your hand, your thigh,
A plague vpon him, how came he so nigh?
Nay, now you haue the curst queanes counterfet:
Through rage you shake, because you cannot raue.
But answere me; Why should the Bedlam slaue
Entitle a whole Poem to your kisse,
Calling it chery, ruby, this and this?
I tell you, I am iealous of your loue,
Which makes me breake into this passion.
Here's the kinde noble Aubery de Vere,
Knowes what I speake is true:
My Lord, my Lord, I doe appeale to you:
Are these things to be borne?

Sal.
No by the Roode,
These loue-rimes are the tokens of small good.

Hu.
Why my good Lord, was neuer Poetry,
Offred vnto a Ladies patronage?

Sals.
Yes, but not taken.

Hu.
Yes, and taken too.
Though muddy slaues, whose ballatizing rimes,
With words vnpolisht, shewe their brutish thoughts,
Naming their Maukins in each lustfull line:
Let no celestiall beautie looke awry,
When well writ poemes, couching her rich praise,
Are offerd to her vnstain'd vertues eye.
For Poetries high sprighted sonnes will raise,
True beautie to all wisht eternitie:
Therefore my Lord, your age is much to blame,
To thinke a taken Poeme Ladies shame.

Sa.
You see the King, thats better read than you,
And far more wrongd than I, takes it not wel.

Ki.
Yes but I doe: I thinke not Isabell, Lord,
The worse for any writing of Brunes.

Sa.
Will you ha the troth my Lord? I thinke so too:
And though I be an old man, by my sword,
My arme shall iustifie my constant word.

Qu.
After a long storme in a troublous sea,
The Pilot is no gladder of a calme,
Than Isabell to see the vexed lookes
Of her lou'd Lord, chang'd into sweete aspects.

Kin.
I will not tell thee what a world of foes,
For thy loue (deare loue) rise against my life.
To himselfe.
(Matildaes loue: fewe swords will fight for thee)
I will not number vp the many woes
That shall be multiplied, strife vpon strife
Will follow; But to shunne insuing ils,
Ile take shuch pledges as shall please me aske,
Of each proud Baron, dwelling in the Realme.
Bruse kinsman, and the deputie to March,
Hath a high-minded Lady to his wife,
An able sonne for armes, and a lesse boy,
That is the comfort of his fathers life:
Madame, I know you loue the Lady well,
And of her wealth you may be bold to build,
By sending you foure hundred white milch kine,
And ten like coloured bulles, to serue that heard:
So faire, that euery cow did Iö seeme,
And euery bull Europaes rauisher.
To friend my selfe with such a subiects truth,
Thus I commaund; You, and Earle Salsbury
Shall, with what speede conueniently ye may,
Hye ye to Gilford, there the Ladie lies,
And her sonnes too, as I am told by spies:
All that she hath, I knowe she calleth yours,
All that she hath, I gladly would call mine,
If she abuse yee: if she vse yee well,
For euer be, what she retaines, her owne:
Only goe by as Queenes in progresse doe,
And send me word how she receiueth you.

Qu.
Well, I auouch she will, before I goe,
Farre be it, Iohn should prooue Lord Bruses foe.
Come noble Oxford, I long to be at Gilford.

Sals.
In such a businesse, Madam, so doe I.

Exeunt.
King.
Goe on, good stales, now Gilford is mine owne.
Hubert, I charge you take an hundred horse,
And followe vnto Gilford Castle gates,
The Queene, pretend, you come to tend vpon,
Sent carefully from vs: when you are in,
Boldly demaund the Lady for her sonnes,
For pledges of her husbands faith and hers:
Whome when yee haue, vpon the Castle seize,
And keepe it to our vse vntill we come:
Meane while let me alone with Hugh your sonne,
To worke a wonder, if no prodigie:
But, whatsoere, it shall attempted be.

Hub.
Euen that which to your Maiestie
May seeme contentfull, thereto I agree.

King.
Goe then to Gilford, and a victor be.
Exit Hub.
Moubray, our maske? are you and Chester ready?

Mow.
We will before your Grace, I warrant you.

King.
How thinkst of it, Mowbray?

Hu.
As on a maske; but for our torch-bearers,
Hell cannot rake so mad a crewe as I.

King.
Faith, who is chiefe?

Hu.
Will Brand, my Lord.
But then your Grace must curbe his cruelty:
The raigne once got, he's apt for villanie.

Kin.
I knowe the villaine is both rough and grim:
But as a ty-dogge I will muzzle him.
Ile bring him vp to fawne vpon my friends,
And worry dead my foes. But to our maske.
I meane this night to reuell at the feast,
Where faire Matilda graceth euery guest:
And if my hidden curtesie she grace,
Old Bainards Castle good Fitzwaters place,
Iohn will make rich, with royall Englands wealth:
But if she do not: not those scattred bands,
Dropping from Austria, and the Holy land,
That boast so much of glorious victories,
Shall stoppe the inundations of those woes,
That like a deluge I will bring on them:
I knowe the crue is there, banish all feares:
If wrongd, they shall be ours, if welcome, theirs.

Exeūt
Enter Fitzwater and his sonne Bruse, and call forth his daughter.
Fitz.
Why how now votary? still at your booke?
Euer in mourning weedes? For shame, for shame,
With better entertainement cheere our friends.
Now by the blest crosse you are much too blame,
To crosse our mirth thus; you are much too blame I say.
Good Lord, hath neuer woe inough of wellada!
Indeed, indeede,
Some sorrow fits: but this is more than neede.

Mat.
Good father pardon me,
You saw I sate the supper and the banquet,
You knowe I cannot dance, discourse I shunne:
By reason that my wit, but small before,
Comes farre behinde the ripe wits of our age.

Young B.
Youl be too ripe for mariage,
If you delay, by day, and day, thus long,
There is the noble Wigmore, lord of the March,
That lyes on Wye, Lug, and the Seuerne streames,
His sonne is like the sunnes syres Ganimede,
And for your loue, hath sent a Lord to plead:
His absence, I did purpose to excuse:
Enter Lester, Richmond.
But Lester is the man for him that sues.

F.
My cousin Bruse hath bene your Broker, Lester,
At least hath broke the matter to my girle.

Lest.
O for a barber at the time of neede,
Or one of these that dresses periwigs,
To decke my gray head with a youthfull haire:
But I must too't. Matilda, thus it is;
Say, can ye loue mee? I am Wigmors sonne.

Ma.
My cousin said, he look't like Ganimede:
But you, but you.

Ley.
But I, but I, you say,
Am rather like old Chremes in a play.
But thats a nice obiection: I am hee,
But by atturneyshippe made deputie.

Mat.
He's neuer like to speede well, all his life,
That by atturney sues to winne a wife:
But graunt you are, whome you seeme nothing like,
Young Wigmore, the heire to this noble Lord:
He for his sonne hath yet sent vs nere a word.

Old. Br.
If you grant loue, when his sonne doth wooe,
Then in your ioynture heele send, say, and doe.

Y. Br.
And for a dooer, cosin take my word,
Looke for a good egge, he was a good bird:
Cocke a the game ifaith, neuer feare.

Ma.
I, but I feare the match will fall out ill,
Because he saies his sonne is named Will.

Fitz,
And why good daughter? Hath some Palmister,
Some Augur, or some dreaming Calculator
(For such I know you often hearken to)
Bene prating gainst the name? Go too, go too,
Doe not beleeue them. Lester, fall to wooe.

Ma.
I must beleeue my father, and tis you,
That if I ought misdid, reproou'd me still,
And chiding said, you'r wedded to your will.

Fitz.
God for thy mercy, haue yee catcht me there?
Wigmore is William, woman. Lester, speake,
Thou art the simplest wooer in the world.

Lest.
You haue put me out, & she hath tooke me down:
You with your talke, she with her ready tongue.
You told me I should find her milde and still,
And scarce a worde come from her in an hower,
Then did I thinke, I should haue all the talke,
Unhindred by your willingnesse to helpe,
Unanswerd till I had no more to say: And then

Y. B.
What then? she with a courtly curtsie saying nay.

Ma.
Your friends atturney might haue gone his way,
With as great credit, as did that Orator,
Which handling an Oration, some three howers,
Ill for the matter, worse than bad for phrase:
Hauing said Dixi; lookt, and found not one,
To praise or dispraise his Oration:
For, wearied with his talke, they all were gone.

F.
Now by my troth, if any troth I haue,
I am as merry at Matildaes mirth,
As I was glad to see her first daies birth.
For till this hower, so helpe me holidam,
Since the too timely death of Huntington,
Not a blithe word had passage through her lips.

Ley.
See what a pleasing humour wooers bring.

Cos. B.
O but yee leaue too soone.

Ley.
Yet she auerers
I stand too long, shall I chuse yours or hers?

Mat.
Either forbeare, I pray yee, for a while.
Welcome Lord Richmond.

Rich.
What, doth Matilda smile?
That still like sadnesse solitary sat:
Then off with widowes weedes, and teach your feete,
(That haue forgot for want of exercise,
And by the meanes your sorrowe had no meane)
To tread a measure: for a gallant crue,
Of courtly maskers landed at the staires,
Before whome vnintreated, I am come,
And haue preuented, I beleeue, their page,
Who with his torch is entred.

Fitz.
Richmond, thankes:
If you haue ought to say about the maskers,
Beseech the Gentlemen to enter in:
For they are welcome guests to old Fitzwater.
Exit Messenger.
Sonne, sonne, I pray you fetch the Ladies in:
We haue beene talking here about a match,
And left our noble friends in discontent.

Rich.
Nay by my faith, we had much merriment;
Yet thought it long, you neither came, nor sent.

Matilda faints, and sits downe.
Fitz.
How now Matilda? pray thee cheere thee girle.

Mat.
I thought it was a lightning before death:
Too sodaine to be certaine: good pleasure stay.
Enter Ladies.
Wilt thou not wanton? churle then goe thy way.

After maske.
Ri.
What? chang'd so soon? so soon falne to your dūps?
Cheerly: the maske comes in. O God, this veile & looke
Fit not this sport.

Mat.
Ile leaue it.

Lest.
Nay: for your loue, Williams sake, faire maiden stay.
Dance: Maskers take each a Ladie, Iohn Matilda: but refusing, father;
This is no courtship daughter, be not nice,
You both abuse him and disparage vs:
His fellowes had the Ladies they did chuse,
And wel you knowe, heres no more maids than Maud:
Your selfe are all our store: I pray you rise,
Or by my faith, I say you doe vs wrong.

Mat.
I wil do what you wil: lead, lead your daunce.

Ki.
You know me by my speach.

Mat.
I my Liege, I: O! that temptatious tongue
Had no where to be plac't but in your head.

Ki.
Well, say I haue her tongue, had I not neede,
When you haue both her eyes: nay all her shape:
Able to tempt euen Ioue himselfe to rape.

Ma.
Good my Lord leaue; or I wil leaue the place.

Daunce againe: & in the first course Matilda flings from him: Iohn followes.
Fitz.
Daunce out your Galliard: Gods deare holibread,
Y'are too forgetfull: daunce, or by my troth,
You'l moue my patience more than I will speake.
She vnwilling, Iohn roughly puls her.
Nay soft vnmannerd sir, you are too rough:
Her ioynts are weake, your armes are strong & tough:
If yee come here for sport, you welcome be,
If not, better your roome than such bad company.
Iohn threatens him by signes.
Dost threaten mee? then will I see thy face.

Kin.
And so thou shalt, looke on me rebell Lord;
Thou that wert late a factious ring-leader,
And in the open field gau'st me fierce fight,
Art thou againe gathering another head,
That with such rudenesse thou dost entertaine
The gentle comming of thy Soueraigne?

Fitz.
My dread Lord, heare me, and forgiue this fault;
What I haue earst done, long since you forgaue:
If I did lead the Barons in the field,
The Barons chose me, when they could not chuse
But make some leader, you were so misled.
When better thoughts entred your royall breast,
We then obeyd you, as our Soueraigne head.

King.
You did euen what you list, and so doe still.
I am the king, but you must haue your will:
The plaine troth is, we are not come in sport,
Though for our comming, this was our best cloake:
For if we neuer come, till you doe send,
We must not be your guests while bankets last.
Contentious brauls you howerly send to vs:
But we may send and send, and you returne,
This Lord is sicke, that pained with the gout,
He rid from home. You thinke I finde not out
Your close confederacies: yes I doe, no doubt.

Lest.
If there be here a close confederate,
Gods vengeance light vpon him with my hate.

K.
No, you are open Lester, that I knowe.

Ch.
I by the Lord, my Lord, your open foe.

Lest.
By thy Lords Lord, and mine, proud Rafe of Chester,
Thou dar'st not say so, wert thou from the king.

Mow.
Yes, but he dares and shall.

Rich.
Mowbray, if you stand by,
He dares perchance, els will the dastard fly.

Ch.
My owne sword shall maintaine my tongues true speach:
For it is not frequented to such lies,
As wrangling Lester, and proud Richmond vse:
It cannot set out like a thundring drumme,
Or roaring Canon, stuft with naught but brags,
The multitudes of seas died red with blood,
And famous cities into cinders turn'd,
By their two armed armes.

King.
I Chester,
And then they shewe vs rags, torne off belike,
From poore decayed Ladies petticotes:
For neither bill, nor feathered shot, nor pike
Made halfe or any of those rents they haue:
These patcht together, fastned vnto staues,
They will not stick to sweare, haue beene aduanc't
Against the Sophie Souldan, and the Turke.

Le.
Do not maintaine proud Chester, my liues Liege.
Your words I must put vp: his if I beare
Yes you shall beare them, Beare, and yet not bite:
We haue you muzzeld now: remember once
You brau'd vs with your Bombard boasting words:
Come briefely, Lester, Richmōd, both Fitzwaters, Bruse,
Deliuer vp your swords immediatly:
And either yield your bodies to our hands,
Or giue such pledges as we shall accept,
Unto our Steward Winchester, with speede.

Lest.
I will not leaue my armes, nor break my word
Except I be prouok't: your liege-man I am sworne:
That oath is pledge enough. If you mislike

Kin.
Thou hearest me say, I doe.

Lest.

And I reply, that pledge refus'd, I haue no more
for you.

Rich.
And Richmond saies as noble Lester saith;
Alreadie haue we plighted fame and faith:
Which being scornde, returns to vs againe,
And by the kings owne mouth, we are discharg'd.

Kin.
Fitzwater, what say you?

Fitz.
What pledge desires my Liege?

King.
I aske your stubborne daughter.

Yong Br.
That were a gage to be ingag'd.

Fitz.
Peace thou head-strong boy.
Pardon me soueraigne: all my power is yours:
My goods you may commaund, my life you may:
My children too I know with both their liues,
Will readily aduenture deaths worst wrongs,
To doe such seruice as true subiects should:
But honorable fame, true chastitie

Kin.
Make no exceptions, yield her vp to mee,
Or looke for euer for my enmitie.

Fitz.
Nay then Fitzwater tels your Maiestie,
You doe him wrong; and well will let you wit,
He will defende his honour to the death.

King.
And Bruse, you are no otherwise dispos'd,
You will not giue your sons to me for pledge.

Br.
I haue but one, being my lesser boy,
Who is at Gilford: for my other sonne,

Ki.
He braues me with the rest.
Well it is night, and theres no sunne to sweare by,
But by Gods sonne: and by him I here protest,
A miserable storme this night to raise,
That shall not cease, while England giueth rest,
To such vile traitors: Bruse Ile begin with you:
I will ifaith, as true as God is true.

Exeunt king, cum suis.
Lest.
Then shal a storme be rais'd against a storme,
And tempest be with tempest beaten backe.

Fitz.
But this firme Iland like the sea will tosse,
And many goodly buildings goe to wracke,
Many a widowe weepe her dying sonne,
And many a mother to her helplesse babes
Cry out vncomfortably; children peace,
Your crying vnto me is all in vaine,
Dead is my husband, your poore father slaine.

Yong Br.
We can not helpe it vnkle.

Ri.
No, you see intreats & humble sutes haue now no power:
But lust and wrath the kingdome doth deuour.

Br.
Me he did menace first, and much I feare
He will to Gilford, and besiege my wife.

Fitz.
O, hye to saue her. Richmond ride with him,

Rich.
Let vs away Bruse, least we come to late,
And with vs take some score of men well armde.
Exeunt Richmond,

Fitz.
Doe: Lester, and my selfe will keepe the citie,
Til we are furnisht with an able armie.
Your Nephew, Bruse, shal take an hundred armed men,
And poast to Hartford Castle with your sister:
Sith wrong will wake vs, we will keepe such watch,
As for his life, he shall not hurt vs bring.

Exeunt omnes.
Enter Queene, Bruses Ladie, Hubert, Salsbury.
Qu.
Be comforted good Madame, doe not feare,
But giue your sonne as pledge vnto the king:
Your selfe at Court may keepe him company.

Wif.
I am betraid, alas I am betraid,
And little thought your Highnesse had bene bent,
So much against me, for my many loues,
As to prepare an entrance for my foe.

Qu.
As I shall liue in heauen, I did not knowe
Of Huberts comming: but lament not this:
Your sonne you say is gone; what feare you then?

Wi.
O madame, murder, mischiefe, wrongs of men
I feare, I feare: what ist I doe not feare?
Sith hope is so farre of, despaire so neare.

Ox.
Answere mee good Hubert, I pray the Hubert doe.
What thinke you of this matter, may I on your word
Perswade the woman that all things are well?

Hu.
You may perswade her, if you can my Lord:
For I protest I knowe no other thing,
But that the king would haue him for a pledge of the
Lord Bruses faith.

Sals.

And reason too. Now by my Honour, Hubert, I
protest it is good reason.

Bruse, I tell you plaine,
Is no sound cloake, to keepe Iohn from the raine.
I will goe to her.

Hu.
Doe good simple Earle.
If not by threats, nor my intreats she yield,
Thy braine is barren of inuention,

Dried vp with care: & neuer will shee yield her sonne to
thee, that hauing power, wantst wit.

Br. Wife.
I ouerheare thee Hubert.

Ox.
So do I dame Bruse:
But stir no coles: the man is well belou'd,
And merits more than so.

Bru. W.
But I will answere.
Hubert, thou fatall keeper of poore babes,
That are appointed hostages for Iohn,
Had I a sonne here, as I haue not one
(For yesterday I sent him into Wales)
Thinkst thou I would be so degenerate,
So farre from kinde, to giue him vnto thee?
I would not I protest: thou knowest my minde.

Ox.
Ladie, you feare more than you neede to doe,
Indeede you doe, in very deede you doe:
Hubert is wrongd about the thing you meane,
About young Arthus: O, I thought twas so:
Indeede the honest, good, kinde gentleman
Did all he might for safegard of the childe.

Qu.
Beleeue me Madame Bruse, the man is wrongd.

B. w.
But he wrongs me, to keepe my Castle thus,
Disarming my true seruants, arming his.
Now more of outrage comes, what shall I doe?

Enter the king, Mowbray, Winchester, Chester.
King.
O this is well. Hubert, wheres Bruses sonne?

Wi.
Where thou shalt neuer see him, Iohn.

K.
Ladie, we shall haue talke with you anone.
Where is he Hubert?

Hu.
Hid, or fled my Lord: we can by no means get her to confesse.

Sa.
Welcome to Gilford, Oxfords liefest Lord.

K.
You scarce giue welcome, ere I bid you goe:
For you my Lord, the Queene and Winchester,
Shall march to Harford. Sweete Isabell,
And if thou loue me, play the Amazon.
Matilda that hath long bewitcht mine eye,
Is as I heare by spials, now in Harford Castle;
Besiege her there: for now her hauty father
Ruffians it vp and downe, and all the brood
Of viperous traitors whet their poysoned teeth,
That they may feed on vs that foster them.
Goe forward, and goe with you victorie:
Which to assure, my powers shall followe you.

Sals.
Did I not tell you this? then trust me next:
Nay he is chang'd, and cares no more for her,
Than I doe Madame.

King.
Be gone I say, be gone:
Your speede, rich victory attendeth on:
But your delay
May giue your foes the happie glorious day.

Qu.
One boone my Liege, and part.

Kin.
Be briefe.

Qu.
Shew that poore Ladie pittie, I beseech.

Exeunt.
Kin.
I will indeede. Come Ladie, let vs in.
You haue a sonne, goe in and bring him mee,
And for the Queenes sake I will fauour yee.

B. W.
I haue no son: come, come: come in and search,
And if you finde him, wretched may I bee.

Exit.
Ki.
Chester and Hubert, see you keepe good watch.
Not farre of doe I heare a warlike sound:
Bruse on my life: looke too't while I goe in
To seeke this boy; for needs we must haue him.
Come with vs Mowbray.

Exeunt.
Enter Bruse, Richmond, Souldiers.
Rich.
The Castle gates are shut. what ho? what ho?
You that are seruants to the Lady Bruse,
Arise, make entrance for your Lord and friends.

Enter, or aboue, Hugh, Winchester.
Hu.
We will make issue ere yee enter here.
Who haue we there, Richmond and Bruse? Ist you?
What, vp so soone, are yee so earely here?
In you yfaith the Prouerb's verified:
Y'are earely vp, and yet are nere the neare.

Rich.
The worse our fortune. Bruse let vs goe hence,
We haue no power to fight, nor make defence.

Ch.
What Richmond, will you proue a Runaway?

Rich.
From thee good Winchester: Now ye Lord defend.

Bruse.
we will stay and fight.

Br.

Tis to no end: we haue but twentie men, & they
be tyr'd.

But ere we doe retire, tell me Lord Hubert,
Where are my wife and sonne?

Hu.
Your wife is here, your sonne we cannot finde.

Br.
Let son & wife, high heauens, your comfort finde.

Exeunt.
Enter King, Mowbray, Ladie Bruse.
Chest.
Bruse hath beene here, my Lord.

Ki.

I, let him goe: we haue good pledges: though wee
see but one,

The other we are sure will come anone.

Mow.
I doe aduise you, for your owne discharge,
Deliuer vp your sonne vnto the king.

King.
Nay let her chuse. Come hither Mowbray.

The king and Mowbray whisper.
Hu.
The king is angry; Ladie Bruse aduise you.

L. Br.

What? be aduis'd by thee, to haue my louing,
kinde and prettie boy, giuen to an vnkinde killer of
sweete boyes?

Ch.
Madame go too, take counsell of your friends,
I warrant you the king will vse him well.

L. B.
I, as he vs'd his Nephewe, Arthur Chester:
God blesse my childe from being vsed so.

Mow.
Sir Hubert, what are all the people voided,
The horses and the cattle turned forth?

Hu.
Mowbray, they be.

Mow.
Then will I doe the kings commaundement.

L. B.
What will he doe! good lord, what will he doe!
Mowbray, I pray you what ist you will doe.

Mo.
Why? fire the Castle.

L. B.
The Castle Mowbray? tarry, tarry man,
Hold me not Chester, gentle Mowbray stay:
Good Hubert let me goe.

Mow.

You must not goe: the king is moou'd and will
not heare you speake.

L. Br.

But he shall heare mee. Pittie mee king Iohn,
call Mowbray backe: heare mee for pitties sake, regard
the Ladie Bruses wofull cry.

K.
What dost thou aske?

La.
First call backe Mowbray.

K.
Stay Mowbray: now be briefe,

L.
I haue some linnen garments, iewels, tyres,
Packt in a hamper here within the lodge:
O let me saue it from consuming fire.

K.
And is this all?

La.
Its all the little all, I here haue left.

King.
Away, set fire; linnen and trash.

L.
O once more heare mee, theres a pretious Iem,
You haue not any richer in all the Realme:
If fire doe blemish it, Arte neuer more,
To his true colour, can the same restore.

Ki.
Fetch it: two of yee helpe her wt her hamper hither.

La.

Nay, nay: one will suffice: the Iewell if I saue, is
all I aske.

Exit with Chester.
Kin.
We shall her Iewell haue.

Hu.
She is very fearefull I should keepe her sonne.

Within, La.
Ye doe, yee doe.

Ki.
Alas good Ladie: harke, Chester & she are chiding.

Enter Chester and she, leading the boy.
La.
Let goe his hand. Is this a pawe, thinke you,
To holde a tender hand in? fie for shame:
A noble man so churlish? Looke I pray,
His armes are gristles.

King.
How now Lady Bruse,
Doth Chester hurt the Iewell of your ioy?
Now by my troth it is a prettie boy.

La.

I: knewe your Maiestie as much as I, you would.
say more.

Ki.
Well, he and you of vs no wrong shall haue:
But stay in Windsor Castle with sir Walter Blunt,
And honourably be vsed: prouided still,
Your husband and your sonne obey our will.

L.
For this great mercie, if they disobey,
My selfe will chide them. Fortune followe Iohn,
And on his foes fall swift destruction.

Exeunt.
K.
Come let vs now after the Queene & Oxford.

Exeunt omnes.
Enter the Queene, Oxford, Souldiers.
Qu.
Now are yee, worthy and resolued men,
Come to the cage where the vncleane birds bide,
That tyre on all the faire flight in the Realme.
Summon this Castle, or (to keepe my words)
This cage of night-hid owles, light-flying birds.

Offer to summon. Enter yong Bruse, Matilda, Souldiers.
Ox.
Stay drum: thou need'st not summon willing men:
Or rather wilfull: for such me thinke they be.

Qu.
Se yee yon baggage, muffled in black weeeds?
Those clouds folde in the Comet, that portends
Sad desolation to this royall Realme:
For euer seeke to maske her light, good friends.
Let vs disrobe her of each little beame,
And then your Phœbus will one Phoebe haue,
That while they liue shall lend your land true light,
Giue ioy vnto your day, rest to your night.
Assaile them: stay not.

Ox.
Stay, and assaie them first.
I say to you, faire Queene, this fact is foule.
Let not prouoking words whet dull edg'd swords:
But try if we can blunt sharpe blades with words.
Fitzwaters Nephew, Bruse, I see thee there,
And tell thee, it is shame for such a boy,
To lead a many able men to fight.
And modest looking maid, I see you too:
And vnfit sight, to viewe virginitie
Guarded with other souldiers, than good praiers:
But you will say the king occasions it.
Say what you will, no king but would take cause

Of iust offence: yield you young Bruse: your mother is
in holde.

Yield you young maid: your father is in holde.

Ma.
Will the Queene keepe me from the lustfull king?
Then will I yield.

Qu.
A plague vpon this counterfaiting queane.

Mat.
Gods blessed mercy, will you still be mad,
And wrong a noble virgine with vile speach?

Ox.
Let me alone: Matilda, maiden faire,
Thou virgine spouse, true Huntingtons iust heire,
Wilt thou come hither? and I doe protest,
The Queene and I, to mitigate this warre,
Will doe what thou wouldest haue.

Ma.
I come.

Br.
You shall not goe: sound drums to warre.

Ox.

Alack, alack for woe: well God for vs, sith it
will needes be so.

Alarum, fight, stay.
Ox.
What stay you for?

Br.
Matildaes cryes doe stay vs.

Mat.
Oxford, I come in hope of thy defence.

Br.
First will I die, ere you shall yield your selfe,
To any coward Lord that serues the King.

Ox.
Coward proud boy? thou findest me no such beast,
And thou shalt rue in earnest this rude iest.

Fight againe, Matilda taken, led by the haire by two Souldiers.
Ox.
Rude hands, how hale you vertuous honour forth?
You doe not well: away: now by my faith,
Yee doe not well I say.
Take her, faire Queene, vse her as she deserues:
Shees faire, shees noble, chast, and debonaire.
I must, according to due course of warre,
See that our souldiers scatter not too fare,
Least what care wonne, our negligence mray loose.

Exit.
Qu.
Is this the Helen, this the Paragon,
That makes the English Ilinnus flame so fast?

Mat.
I am not she, you see I am not shee:
I am not rauisht yet, as Helen was,
I know not what will come of Iohns desire,
That rages like the sea, that burnes like fire.

Qu.

Plaine Iohn, proud Ione? Ile teare your painted
face: thus, thus Ile vse you.

Enter Oxford.
Ma.
Doe, doe, what you will.

Ox.
How goes this geere? ha? foule fall so foule a deed,
Poore chast childe of Fitzwater dost thou bleede.
By Gods blest mother this is more than neede:
And more I tell you true than I would beare,
Were not the danger of the campe so neere.

Enter a messenger.
Mess.
My Lord, the foes haue gathered head:
Lord Bruse the father, ioyneth with the sonne.

Ox.
Why heres the matter, we must spend our time,
To keepe your nailes from scratching innocence,
Which should haue beene bestowed for our defence.
What shall we now doe! helpe me holy God,
The foe is come, and we are out of ranke.

Skirmish: Queene taken, Matilda rescued. Enter olde Bruse wounded, led by his sonne and Lester.
Br.
Is the field ours?

Young B.
I, thanks to noble Lester.

Br.
Giue God thanks, sonne, be carefull to thy mother:
Commend me to Fitzwater, loue thy brother,
If either armes, or praiers may him recouer.

Fals down.
Lest.
How cheeres old Bruse?

Br.
His soule to ioy is fled:
His griefe is in my bosome buried.

Lest.
His life was dearely bought. For my eyes sawe
A shambles of dead men about his feete,
Sent by his sword vnto eternall shade:
With honour bury him: cease teares good Bruse.

Br.
Teares helpe not I confesse: yet must I weepe.
Souldiers, your helpe to beare him to my tent.

Exeunt, cum Bruse.
Ma.
Be comforted great Queene: forget my wrongs.
It was my fortune, and no fault of yours.

Qu.
Is she thus milde? or doth she mock my chance?

Lest.
Queene Elianor, are you a prisoner?
See what it is to be a souldier.
But what foule hand hath harm'd Matildaes faire?
Speake honourable maid: who tore thy haire?
Did Oxford or the Queene this violence?

Ma.
Ungentle groomes first tooke and tore me thus:
From whom old Oxford, chastising their wrong,
Most kindly brought mee to this gentle Queene:
Who laid her soft hand on my bleeding cheekes,
Gaue kisses to my lips, wept for my woe:
And was deuising how to send me backe,
Euen when your last alarum frighted vs:
And by her kindnesse, fell into your hands.

Lest.
Which kindnesse we returne. Madame, be free.
Souldiers, conduct the Queene whether she please.

Qu.
Farewell Matilda: if I liue, beleeue,
I will remember this. O how I grieue,
That I should wrong so innocent a maid.
Come Ladie, old Fitzwater is not farre:
Hele weepe to see these scarres, full well I knowe.

Ma
Would I were from this wofull world of warre:
Sure I will scape, and to some Nunry goe.

Exeunt.
Enter king, Oxford, Hubert.
K.
Had you her then? had you her in your power?

Ox.
I marry had we; we had taken her.

K.
O had she beene in mine,
Not all earths power, from my power, should haue freed her.

Ox.
You are a king: and high are Princes thoughts:
It may be with your sight you could haue chac't
An host of armed men: it may be so:
But we your subiects did the best we could:
Yet Bruse the father, backing Bruse the sonne,
Scattred our troopes: brought rescue to Matilda,
And tooke your peerelesse Queene, their prisoner.

K.
On all the race of Bruses, for this wrong,
I will haue vengeance. Hubert, call in Brand.
Exit Hu.
My Lord of Oxford, giue vs leaue a while to be alone.

Ox.
I will my liege: but be you comforted,
The Queene will be recouer'd, doe not feare,
As well as ere she was;

K.
Oxford, forbeare I pray.

Ox.
Yet for the wrong she did vnto Matilda, I feare, I feare.

Exit.
K.
The father and the sonne did rescue her:
The mother and the sonne shall rue the deede:
So it shall be: I am resolu'd thereon.
Matilda, my soules foode, those haue bereft:
And these of bodies foode I will bereaue.

Enter Hubert, Brand.
K.
Will Brand?

Brand.
Your Maiestie.

Make legs.
K.
Lesse of your curtsie. Hubert, stand aside.
Poast spedily to Windsor: take this ring:
Bid Blunt deliuer Bruses wife and childe,
Into your hands: and aske him for the key
Of the darke tower, ore the dungeon vault:
In that, see you shut vp the dam and brat.
Pretend to Blunt that you haue left them meat,
Will serue some sennight: and vnto him say,
It is my will you bring the key away.
And here you sir, I charge you on your life,
You doe not leaue a bit of bread with them.

Brand.
I warrant you, let me alone.

Ki.
Come backe againe with all the speede you may.

Hugh.
Some cruell taske is pointed for that slaue,
Which he will execute as cruelly.

Kin.
No ruth, no pittie shall haue harbour here,
Till faire Matilda be within these armes.

Enter Oxford with the Queene.
Oxf.
Comfort my Lord, comfort my gratious Lord.
Your loue is come againe.

Ki.
Ah Oxford, where?

Ox.
Here my dread Soueraigne.

Kin.
Thou ly'st, she is not there.

Ox.
Under correction you wrong my age.
Say I beseech you, is not this the Queene?

Kin.
I cry you mercie Oxford, tis indeede.
Where is Matilda?

Qu.

Where vertue, chastitie, and innocence remain,
there is Matilda.

King.

How comes she, pray, to be so chaste, so faire, so
vertuous in your eye?

Qu.
She freed me from my foes, and neuer vrg'd
My great abuse, when she was prisoner.

Kin.
What did you to her?

Qu.
Raild vpon her first,
Then tare her haire, and rent her tender cheekes.

K.
O heauen! was not the day darke at that foule deed?
Could the sunne see, without a red eclipse,
The purple teares fall from those tyrant wounds!
Out AEthiope, Gypsie, thick lipt Blackamoore:
Wolfe, Tygresse, worse than either of them both.

Ox.
Are you aduis'd my lord?

K.
Out doting Earle.
Couldst thou endure to see such violence?

Ox.
I tell you plaine my Lord, I brookt it not,
But staid the tempest.

K.
Rend my loues cheekes? that matchlesse Effigie,
Of wonder-working, natures chiefest worke.
Teare her rich haire? to which, gold wyres,
Sunnes rayes, and best of best compares
(In their most pride) haue no comparison.
Abuse her name? Matildaes sacred name?
O barbarous outrage, rudenesse mercilesse.

Qu.
I told you Oxford, you mistooke the king.

Ox.
I did indeede: my liege Lord giue me leaue,
To leaue the Campe.

K.
Away old foole: and take with thee that trull:
For if she stay,

Ox.
Come Ladie, come away.
Tempt not his rage: ruine wrath alwaies brings:
Lust being lord, there is no trust in kings.

Exit.
Enter Mowbray.
Mou.
To armes king Iohn: Fitzwaters field is pitcht,
About some mile hence, on a champain plaine.
Chester hath drawne our souldiers in array:
The wings already haue begun the fight.

K.
Thither we will with wings of vengeance fly,
And winne Matilda, or loose victory.

Exeunt.
Enter Ladie Bruse, and Brand.
La.
Why did my keeper put vs in thy hands?
Wherein haue we offended Blunt or thee?

Brand.
You neede not make these words:
You must remooue your lodging: this is all.
Be not afeard: come come, here is the doore.

L.
O God how darke it is!

Brand
Goe in goe in: its higher vp the staires.

La.
My trembling heart forbids mee to goe in.
O if thou haue compassion, tell me true,
What my poore boy and I must trust vnto?

Brand.
I tell thee true, compassion is my foe:
Yet haue I had of thee compassion.
Take in thy childe: as I haue faith or troth,
Thou and thy boy shall be but prisoners:
And I must daily bring you meat and drinke.

La.
Well, thou hast sworn: and God so giue thee light,
As in this darke place thou remembrest vs.
Poore heart, thou laugh'st, and hast not wit to thinke,
Upon the many feares that me afflict.
I will not in: helpe vs, assist vs Blunt,
We shall be murdred in a dungeon.

Brand.
Cry without cause? Ile haue yee in yfaith.

La.
O let my boy and I but dine with Blunt,
And then I will with patience goe in.

Br.
Will ye, or nill yee, zounds, ye must goe in,
And neuer dine.

La.
What saiest thou? neuer dine?

Bra.
No not with Blunt, I meane. Goe in I say:
Or by this hand, yee get no meat to day.

La.
My childe is hungry. When shall he haue meat?

Bra.
Why, and ye would goe in, immediately.

La.
I will goe in: but very much I doubt,
Nor I, nor my poore boy shall ere come out.

Exit.
Hee seemes to locke a doore.
Br.
Nere while yee liue, yfaith: now are they sure.
Cry till their hearts ake, no man can them heare.
A miserable death is famishment:
But what care I? the king commaunded me.

Alarum within: excursions. Enter Fitzwater, Bruse.
Fitz.
Now doth faire fortune offer hope of speede:
But howsoere we speede: good cosin Bruse,
March with three hundred bowes & pikes to Windsor,
Spreading a rumour that the day is ours:
As ours it shall be, with the helpe of heauen.
Blunt loues our part farre better than the kings:
And will, I gage my life, vpon the newes,
Surrender vp the Castle to our vse.
By this means shall you helpe vs to a holde,
How ere it chance, set free your Lady mother
That liues in prison there, with your young brother.

Br.
Away good vnkle, to the battel goe:
But that a certaine good insues I knowe,
For all the world, I would not leaue you so.

Fitz.
Away, away.
God send thee Windsor: vs this happie day.

Alarum still. Enter Hughbert.
Hu.
You cannot hide your selfe Matilda: no disguise
Will serue the turne: now must you to the king:
And all these warres will with your presence cease.
Yield you to him, hee soone will yield to peace.

Ma.
They say thou took'st some pittie of a childe,
The king appointing thee to seare his eyes.
Men doe report thee to be iust of word,
And a deare louer of my Lord the king.
If thou didst that, if thou be one of these:
Pittie Matilda, prostrate at thy feete.

Hugh.
I sau'd young Arthurs eyes, and pittie thee:
My word is iust, which I haue giuen the king.
The King I loue: and thee I knowe he loues.
Compare these: then how can I pleasure thee?

Ma.
By letting me escape to Dunmow Abbey,
Where I will end my life a votary.

Hu.
And the king die with doting on thy loue.

Mat.
No, no: this fire of lust would be soone laide,
If once he knewe me sworne a holy maid.

Hu.
Thy teares and loue of vertue haue the power
To make me, at an instant, true and false:
True to distressed beautie and rare chastitie:
False to king Iohn, that holds the sight of thee
Dearer than England, or earths Emperie.
Goe happie soule, that in so ill an age,
Hast such faire beautie for thy heritage:
Yet goe not so alone. Dost heare tall souldier?
Call a Souldier.
I know thee honest: guide this gentle maid,
To Dunmow Abbey: she is one I knowe.
I will excuse thee and content thee well.
My signet take, that yee may passe vnsearcht.

Mat.
Kinde Hubert, many prayers, for this good deede,
Shall on my beads be daily numbered.

Enter Lester, Richmond, Fitzwater.
Lest.
O trebble heat of honour, toyle and rage!
How cheeres earle Richmond?
Fitzwater, speake old man.
We are now neere together; answere mee.

Fitz.
Lester, the more our woe,
The likelier to be taken by the foe.

Rich.
O let not such a thought abuse thy age:
Weele neuer yield vs to the tyrants rage.

Fitz.
But if my girle be yielded,

Lest.
If she be.

Fitz.
I, I: theres no man but shall haue his time to dy.

Lest.
Now is our hower: which they shall dearly buy.

Enter king, Hugh, Chester, Mowbray.
Rich.
Lester, weele stand like three Battalions:
What saies our noble Generall theretoo?

Fitz.

Why, I say doe: while I can, Ile keepe my place
with you.

King.
How now my bug-beare, will ye now submit?

Lest.
To death, but not to thee.

Kin.
Richmond, nor you?

Rich.
Earle Richmond will not yield.

K.
Methinkes Fitzwater, you should haue more wit.

Fitz.
If it be wit to liue, I haue no will:
And so in this, my will orerules my wit.

Ki.
Alarum then, with weapons will
We scourge your desperate will, and teach yee to haue wit.

Fight: driue back the king.
Withdrawe.
K.
Of high heroicke spirits be they all:
We will withdrawe a litle and conferre:
For they are circled round, and cannot scape.

Rich.
O that we three, who in the suns arise,
Were (like the three Triumuirates of Rome)
Guids of an hoast, able to vanquish Rome,
Are now alone, inclos'd with enemies!

Fitz,
The glorie of the world hath no more stay:
But as it comes, it fleetes, and fades away.

Lest.
Courage, and let vs die; they come againe:
Its Lord Hugh Burgh alone, Hughberr, what newes?

Hu.
This daies fierce slaughter, Iohn, our King, lamēts:
And to you three, great leaders of an hoast,
That now haue not a man at all to leade:
You worthie captaines without companies

Lest.
Fitzwater, Richmond; by the blessed Sunne,
Lord Hubert mocks vs.

Hu.
By the Moone I doe not, and put the blessed too't.
It is as good an oath as you haue sworne.
My heart grieues, that so great hearts, as yours be,
Should put your fortunes on a sort of slaues,
That bring base feare within them to rhe field:
But to the matter. Sith your state is such,
That without mercie you are sure of death
(Which I am sure, and wel his Highnesse knowes,
You doe not feare at all) yet he giues grant,
On iust conditions you shall saue your liues.

Fitz.
On no condition will I saue my life,
Except Matilda be returnd againe,
Unblemisht, vnabus'd; and then I yield.

Hugh.
She now is where she neuer will returne.

Fitz.
Neuer? O God! is my Matilda dead?

Hugh.
Deade to the world: dead to this woe she is.
She liues at Dunmow, and is vowd a Nunne.

Fitz.
Doe not delude me Hubert, gentle sonne.

Hugh.
By all the faith and honour of my kin:
By my vnstain'd alleagiance to the king:
By my owne word, that hath reproouelesse bin,
She is at Dunmow.

Fitz.
O, how came she there?

Hu.
When all these fields were walks for rage & fear
(This, howling like a head of hungry wolues:
That, scudding as a heard of frighted deere)
When dust arising like a cole blacke fogge,
From friend diuided friend, ioynd foe to foe:
Yet neither those, nor these could either know,
Til here and there through large wide mouthed woūds
Proud life, euen in the glorie of his heat,
Losing possession, belcht forth streames of blood:
Whose spouts in falling, made ten thousand drops,
And with that purple shower the dust alaid:
At such a time met I the trembling maid,
Seeming a doue, from all her fellowes parted.
Seene, knowne, and taken: vnseene & vnknowne,
To any other that did knowe vs both,
At her entreats I sent her safely guided,
To Dunmow Abbey: and the guide returnd,
Assures me she was gladfully receiu'd,
Pittied: and in his sight did take her oath.

Fitz
Hubert, for this thy honourable deede,
I and my house will reuerence thy name.

Hu.
Yet, I beseech you, hide it from the King:
At least that I conuaid her to the place.

Enter King, Mowbray, Chester.
Fitz.
Hubert, I will.

Ki.
What, stand they still on tearmes?

Lest.
On honourable tearmes, on tearms of right.
Our liues without our libertie we scorne.

King.
You shall haue life and libertie, I sweare.

Lest.
Then Lester bowes his knee to his liege Lord,
And humbly begs his Highnesse to beware
Of wronging innocence, as he hath done.

Rich.
The like Richmond desires; & yields his sword.

Kin.
I doe imbrace ye both, and hold my selfe
Richer by a whole Realm, in hauing you.

Fitz.
Much is my wrong: yet I submit with these,
Begging free leaue, to liue a priuate life.

King.
Old brands of malice in thy bosome rest.
Thou shalt haue leaue to leaue mee, neuer doubt.
Fitzwater, see thou shippe thee straight for France,
And neuer set thy foote on English shore,
Till I repeale thee. Goe, goe hence in peace.

Lest.
Why doth your Highnesse wrong Fitzwater thus?

King.
I right his wrong; he's wearie of the land.

Rich.
Not of the land, but of a publike life.

Kin.
Content ye Lords: in such quick times as these,
We must not keepe a drone among our bees.

Fitz.
I am as glad to goe, as you to send:
Yet I beseech this fauour of your Grace,
That I may see Matilda ere I part.

Ki.
Matilda? See Matilda, if thou canst
Before Sunne set; stay not another day.
The Abbey wals, that shrowd my happy child,
Appeare within her haplesse fathers sight.
Farewell my Soueraigne. Lester, Richmond, Lords:
Farewell to all: griefe giues no way to words.

King.
Fitzwater stay: Lords, giue vs leaue a while.
Hubert, goe you before vnto the Abbesse,
And signifie our comming; let her bring
(Exit Hubert.)
Matilda to her father. Come old man;
Be not too froward, and we shall be friends.
About this girle our mortall iarres began:
And if thou wilt, here all our quarrell ends.

Fitz.
Reserue my honour, and my daughters fame,
And no poore subiect that your Grace commands,
Shall willinger submit, obey, and serue.

K.
Do then but this; Perswade thy beautious child,
To leaue the Nunry and returne to Court:
And I protest from henceforth to forsweare
All such conceipts of lust as I haue borne.

Fitz.
I will, my Lord, doe all that I may doe:
But giue me leaue, in this, to doubt of you.

K.
This small thing graunt, and aske me any thing:
Or else die in exile, loath'd of the King.

Fitz.
You shall perceiue I will doe what I may.

Enter, on the wall, Abbesse, Matilda.
Hu.
Matilda is afraid to leaue the house:
But loe, on yonder battlement she stands:
But in no case will come within your hands.

K.
What? will my Lady Abbesse warres with vs:
Speake Ladie: wherefore shut you vp your gates?

Ab.
Haue we not reason, when an hoast of men,
Hunt and pursue religious chastitie?
King Iohn, bethinke thee what thou tak'st in hand,
On paine of interdiction of thy Land.
Murdrers and fellons may haue sanctuary:
And shall not honorable maids distrest,
Religious virgins, holy Nunnes profest,
Haue that small priuiledge? Now out vpon thee, out.
Holy Saint Catherine shield my virginitie:
I neuer stoode in such extreamitie.

Hu.
My Lord, the Abbesse lyes, I warrant you:
For I haue heard, there is a Monke of Bury,
That once a weake comes thither to make merry.

Kin.
Content thee Hubert, that same monke and she,
And the worst come, my instruments shall be.
Good Ladie Abbesse, feare no violence:
There's not one here shall offer you offence.

Fitz.
Daughter, all this while teares my speech haue staid.
My Lord the King: Lords all draw neare I pray:
And heare a poore mans parting from his childe.
Matilda, still my vnstaind honours ioy,
Faire Ornament of old Fitzwaters coat,
Borne to rich fortunes, did not this ill age
Bereaue thee of thy birth-rights heritage.
Thou seest our Soueraigne, Lord of both our liues,
A long besieger of thy chastitie,
Hath scattred all our forces, slaine our friends,
Raced our Castles, left vs nere a house
Wherein to hide vs from his wrathfull eye:
Yet God prouides; France is appointed mee:
And thou find'st house-roome in this Nunry.
Here if the king should dote, as he hath done,
Its sacriledge to tempt a holy Nunne:
But I haue hope he will not: yet my feare
So drownes my hope, as I am forst to stay,
And leaue abruptly, what I more would say.

Mat.
O goe not yet, my grieu'd hearts comforter,
I am as valiant to resist desire,
As euer thou wert worthie in the field.
Iohn may attempt: but if Matilda yield,
O then.

Fitz.
I then Matilda, thou dost loose
The former glorie of thy chast resolues.
These seauen years hast thou bid a Martyrs pains,
Resisting in thy selfe lust-growing tier:
For being mortall, sure thou hadst desire.
And fiue sad winters haue their full course runne,
Since thou didst bury noble Huntington.
In these years, many months, and many daies,
Haue bene consum'd, thy vertues to consume:
Gifts haue bene heralds, Pandars did presume
To tempt thy chast eares, with their vnchast tongues:
All in effect, working to no effect.
For I was still the watchman of thy tower,
The keeper of fowle wormes, from my faire flower:
But now, no more, no more Fitzwater may
Defend his poore Lambe, from the Lyons prey:
Thy order and thy holy prayers may.
To helpe thee, thou hast priuiledge by lawe:
Therefore be resolute, and nobly die,
Abhorre base lust, defend thy chastitie.

K.
Dispatch Fitzwater, hinder not thy childe:
Many preferments doe on her awaite.

Fitz.
I girle, I know thou shalt be offerd wealth
(Which is a shrewde inticement in sad want)
Great honours to lift vp thy lowe estate,
And glorious titles to eternize thee.
Al these doe but gild ouer vgly shame:
Such wealth, my child, foreruns releaselesse need:
Such honour euer prooues dishonourate.
For titles, none comes neare a vertuous name:
O keepe it euer, as thou hast done yet.
And though these darke times should forget thy praise,
An age will come, that shall eternize it.
Bid me farewell, and speake it in a word.

Ma.
Farewell deare father.

Fitz.
Oh farewell sweete childe.
My Liege farewell: Lester, Richmond, Hughbert,
Chester, and Mowbray: friends and foes farewell.
Matilda, see thou keepe thy spotlesse fame,
And liue eterniz'd; els die soone with shame.

Exit.
Na.
Amen, amen, father, adieu, adieu:
Griefe dwels with mee, sweete comfort follow you.

Ab.
Come daughter come: this is a wofull sight,
When good endeauours are opprest by might.

Exeunt from aboue, Abbesse, Matilda.
K.
Ah Hubert, seest thou not the sunne go downe,
Clowdy and darke? Matilda, stay one word.
She shakes her head, and scornefully saies nay.

Rich.
How cheer'st thou Lester?

Lest.
Mad man, at my state:
That cannot raise true honour ruinate.

Enter Messenger.
King.
I will not be disdeignd: I vowe to see
Quick vengeance on this girle, for scorning me.

Mess.
Yoūg Bruse, my Lord, hath gotten Windsor castle,
Slaine Blunt your Constable, and those that kept it:
And finding in a tower his mother dead,
With his young brother staru'd and famished:
That euery one may see the rufull sight,
In the thick wall he a wide windowe makes:
And as he found them, so he lets them be
A spectacle to euery commer by,
That heauen and earth, your tyrant shame may see.
All people cursing, crying fie vpon
The tyrant mercilesse, inhumane Iohn.

Ki.
Chester, and Mowbray, march away to Windsor:
Suppresse that traitor Bruse. What if his dam,
In wilfull fury, would receiue no meat,
Nor suffer her young childe any to eat,
Is it our fault? Haste yee with speede away,
And we wil followe: goe, be gon I pray.

Exit Ch. Mow.
Hu.
O black and wofull deede! O pittious thing,
When slaues attend the fierce thoughts of a king.

Lest.
My Lord, shall we goe too?

Kin.
Lester and Richmond, I: I pray yee doe.

Lest.
Get I my Beare & ragged staffe once more
Rais'd in the field, for these wrongs some shall roare.

Exit Richmond, Lester.
K.
Fetch in the Monke of Bury, that I talkt off,
Exit Hubert, for the Monke.
And bid Will Brand, my instrument of death,
Come likewise in. Conuert, to raging hate,
Monke, Hugh, Brand, enter.
My long resisted loue. Welcome good Monke.

Mon.
Thanks to my Liege.

K.
Thou hast bene long in sute,
To be installed Abbot of your house:
And in your fauour many friends haue stird.
Now is the hower that you shall be preferd,
Upon condition, and the matter small.
Short shrift to make, good honest Confessor,
I loue a faire Nunne, now in Dunmow Abbey.
The Abbesse loues you, and you pleasure her.
Now if, betweene you two, this prettie Ladie
Could be perswaded to affect a king,
Your sute is graunted; and on Dunmowe Abbey,
I will bestowe a hundred markes a yeare.

Mon.
A holy Nunne, a young Nunne, and a Lady.
Deare ware my Lord; yet bid you well as may be:
Strike hands; a bargaine, she shall be your owne:
Or if she will not

Ki.
Nay, if she doe refuse,
Ile send a deaths-man with you, this is hee:
If she be wilfull, leaue her to his hands:
And on her owne head be her hasted end.

Mon.
The matter shall be done.

K.
Sirra, what poysons haue you readie?

Brand.
Store, store.

K.
Awaite on the monke then, and ere we take horse,
Ile giue you such instructions as you neede.
Hughbert, prepare to Windsor with our hoast.

Exit King, Monke.
Hu.
Your tyrannies haue lost my loue almost:
And yet I cannot chuse but loue eternally
This wanton king, repleat with crueltie.
O how are all his princely vertues staind,
With lust abhorred, and lasciuious heate!
Which kindling first to fire, nowe in a flame,
Shewes to the whole world clearely his fowle shame.
To quench this flame, full many a tide of teares,
Like ouerflowing full seas, haue bene spent:
And many a dry land drunke with humane blood;
Yet nothing helps his passions violent:
Rather they adde oyle to his raging fire,
Heate to his heate, desire to his desire.
Somewhat I feare, is now a managing.
For that prodigious bloodie stigmatique,
Is neuer cald vnto his kingly sight,
But like a Comet he portendeth still
Some innouation, or some monstrous act,
Cruell, vnkindly, horrid, full of hate:
As that vile deede at Windsor, done of late.
Gentle Matilda somewhat I mistrust:
Yet thee I neede not feare, such is his loue;
Againe, the place doth giue thee warrantise:
Yet I remember when his Highnesse said,
The lustfull monke of Bury should him aid:
I so it is; if she haue any ill,
Through ye lewd shaueling wil her shame be wrought.
If it so chaunce, Matildaes guiltlesse wrong
Will with the losse of many a life be bought.
But Hubert will be still his dread Lords friend,
Howeuer he deserues, his master serue:
Though he neglect, him will not I neglect:
Whoeuer failes him, I will Iohn affect.
For though kings fault in many a foule offence,
Subiects must sue, not mend with violence.

Exit.
Enter Oxford, Queene.
Ox.
Now by my faith, you are too blame Madame:
Euer tormenting euer vexing you?
Cease off these fretting humours, pray yee doe.
Griefe will not mend it, nought can pleasure you,
But patient suffering: nor by your Graces leaue,
Haue you such cause to make this hue and cry
After a husband; you haue not in good sooth.
Yearely a childe? this paiment is not bad.
Content faire Queene, and do not think it strange,
That kings doe sometimes seeke delight in change:
For now and then, I tell you, poore men range.
Sit downe a little, I will make you smile.
Though I be now like to the snowie Alpes,
I was as hot as AEtna in my youth:
All fire yfaith, true heart of oake, right steele,
A ruffian Ladie: often for my sport,
I to a lodge of mine did make resort,
To viewe my deere I said; deare God can tell,
It was my keepers wife, whome I lou'd well.
My Countesse (God be with her) was a shrowe,
As women be, your Maiestie doth knowe:
And some odde pickthanke put it in her head,
All was not well: but such a life I led,
And the poore keeper, and his smooth'd fac't wife,
That will I, nil I, there she might not bide:
But for the people I did well prouide:
And by gods mother, for my Ladies spight,
I trickt her in her kinde, I seru'd her right.
Were she at London, I the country kept;
Come thither, I at London would soiourne:
Came she to court, from court I straightway stept:
Return, I to the court would backe returne.
So this way, that way, euery way she went,
I still was retrograde, seld opposite:
Till at the last, by mildenesse and submission,
We met, kist, ioyn'd, and here left all suspition.

Qu.
Now out vpon you Vere, I would haue thought,
The world had not containd a chaster man.

Ox.
Now, by my fay, I will be sworne, I am.
In all I tell you, I confesse no ill,
But that I curbd a froward womans will:
Yet had my Keepers wife bene of my minde,
There had bene cause some fault with vs to finde:
But I protest, her noes and nayes were such,
That for my life she euer kept goe much.

Qu.
You would take nay: but our king Iohn saies no:
No nay, no answere will suffice his turne:
He, for he cannot tempt true chastitie,
Filles all the Land with hostile crueltie.
Is it not shame, he that should punish sinne,
Defend the righteous, helpe the innocent,
Carues with his sworde, the purpose of his will,
Upon the guarders of the vertuous,
And hunts admired spotlesse maiden-head,
With all the darts of desolation,
Because she scorneth to be dissolute.
Me, that he leaues, I doe not murmur at:
That he loues her, doth no whit me perplex,
If she did loue him, or my selfe did hate:
But this alone is it that me doth vex,
He leaues me that loues him, and her pursues,
That loath him and loues me; how can I chuse,
But sadly grieue, and mourne in my greene youth?
When nor of her, nor mee he taketh ruthe.

Ox.
Ha done, good Queene, for gods good loue, ha don.
This raging humour will no doubt be staid.
Uertuous Matilda is profest a Nunne:
Within a mile, at Dunmow liues the maid:
God will not suffer any thing so vile:
Hee will not sure, that he should her defile.

Qu.
Nor Church, nor chappell, Abbey, Nunry,
Are priuiledg'd from his intemperance.
But leaue we him, and let vs, I entreat,
Goe visit faire Matilda: much I am
In debt vnto the maide.

Ox.
You are indeede.
You wrongd her, when with blowes you made her bleed.
But if you please to visit her, faire dame,
Our coach is readie: we will soone be there.

Qu.
Thanks Oxford; and with vs I meane to beare
The beautious garland, sent me out of Spaine:
Which I will offer in the Abbey chappell:
As witnesse of Matildaes chastitie:
Whom while I liue, I euer vow to loue,
In recompence of rash and causelesse wrong.

Enter Brand solus, with cuppe, bottle of poyson.
Brand.
Good, by this hand: exceding, passing good.
The dog no sooner dranke it, but, yugh, yugh quoth he:
So grins me with his teeth: lyes downe, and dies.
Yughst quoth I? by gogs bloud goe thy waies:
Of all thy line and generation,
Was neuer dog so worshipt as thou art.
For ere thou di'dst, thou wert an officer:
I ly not, by these nailes, a squires place:
For the vile cur became a countesse taster.
So dyed the dog. Now in our next account
The Countesse comes, lets see a Countesse & a Nunne.
Why so? why so?
What would she haue the whole world quite vndone?
Weele meete her for that trick. What, not a king?
Hanging's too good for her; I am but a plaine knaue,
And yet should any of these no forsooths,
These pray awayes, these trip and goes, these tits,
Deny mee: now by these:
A plague vpon this bottle and this cup:
I cannot act mine oath: but too't againe.
By these ten ends of flesh and blood, I sweare:
First with this hand, wound thus about her haire,
And with this dagger lustilie lambackt:
I would yfaith, I, by my villany,
I would: but here, but here she comes,
Led by two doctors in sweete letchery:
If they speede, with my poyson I goe by;
If not, haue at you maid: then steppe in I.

Enter Matilda, betweene the Monke and the Nunne.
Mon.
And as I saide, faire maid, you haue done well,
In your distresse, to seeke this holy place:
But tell me truely, how doe you expell
The rage of lust-arising heat in you?

Ma
By praier, by fasting, by considering
The shame of ill, and meede of doing well.

Ab.
But daughter, daughter, tell me in my eare,
Haue you no fleshly fightings now and then?

whisper.
Brand.
Fleshly quoth you? a maid of threescore years,
And fleshly fightings sticking in her teeth?
Well wench, th'art matcht yfaith.

Ab.
You doe confesse the king hath tempted you,
And thinking now and then on gifts and state,
A glowing heat hath proudly puft you vp:
But thanks to God, his Grace hath done you good.

Mon.
Who, the kings Grace?

Ma.
No: Gods Grace, holy monke.

Mo.
The kings Grace faine would do you good, faire maid.

Ma.
Ill good: he meanes my fame to violate.

Ab.
Well, let that be.

Br.
Good baud, good mother B.
How faine you would that that good deed should be!

Ab.
I was about to say somewhat vpon a thing. O thus it is.
We maids that all the day are occupied,
In labour and chaste hallowed exercise,
Are nothing so much tempted while day lasts,
As we are tried and prooued in the night.
Tell mee Matilda, had you since you came,
No dreames, no visions, nothing worth the note?

Ma.
No, I thanke God.

Ab.
Truly you will, you will;
Except you take good heede and blesse your selfe.
For if I lie but on my backe a while,
I am past recouery, sure of a bad dreame.
You see yon reuerend Monke: now God he knowes,
I loue him dearer for his holinesse:
And I beleeue the diuell knowes it too:
For the foule fiend comes to me many a night,
As like the monke, as if he were the man.
Many a hundred nights, the Nuns haue seene:
Pray, cry, make crosses, doe they what they can.
Once gotten in, then doe I fall to worke,
My holy water bucket being neere hand,
I whisper secret spelles, and coniure him,
That the foule fiend hath no more powre to stand:
He downe, as I can quickly get him laid,
I blesse my selfe, and like a holy maid,
Turne on my right side: where I sleepe all night,
Without more dreames, or troubling of the spright,

Brand.
An Abbesse! by the crosse of my good blade,
An excellent mother to bring vp a maid,
For mee I meane, and my good master, Iohn:
But neuer any for an honest man.
Coughs.
Now fie vpon that word of honestie:
Passing my throat, 'thad almost choked me:
Sblood Ile forsweare it for this tricke.

Mon.
We trifle time. Faire maid, its thus in briefe;
This Abbey by your meanes may haue reliefe:
An hundred markes a yeare: answere I pray,
What will you doe herein?

Ma.
Euen all I may.

Ab.
Its charitably spoken, my faire childe:
A little thing of yours, a little helpe
Will serue the turne; learne but to beare, to beare
The burden of this world, and it will doe.

Bra.
Well goe thy waies: Is this no baud think you?

Ma.
Madam, the heauie burden of the world
Hath long opprest mee.

Ab
But not prest you right:
Now shall you beare a burden farre more light.

Ma.
What burden bearing? wherto tends this talke?

Mon.
To you, to vs, this Abbey and King Iohn.

Ma.
O God forefend he should be thought vpon.

Mon.
Lady make short, the King must lie with you.

Ma.
With me, with me?

First turns to the Monke, then to the Abbesse.
Ab.
Sweete neuer looke so strange:
He shall come closely, no bodie shall see.

Ma.
How can he come, but one hath eyes to see?

Mon.
Your chamber windowes shall be shadowed.

Mat.
But no vaile from my conscience shadowes me.

Ab.
And all the Nunnes sent quietly to bed.

Ma.
But they will rise, and, by my blushing red,
Quickly giue guesse of my lost maidenhead.

Bra.
She goes yfaith, by God she is their owne.

Mo.
Be not so nice, the sin is veniall:
Considering you yield for charitie,
And by your fall, the Nunnery shall rise.

Ab.
Regard good counsell daughter, pray be wise.

Mon.
Come, here's a stirre: wilt doe wench? wil it do?

Ab.
Say I, say I, forget the sound of no:
Or else say no and take it: wilt thou so?

Mat.
Doe you intend thus lewdely as you speake?

Br.
I by gogs bloode do they: & moppet, you were best
To take their proffers, least if they forsake you,
I play the diuels part, step in and take you.

Mat.
Some holy water, helpe me blessed Nunnes.
Two damned spirits, in religious weedes,
Attempt to tempt my spotlesse chastitie:
And a third diuell gaping for my soule,
With horrid starings, gastly frighteth me.

Ab.
You may call while you will: but maid list what we say,
Or be assur'd this is your dying day.

Drawes a Crucifix.
Mat.
In his name that did suffer for my sinne,
And by this blessed signe, I coniure you:
Depart fowle fiends, returne from whence yee came:
Auoide yee fiends, and cease to trouble mee.

Brand.
Zounds, she thinks vs diuels. Heare you coniurer?
Except you vse that tricke, to coniure downe
The standing spirit of my Lord the King,
That your good mother there, the Abbesse vses,
To coniure downe the spirit of the Monke,
Not all your crosses haue the power to blesse
Your bodie from a sharpe and speedie death.

Ma.
Are ye not fiends, but mortall bodies then?

Feeles them all.
Brand.
Maid, maid: catch lower, when you feele yoūg men.
Sblood, I was neuer taken for the diuell till now?

Ma.
O where shall chastitie haue true defence,
When Churchmen lay this siege to innocence?
Where shall a maid haue certaine sanctuary,
When Ladie Lust rules all the Nunnery?
Now fie vpon yee both, false seeming Saints,
Incarnate diuels, diuelish hypocrites.
A cowled Monke, an aged vailed Nunne,
Become base Pandars! and with lustful speach,
Assaie the chast eares of true maidenhead!
Now fie vpon this age, would I were deade.

Monk.
Come leaue her Ladie; she shall haue her wish.

Ab.
Speede her I pray thee; should the baggage liue,
Sheele slaunder all the chaste Nunnes in the Land.

Exeunt Monke, Abbesse.
Bra.
Well, well, goe get you two vnto your coniuring:
Let me alone to lay her on gods ground.

Ma.
Why dost thou stay?

Bra.
Why maid, because I must:
I haue a message to you from the king.

Ma.
And thou art welcome to his humble maid.
I thought thee to be grim and fierce at first:
But now thou hast a sweete aspect, milde lookes.
Art thou not come to kill me from the king?

Brand.
Yes.

Ma.
And thou art welcom, euen the welcom'st man,
That euer came vnto a woefull maid.
Be briefe goodfellow: I haue in the world,
No goods to giue, no will at all to make:
But Gods will and the kings on me be done.
A little money kept to giue in almes,
I haue about mee, deaths-man take it all:
Thou art the last poore alms-man I shall see.
Come, come, dispatch: what weapon will death weare,
When he assailes mee? Is it knife, or sworde?
A strangling cord, or sodaine flaming fire?

Bran.
Neither, thou manly maid: looke here, look here:
A cup of poyson. Wherefore dost thou smile?

Mat.
O God, in this the king is mercifull.
My deare lou'd Huntington by poyson dyed.
Good fellow, tell the king I thanke his Grace,
And doe forgiue his causelesse crueltie.
I doe forgiue thee to; but doe aduise
Thou leaue this bloodie course, and seeke to saue
Thy soule immortall, closed in thy brest:
Giues it her.
Be briefe I pray thee: now to King Iohns health
A full carouse; and god remember not
The curse he gaue himselfe at Robins death,
Wishing by poyson he might end his life,
If euer he solicited my loue.
Farewell goodfellowe, now thy medicine workes,
And with the labour, I am forc't to rest.

Bra.
Zounds she cares not, she makes death a ieast.

Ma.
The guiltlesse feare not death. Farewel good friēd:
I pray thee be no trouble in my end.

He stands staring and quaking.
Enter Oxford, Queene, Abbesse, attendants.
Ox.
And say you Ladie Abbesse that there came
One from the King vnto her? what was hee?

Ab.
Yonder he stands, I know not what he is.

Still he stands staring.
Q.
Iesus haue mercy. Oxford, come not nigh him.

Ox.
Not nigh him Madame? yes: keepe you away.

Ab.
Come in good Queene: I doe not mean to stay.
Exit Ab.
Nor I to stirre, before I see the end.

Ox.
Why starest thou thus? speake fellow, answer me.
Who art thou?

Bra.
A bloodie villaine, and a murderer.
A hundred haue I slaine with mine owne hands.
Twas I that staru'd the Ladie Bruse to death,
And her young sonne, at Windsor Castle late.
Tis I haue slaine Matilda, blessed maid,
And now will hurry to damnations mouth,
Forst by the gnawing worme of conscience.

Runs in.
Ox.
Hold him for gods sake: stay the desperate wretch.

Ma.
O some good pittying man compassionate
That wretched man, so woefull desperate:
Saue him for gods sake: he hath set me free,
From much worlds woe, much wrong, much miserie.

Qu.
I heare thy tongue, true perfect charitie.
Chaste maide, faire maide, looke vp and speake to mee.

Ma.
Whose here? my gratious soueraigne Isabell?
I will take strength and kneele.

Qu.
Matilda sit, Ile kneele to thee. Forgiue me, gētle girle,
My most vngentle wrongs.

Ma.
Faire beautious Queene,
I giue god thankes, I doe not thinke on wrongs.

Ox.
How now Fitzwaters childe? how dost thou girle?

Ma.
Well, my good Lord of Oxford: prettie well:
A little trauell more, and I shall rest:
For I am almost at my iorneyes end.
O that my head were rais'd a little vp:
My drousie head, whose dim decaying lights,
Assure me it is almost time to sleep.
Raise her heade.
I thanke your Hignesse, I haue now some ease.
Be witnesse, I beseech your Maiestie,
That I forgiue the King, with all my heart:
With all the little of my liuing heart,
That giues me leaue to say, I can forgiue:
And I beseech high heauen he long may liue
A happie King, a king beloou'd and feard.
Oxford, for gods sake, to my father write
The latest commendations of his childe:
And say, Matilda kept his Honours charge,
Dying a spotlesse maiden vndefilde.
Bid him be glad, for I am gone to ioy:
I that did turne his weale to bitter woe.
The king and he will quickly now growe friends,
And by their friendshippe much content will growe.
Sinke earth to earth, fade flower, ordaind to fade:
But passe forth soule vnto the shrine of peace,
Beg there attonement may be quickly made.
Faire Queene, kinde Oxford, all good you attend:
Fly forth my soule, heauens king be there thy friend.

Ox.
O pittie, mourning sight, age pittilesse:
Are these the messages king Iohn doth send!
Keepe in, my teares, for shame, your conduits keepe,
Sad woe beholding eyes: no, will ye not?
Why, then a Gods name weepe.

Sit.
Qu.
I cannot weepe for wrath: here, here, take in
The blessed bodie of this noble maid:
In milke white cloathing let the same be laid,
Exeunt with the bodie.
Upon an open biere, that all may see
King Iohns vnkingly lust and crueltie.

Ox.
I, be it so. Your selfe, if so you please,
Will I attend vpon, and both vs waite
On chast Matildaes bodie: which with speede,
To Windsor Castle we will hence conuey:
There is another spectacle of ruth,
Old Bruses famisht Ladie and her sonne.

Qu.
There is the king besieging of young Bruse,
His Lords are there: who when they see this sight,
I know will haue small heart for Iohn to fight.

Ox.
But where's the murderer, ha? is not he staid?

Ser.
Borne with a violent rage, he clim'd a tree,
And none of vs could hinder his intent:
But getting to the top boughes, fast he tied
His garters to his necke, and a weake branch,
Which being vnable to sustaine his weight,
Downe to the ground he fell, where bones and flesh
Lie pasht together, in a poole of bloode.

Ox.
Alas for woe; but this is iust heauens doome
On those that liue by bloode: in bloode they die.
May an example of it, honest friends,
Doe well, take paines, beware of crueltie.
Come Madam, come, to Windsor let vs goe:
And there to Bruses griefe, adde greater woe.

Exeunt.
Enter Bruse, vpon the walles.
Bru.
Will not my bitter bannings and sad plaints,
My iust and execrable execrations,
My teares, my prayers, my pittie-mouing mones
Preuaile, thou glorious bright Lampe of the day,
To cause thee keepe an obit for their soules,
And dwell one month with the Antipodes?
Bright sunne retire, gylde not this vault of death,
With thy illustrate raies: retyre, retyre,
And yield black night thy Empery a while:
A little while, till as my teares be spent,
My bloode be likewise shed in raining drops,
By the tempestuous rage of tyrant Iohn.
Learne of thy loue, the morning: she hath wept,
Shower vpon shower, of siluer deawie teares.
High trees, lowe plants, and prettie little flowers
Witnesse her woe: on them her griefe appeares:
And as shee dreepes on them, they doe not let,
By droppe and droppe, their mother earth to wet.
See these hard stones, how fast small rouelets
Issue from them, though they seeme issuelesse:
And wet eyed woe on euery thing is viewde:
Saue in thy face that smil'st at my distresse.
O doe not drinke their teares thus greedily:
Yet let the mornings mourning garment dwell
Upon the sad earth. Wilt thou not, thou churle?
Then surfet with thy exhalations speedily:
For all earths venemous infecting wormes
Haue belcht their seuerall poysons on the fields,
Mixing their simples in thy compound draught.
Well Phœbus well, drinke on I say, drinke on:
But when thou dost vngorge thee, grant me this,
Thou power those poysons on the head of Iohn.

Drum. Enter Chester, Mowbray, Souldiers: Lester, Richmond at an other: Souldiers.
Bru.
How now my Lords: were ye last night so pleas'd
With the beholding of that propertie,
Which Iohn and other murderers haue wrought,
Upon my starued mother and her sonne:
That you are come againe? Shall I againe
Set open shop, shew my dead ware, deare bought,
Of a relentlesse merchant that doth trade
On the red sea, swolne mightie with the bloud
Of noble, vertuous, harmelesse innocents?
Whose cole black vessell is of Ebonie,
Their shrouds & tackle (wrought & wou'n by wrong)
Stretcht with no other gale of winde, but griefe:
Whose sighes with full blasts beateth on her shrouds:
The Master murder is, the Pilot shame,
The Mariners rape, theft, and periury:
The burden, tyrannous oppression,
Which howerly he in England doth vnlade:
Say, shall I open shop, and shewe my wares?

Lest.
No, good Lord Bruse, we haue enough of that.

Drum: Enter king, Hubert, Souldiers.
Ki.
To Windsor welcome, Hubert: Soft: me thinks
Bruse and our Lords are at a parly now?

Br.
Chester and Mowbray, you are Iohns sworn friends:
Will you see more? Speake, answere me my Lords:
I am no niggard, you shall haue your fill.

Both.
We haue too much, and surfet with the woe.

Br.
Are you all full? Here comes a rauening kite,
That both at quick, at deade, at all will smite.
He shall, he must, I, and bir Lady, may
Commaund me to giue ouer holy day,
And set wide open, what you would not see.

Ki.
Why stand ye Lords, and see this traitour pearcht,
Upon our Castles battlements so proude?
Come downe young Bruse, set ope the castle gates:
Unto thy soueraigne, let thy knee be bow'd,
And mercie shall be giuen to thee and thine.

Br.
O miserable thing:
Comes mercie from the mouth of Iohn our king?
Why then belike hell will be pittifull.
I will not ope the gates, the gate I will:
The gate where thy shame, and my sorrowe sits.
See my dead mother, and her famisht sonne:
Open thy tyrants eyes: for to the world,
I will lay open thy fell cruelties.

K.
We heard indeede, thy mother and her sonne
In prison dyed, by wilfull famishment.

Br.
Sinne doubled vpon sin. Slaunderst thou the dead?
Unwilling willingnesse it shall appeare,
By then I haue produc't, as I will doe,
The iust presumptions gainst your vniust act.

K.
Assaile the castle Lords: Alarum drums:
And drown this scrietchowls cryes wt your deep sounds.

Lest.
I tell thee drummer, if thy drum thou smite,
By heauen, Ile send thy soule to hels darke night.
Hence with thy drum: gods passion, get thee hence:
Be gone I say, moue not my patience.

Exit drum.
K.
Are you aduised Lester, what you doe?

Lest.
I am aduised: for my Soueraigne knowe,
Ther's not a Lord here will lift vp his arme,
Against the person of yon noble youth,
Till you haue heard the circumstantiall truth,
By good presumptions, touching this foule deede.
Therefore goe on young Bruse, proceede, refell
The allegation that puts in this doubt,
Whether thy mother through her wilfulnesse,
Famisht her selfe and her sweete sonne, or no?

Br.
Unlikely supposition: nature first denies,
That any mother, when her youngling cryes,
If she haue meanes, is so vnnaturall
To let it faint and starue. But we will prooue
She had no meanes; except this monefull meane,
This torture of her selfe. Come forth, come forth,
Sir William Blunt, whome slaunder saies I slewe:
Come tell the king and Lords what you know true.

King.
Thou hast betraid our Castle.

Blunt.
No: God can tell it was surpriz'd by politicke report,
And affirmation that your Grace was slaine.

Rich.
Go on, sir William Blunt:
Passe briefely to the Ladies famishment.

Bl.
About some ten daies since, there came one Brand,
Bringing a signet from my Lord the king,
And this commission signed with his hand,
Lords looke, and reade the thing.
Commaunding me (as the contents expresse)
That I should presently deliuer vp
The Ladie Bruse and her young sonne to him.

Mow.
What time a day was this?

Bl.
It was, Lord Mowbray, somewhat past eleauen:
For we were euen then sitting downe to dine.

Lest.
But did yee dine?

Bl.
The Ladie and her sonne did not:
Brand would not stay.

Bru.
No Lester, no: for here is no such signe
Of any meats digesture.

Rich.
But by the way. Tell vs I pray you Blunt,
While she remained with you, was she distraught
With griefe, or any other passions violent?

Blu.
She now and then would weepe, & often pray,
For reconcilement twixt the king and Lords.

Chest.
How to her sonne did she affected stand?

Blu.
Affection could not any more affect:
Nor might a mother shewe more mothers loue.

Mowb.
How to my Lord the king?

Bl.
O my Lord God! I neuer knewe a subiect loue king more:
She neuer would blin telling how his Grace
Sau'd her young sonne from souldiers, & from fire:
How faire he spake, gaue her her sonne to keepe:
And then, poore Ladie, she would kisse her boy,
Pray for the king so hearty earnestly,
That in pure zeale, she wept most bitterly.

K.
I weepe for her, and doe by heauen protest,
I honour'd Bruses wife. How ere that slaue
Rudely effected what I rashly wild:
Yet when he came againe, and I bethought,
What bitter pennance I had put them to,
For my conceiu'd displeasure gainst old Bruse,
I bad the villaine poste and beare them meat:
Which he excus'd, protesting pittie mou'd him
To leaue wine, bread, and other poudred meate,
More than they twaine could in a fortnight eate.

Blu.
Indeede, this can I witnesse with the king,
Which argues in that point his innocence:
Brand did beare in a months prouision;
But lockt it like a villaine, farre from them:
And lockt them in a place where no mans eare
Might heare their lamentable wofull mones:
For all the issue both of vent and light,
Came from a loouer at the towers toppe,
Till now Lord Bruse made open this wide gappe.

Br.
Had I not reason, thinke you, to make wide
The windowe that should let so much woe forth?
Where sits my mother martyrde by her selfe,
Hoping to saue her childe from martyrdome:
Where stands my brother martyrd by himselfe,
Because he would not taste his mothers bloud.
For thus I gather this: my mothers teeth and chin
Are bloudy with the sauage cookery,
Which her soft heart, through pittie of her sonne,
Respectlesse, made her practise on her selfe:
And her right hand, with offring it the child,
Is with her owne pure bloud staind and defilde.
My little brothers lips and chin, alone,
Are tainted with the bloud: but his eauen teeth,
Like orient pearle, or snowe-white yuory,
Haue not one touch of bloud, one little spot:
Which is an argument the boy would not
Once stir his lips, to taste that bloudy foode,
Our cruell gentle mother ministred:
But as it seem'd (for see, his prettie
Palme is bloody too) he cast it on the ground:
For on this side these blessed reliques lye,
By famines rage diuided from this shrine.
Sad wofull mother in Ierusalem,
Who when thy sonne and thou didst faint for foode,
Buryed his sweete flesh in thy hungry wombe:
How mercilesse wert thou, if we compare
Thy fact and this? For my poore Ladie mother
Did kill her selfe, to saue my dying brother.
And thou vngentle sonne of Miriam,
Why didst thou beg life when thy mother lackt?
My little brother George did nobly act
A more couragious part; he would not eat,
Nor beg to liue, it seem'd he did not cry:
Fewe teares stand on his cheeke, smooth is each eye:
But when he sawe my mother bent to die,
He dyed with her: O childish valiancie!

Kin.
Good Bruse haue done: my heart can not containe
The griefe it holds, my eyes must shoure down raine.

Lest.
Which showers are euen as good,
As raine in haruest, or a swelling floode
When neighbouring medowes lack the mowers sithe.

A march for buriall, with drum and fife. Enter Oxford, Matilda borne with Nuns, one carrying a white pendant. These words writ in golde; Amoris, Castitatis, & Honoris honos. The Queene following the Biere, carrying a Garland of flowers: set it in the midst of the Stage.
Rich.
List Lester, hearst thou not a mournfull march?

Lest.
Yes Richmond, and it seemeth old de Vere.

Ox.
Lords, by your leaue, is not our soueraign here?

K.
Yes good old Awbury.

Ox.
Ah my gratious Lord,
That you so much your high state should neglect!
Ah god in heauen forgiue this bloudie deede.
Young Bruse, young Bruse, I weepe,
Thy mothers and thy brothers wrong.
Yet to afflict thee more, more griefe I bring.

Br.
O Honourable Awbery de Vere,
Let sorrow in a sable sute appeare:
Doe not misshape her garments, like delight.
If it be griefe, why cloth'st thou her in white?

Ox.
I cannot tell thee yet: I must sit downe.
Attend young Bruse, and listen to the Queene:
Sheele not be tongue tyed, we shall haue a stirre
Anone, I feare, would make a man halfe sicke.

Qu.
Are you here leatcher? O intemperate king,
Wilt thou not see mee? come, come, shewe your face:
Your Graces gracelesse, kings, vnkingly face.
What? mute, hands folded, eyes fixt on the earth?
Whose turne is next now to be murdered?
The famisht Bruses are on yonder side:
On this another, I will name anone:
One for whose head this garland I doe beare,
And this faire milke-white spotlesse pendant too.
Looke vp king Iohn, see, yonder sits thy shame:
Yonder it lyes: what, must I tell her name?
It is Matilda, poysoned by thee.

Ki.
Matilda: O that foule swift footed slaue,
That kils ere one haue time to bid him saue.
Faire gentle girle, vngently made away.

Br.
My banisht vncles daughter, art thou there?
Then I defie all hope, and sweare

Lest.
Stay Bruse, and listen wel what oath to swear.
Lewys the Dolphin, pittying onr estate,
Is by the Christian king his father, sent
With aid to helpe vs, and is landed too.
Lords that will fly the denne of cruelty,
And fight to free your selues from tyranny,
Bruse, keepe that Castle, to the only vse
Of our elected king, Lewys of Fraunce.

Oxf.
Gods passion doe not so: king Iohn is here.
Lords, whisper not with Lester. Lester, fie:
Stir not againe regardlesse mutinie:
Speake to them Hugh: I know thou loou'st the king.
Madame, goe to them, nay doe, for gods sake doe:
Downe with your stomacke: for if he goe downe,
You must downe too, and be no longer Queene:
Aduise you, goe intreat them speedily.
My soueraigne, wherefore sit you sighing there?
The Lords are all about to followe Lewys:
Up and intreat them, els they will away.

K,
Good Oxford let them goe. Why should they stay?

Ox.
What? are you desperate? that must not be.
Heare me my Lords.

All stand in Counsell.
Ki.
This pendant let mee see.
Amoris, Castitatis, & Honoris honos.
She was indeede of London the honour once,
When she was lou'd of vertuous Huntington:
Of chastitie the honour, all her life:
To impure thoughts she neuer could be wonne.
And she of Honour was the honour too,
By birth, in life, she honour honoured.
Bring in two tapers lighted, quick, dispatch.

Lest.
Remēber Bruse, thy charge. Come Lords away.
All, but Oxford and Hugh.
Away, wee will away.

Bring in two white Tapers.
Ox.
Harke Lester but one word, a little stay.
Helpe mee good Hubert, helpe me gentle Queene.

Againe conferre.
K.
How dim these Tapers burne! they giue no light.
Here were two beautious Lamps, yt could haue taught
The Sunne to shine by day, the Moone by night:
But they are dim too: cleane extinguished.
Away with these, sith those faire lights be dead.

Ox.
And as I say, harke Bruse vnto our talke.
Thinke you it is for loue of England, Lewis comes?
Nay: Fraunce is not so kinde: I would it were.
Aduise your selues; harke, dost thou heare me Bruse?

Br.
Oxford, I doe.

Ox.
Can noble English hearts beare the French yoke?
No Lester: Richmond thinke on Lewys sire,
That left you, and your king, in Palestine.

Qu.
And think beside, you know not Lewys nature,
Who may be as bad as Iohn, or rather worse than he.

Hu.
And looke my Lords vpon his silent woe:
His soule is at the doore of death I knowe.
See how he seekes to suck, if he could drawe,
Poyson from dead Matildaes ashie lips.
Ile be sworne his very heart strings nips.
A vengeance on that slaue, that cursed Brand,
Ile kill him if I liue, with this right hand.

Ox.
Thou canst not Hubert, he hath kild himselfe:
But to our matter. Lester, pray thee speake.
Young Bruse, for gods sake let vs knowe thy minde.

Bru.
I would be loath to be a strangers slaue:
For Englands loue, I would no French king haue.

Lest.
Well Oxford, if I be deceiu'd in Iohn againe,
Its long of you, Lord Hubert, and the Queene.
Yield vp the Castle Bruse, weele once more try
King Iohns proceedings. Oxford, tell him so.

Oxford goes to the king, does his duety, and talkes with him.
Br.
I will come downe: but first farewell dear mother.
Kisse her.
Farewell poore little George, my pretty brother.
Now will I shut my shambles in againe.
Farewell, farewell.
In euerlasting blisse your sweete soules dwell.

Ox.
But you must mend yfaith, in faith you must.

Lest.
My Lord, once more your subiects do submit,
Beseeching you to thinke how things haue past,
And let some comfort shine on vs your friends,
Through the bright splendour of your vertuous life.

K.
I thanke you all; and Lester I protest,
I will be better than I yet haue beene.

Br.
Of Windsor Castle here the keyes I yield.

K.
Thanks Bruse: forgiue mee, and I pray thee see
Thy mother and thy brother buried,
Bruse offers to kisse Matilda.
In Windsor Castle Church. Doe, kisse her cheeke:
Weepe thou on that, on this side I will weepe.

Q.
Chaste virgine, thus I crowne thee wt these flowers.

K.
Let vs goe on to Dunmow with this maid:
Among the hallowed Nunnes let her be laide:
Unto her tombe, a monthly pilgrimage
Doth king Iohn vowe in penance for this wrong.
Goe forward maids: on with Matildaes herse,
And on her Toombe see you ingraue this verse;
Within this Marble monument, doth lye
Matilda martyrde, for her chastitie.

Exeunt.