THE DEATH OF ROBERT, earl OF HUNTINGTON.  
OTHERWISE CALLED Robin Hood of merry Sherwood: with the lamentable Tragedy of chaste MATILDA, his fair maid MARIAN, poisoned at Dunmowe by King JOHN.  
Acted by the Right Honourable, the Earl of Nottingham, Lord high Admiral of England, his servants.  
¶ Imprinted at London, for William Leak, 1601.   

THE DEATH OF ROBERT, earl OF HUNTINGTON.  ¶ Enter Friar tuck. 

scene. I,  Friar. 
HOlla, holla, holla —follow, follow, follow. Like noise within. Now benedicite, what foul absurdity, folly & foolery had like to followed me! I & my mates, like addle pates, inviting great States, to see our last play, are hunting the hay, with ho, that way, the goodly Heart ran, with follow little john, Much play the man; and I, like a sot, have wholly forgot the course of our plot: but crossbow lie down, come on friars gown, hood cover my crown, and with a low beck, prevent a sharp check.  
Blithe sit ye all, and wink at our rude cry,  
Mind where we left, in Sheerewod merrily,  
The king, his train, Robin, his yeomen tall  
Gone to the wood to see the fat dear fall:  
we left maid Marian busy in the bower,  
And pretty linny looking, every hour,  
For their returning from the hunting game,  
And therefore seek to set each thing in frame.  
Warman all woeful for his sin we left.  
Sir Doncaster, whose villainies and theft,  
You never heard of, but too soon ye shall,  
Hurt with the Prior; shame them both befall,  
They two will make our mirth be short and small.  
But least I bring ye sorrow ere the time,  
Pardon I beg of your well judging eyen,  
And take in part bad prologue, and rude play:  
The hunters holloo, tuck must needs away.  
Therefore down weed, bow do the deed, to make the Stag bleed, and if my hand speed, heigh for a cry, with a throat strained high, & a loud yell, at the beasts fall.  Exit. Holloo within. Enter King, Ely, Fitzwater, Salisbury, Chester, Prince john, little john, Scathlock. Kin. 
Where is our mother?  Pr. john. 
Mounted in a stand.  
Six fallow dear have died by her hand.  Fitz. 
Three Stags I slew.  Ely. 
Two Bucks by me fell down.  Chest. 
As many died by me.  Sals. 
But I had three.  Prin. 
Scathlock, where's Much  Sca. 
When last I saw him, may it please your Grace,  
He and the Friar footed it apace.  Prin. 
Scathlock, no Grace, your fellow & plain john.  Lit. Ioh. 
I warrant you, Much will be here anon.  Pr. 
Thinkst thou little John, that he must jinny wed's  Lit. Ioh. 
No doubt he must.  Prin. 
Then to adorn his head, we shall have horns good store.  King. 
God, for thy grace,  
How could I miss the Stag I had in chase!  
Twice did I hit him in the very neck,  
When back my arrows flew, as they had smit  
On some sure armour. Where is Robin Hood,  
And the wight Scarlet? Seek them little john,  Exit Ioh. 
I'll have that Stag before I dine today.  ¶ Enter Much. Much. 
O the friar, the friar, the friar.  King. 
Why, how now Much?  
Cry ye mercy, master king. Marry this is the matter; Scarlet is following the Stag you hit, and has almost lodged him: now the Friar has the best bow, but yours, in all the field: which and Scarlet had, he would have him straight.  Kin. 
Where is thy master?  Much. 
Nay, I cannot tell, nor the Friar neither.  Scath. 
I hear them holloo, far off in the wood.  King. 
Come Much, canst lead us where as Scarlet is?  Muc. 
Never fear you; follow me,  Exeunt, hollooing.  

scene. II.  ¶ Enter sir Doncaster, Prior. Don. 
You were resolved to have him poisoned,  
Or killed, or made away, you cared not how.  
What devil makes you doubtful now to do't?  Pri. 
Why Doncaster? his kindness in our needs.  Don. 
A plague upon his kindness, let him die.  
I never tempered poison in my life, but I employed it.  
By th'mass and I lose this,  
For ever look to lose my company.  Pri. 
But will you give it him?  Don. 
That cannot be.  
The Queen. earl Chester, and Earl Salisbury,  
If they once see me, I am a dead man:  
Or did they hear my name, I'll lay my life,  
They all would hunt me, for my life.  Pri. 
What hast thou done to them?  Don. 
Faith, some odd toys,  
That made me fly the south: but pass we them:  
Here is the poison: will you give it Robin?  Pri. 
Now by this gold I will.  Don. 
Or as I said, for ever I defy your company.  Pri. 
Well, he shall die, and in his jollity:  
And in my head I have a policy  
To make him die disgraced.  Don. 
O tell it Prior.  Pri. 
I will, but not as now: Call the Friar within.  
we'll seek a place, the woods have many ears,  
And some methinks are calling for the Friar.  Exeunt.  

scene. III.  ¶ Enter, calling the Friar, as afore. Ioh. 
The Friar, the Friar?  Scath. 
Why, where's this Friar?  Fri. 
Here sir. what is your desire?  ¶ Enter Robin Hood. Rob. 
Why Friar, what a murrain dost thou mean?  
The King calls for thee. For, a mighty stag,  
(That hath a copper ring about his neck,  
With letters on it, which he would have read)  
Hath Scarlet killed. I pray thee go thy way.  Fri. 
Master I will, no longer will I stay.  Exit. Rob. 
Good uncle be more careful of your health,  
And you sir Doncaster, your wounds are green.  Both. 
Through your great kindness, we are comforted.  Rob. 
And Warman, I advise you to more mirth.  
Shun solitary walks, keep company,  
Forget your fault: I have forgiven the fault.  
Good Warman be more blithe, and at this time,  
A little help my Marian and her maid:  Much 
shall come to you straight: a little now,  
We must all strive to do the best we may.  Exit, winding. War. 
On you and her I'll wait, until my dying day.  Exeunt, and as they are going out, Doncaster pulls Warman. Don. 
Warman a word, My good Lord Prior and I  
Are full of grief, to see thy misery.  War. 
My misery, sir Doncaster? why? I thank God,  
I never was in better state than now.  Pri. 
Why, what a servile slavish mind hast thou?  
Art thou a man, and canst be such a beast,  
ass-like to bear the burden of thy wrong?  War. 
What wrong have I? be't wrong to be relieved?  Don. 
Relieved sayst thou?  
Why, shallow witted fool,  
Dost thou not see Robin's ambitious pride?  
And how he climes by pitying, and aspires,  
By humble looks, good deeds, and such fond toys,  
To be a monarch, reigning over us,  
As if we were the vassals to his will?  War. 
I am his vassal, and I will be still.  Pri. 
Warman, thou art a fool. I do confess,  
Were these good deeds done in sincerity,  
Pity of mind, thine or this knight's distress,  
Without vain brags, it were true charity:  
But to relieve our fainting bodies wants,  
And grieve our souls with quips, and bitter braids,  
Is good turns overturned: no thanks we owe  
To any, whatsoever helps us so.  War. 
Neither himself, nor any that he keeps,  
Ever upbraided me, since I came last.  Don. 
O God have mercy on thee, silly ass.  
Doth he not say to every guest that comes;  
This same is Warman, that was once my steward?  War. 
And what of that?  Pri. 
be't not as much to say;  
Why, here he stands that once did me betray.  Don. 
Did he not bring a troup to grace himself,  
Like Captives waiting on a conquerors chair,  
And calling of them out, by one and one,  
Presented them, like fairings, to the king?  Pri. 
O, I: there was a rare invention:  
A plague upon the fool.  
I hate him worse for that than all the rest.  War. 
Why should you hate him? why should you or you  
Envy this noble Lord, thus as you do?  Don. 
Nay rather, why dost thou not join in hate  
With us, that lately livedst like us, in wealthy state?  
Remember this, remember foolish man,  
How thou hast been the Shrieve of Nottingham.  Pri. 
Cry to thy thoughts, let this thought never cease,  
I have been justice of my sovereign's peace,  
Lord of fair livings: men with cap and knee,  
In liveries waited hourly on me.  Don. 
And when thou thinkst, thou hast been such & such,  
Think then what 'tis to be a mate to Much,  
To run when Robin bids, come at his call,  
Be mistress Marian's man.  Pri. 
Nay think withal  War. 
What shall I think? but think upon my need,  
When men fed dogs, and me they would not feed:  
When I despaired through want, and sought to die,  
My piteous master, of his charity,  
Forgave my fault, relieved and saved me:  
This do I think upon, and you should think  
(If you had hope of soul's salvation)  
First Prior, that he is of thy flesh and blood,  
That thou art uncle unto Robin Hood:  
That by extortion thou didst get his lands:  
God, and I know how it came to thy hands:  
Now thou pursuedst him in his misery,  
And how heaven plagued thy heart's extremity:  
Think Doncaster, when, hired by this Prior,  
Thou cam'st to take my master with the Friar,  
And wert thyself ta'en, how he set thee free,  
Gave thee an hundred pound to comfort thee,  
And both bethink ye how but yesterday,  
Wounded and naked in the field you lay,  
How with his own hand he did raise your heads,  
powered balm into your wounds, your bodies fed,  
Watched when ye slept, wept when he saw your woe,  Don. 
Stay Warman, stay: I grant that he did so,  
And you, turned honest, have forsworn the villain?  War. 
even from my soul, I villainy defy.  Pri. 
A blessed hour: a fit time now to die:  Don. 
And you shall, Conscience.  Stab him, he falls. War. 
O forgive me, God,  
And save my master from their bloody hands.  Pri. 
What, hast thou made him sure?  Don 
Its dead sure: he is dead, if that be sure.  Pri. 
Then let us thrust the dagger in his hand,  
And when the next comes, cry he killed himself.  Don. 
That must be now: yonder comes Robin Hood.  
No life in him.  Pri. 
No, no, not any life.  
Three mortal wounds have let in piercing air,  
And at their gaps, his life is clean let out.  Rob. 
Who is it uncle that you so bemoan?  Pri. 
Warman, good nephew, whom sir Doncaster & I  
Found freshly bleeding, as he now doth lie.  
You were scarce gone, when he did stab himself.  Ro. 
O God, he in his own hand holds his own hearts hurt,  
I dreaded too much his distressed look:  
Belike the wretch despaired, and slew himself.  Don. 
Nay, that's most sure, yet he had little reason,  
Considering how well you used him.  Rob. 
Well, I am sorry; but must not be sad,  
Because the King is coming to my bower.  
Help me, I pray thee, to remove his body,  
lest he should come and see him murdered.  
Sometime anon he shall be buried.  Exit. Pri. 
Good, all is good: this is as I desire.  
Now for a face of pure hypocrisy:  
Sweet murder, cloth thee in religious weeds,  
Reign in my bosom, that with help of thee,  
I may effect this Robin's Tragedy.  ¶ Enter Robin, Doncaster. Do. 
Nay, nay, you must not take this thing so heavily.  Rob. 
A Body's loss, sir Doncaster, is much:  
But a soul's too, is more to be bemoaned.  Pri. 
Truly I wonder at your virtuous mind:  
O God to one so kind, who'd be unkind?  
Let go this grief, now must you put on joy,  
And for the many favours I have found,  
So much exceeding all conceit of mine,  
Unto your cheer, I'll add a precious drink,  
Of colour rich, and red, sent me from Rome.  
There's in it Moly, Syrian Balsamum,  
Golds rich elixir: O 'tis precious!  Rob. 
Where is it uncle?  Pri. 
As yesterday,  
Sir Doncaster and I rid on our way,  
Thieves did beset us, bound us as you saw:  
And among other things, did take from me,  
This rich confection: but regardlessly,  
As common drink, they cast, into a bush,  
The bottle, which this day sir Doncaster  
Fetched, and hath left it in the inner lodging:  
I tell you cousin (I do love you well)  
A pint of this ransomed the Sophy's son,  
When he was taken in Natolia.  
I meant indeed to give it my liege Lord,  
In hope to have his favour: but to you  
I put myself, be my good friend,  
And, in your own restoring, me restore.  Rob. 
Uncle I will, you need urge that no more.  
But what's the virtues of this precious drink?  Pri. 
It keeps fresh youth, restores diseased sight,  
Helps nature's weakness, smooths the scars of wounds,  
And cools the entrails with a balmy breath,  
When they by thirst or travel boil with heat.  Rob. 
Uncle I thank you, pray you let me have  
A cup prepared, 'gainst the king comes in,  
To cool his heat: myself will give it him.  Pri. 
And when he drinks, be bold to say he drinks  
A richer draft than that dissolved pearl,  
Which Cleopatra drank to antony.  Rob. 
I have much business; let it be your charge,  
To make this rich draft ready for the King,  
And I will quit it, pray ye do not fail.  Exit. Pri. 
I warrant you, good Nephew.  Don. 
Better, and better still.  
We thought before but to have poisoned him,  
And now shall Robin Hood destroy the king.  
even when the King, the Queen, the Prince, the Lords  
joy in his virtues, this supposed vice  
Will turn, to sharp hate, their exceeding love.  Pri. 
Ha, ha, ha, I cannot choose but laugh,  
To see my cousin cozened in this sort.  
Fail him quoth you? nay hang me if I do.  
But Doncaster art sure the poisons are well mixed?  Don. 
Tut, tut, let me alone for poisoning:  
I have already turned over four, or five,  
That angered me. But tell me Prior,  
Wherefore so deadly dost thou hate thy cousin?  Pri. 
Shall I be plain? Because if he were dead,  
I should be made the Earl of Huntington.  Don. 
A pretty cause: But thou a churchman art.  Pri. 
Cut man, if that would fall,  
I'll have a dispensation, and turn temporal.  
But tell me Doncaster, why dost thou hate him?  Don. 
By the Mass, I cannot tell. O yes, now I ha''t.  
I hate thy cousin, Earl of Huntington,  
Because so many love him as there do,  
And I myself am loved of so few.  
Nay, I have other reasons for my hate;  
He is a fool, and will be reconciled,  
To any foe he hath: he is too mild,  
Too honest for this world, fitter for heaven:  
He will not kill these greedy cormorants,  
Nor strip base peasants of the wealth they have:  
He does abuse a thieves name and an outlaws,  
And is indeed no outlaw, nor no thief,  
He is unworthy of such reverent names.  
Besides, he keeps a paltry whinling girl,  
And will not bed, forsooth, before he bride:  
I'll stand to't, he abuses maidenhead,  
That will not take it, being offered:  
Hinders the common wealth of able men.  
Another thing I hate him for again:  
He says his prayers, fasts eves, gives alms, does good:  
For these and such like crimes, swears Doncaster,  
To work the speedy death of Robin Hood.  Prior 
Well said i'faith. Hark, hark, the king returns:  
To do this deed, my heart like fuel burns.  Exeunt.  

scene. IIII.  ¶ Wind horns. Enter King, Queen, john, Fitzwater, Ely, Chester, Salisbury, Lester, little john, friar Tuck, Scarlet, Scathlock, and Much. Friar Tuck carrying a stag's head, dancing. King. 
Gramercy Friar for thy glee,  
Thou greatly hast contented me,  
What with thy sporting and thy game,  
I swear I highly pleased am.  Fri. 
It was my master's whole desire  
That maiden, yeoman, swain and friar  
Their arts and wits should all apply,  
For pleasure of your Majesty.  Qu. 
Some Richard, look I pray you on the ring,  
That was about the neck of the last stag.  Chest. 
Was his name Scarlet, that shot off his neck?  john. 
Chester, it was this honest fellow Scarlet:  
This is the fellow, and a yeoman bold,  
As ever coursed the swift Heart on the mould.  King. 
friar, here's somewhat graved upon the Ring,  
I pray thee read it. meanwhile list to me;  
This while, most compassing the Friar about the Ring.  
Scarlet and Scathlock, you bold brethren,  
twelve pence a day I give each for his fee,  
And hence forth see ye live like honest men.  Both. 
We will my Liege, else-let us die the death.  Much. 
A boon, a boon, upon my knee,  
Good king Richard, I beg of thee.  
For indeed sir, the troth is, Much is my father, and he is one of your tenants in king's Mill at Wakefield all on a green: O there dwelleth a jolly pinner, at Wakefield all on a green: Now I would have you, if you will do so much for me, to set me forward in the way of marriage to jinny: the mill would not be cast away upon us.  King. 
Much, be thou ever master of that mill,  
I give it thee for thine inheritance.  Much. 
Thanks precious Prince of courtesy.  
I'll to Inny, and tell her of my lands i'faith.  Exit Ioh. 
Here friar, here, here it begins,  Fri. 
read .When Harold Harefoot reigned king,  
About my neck he put this ring.  King. 
In Harold's time, more than a hundred year,  
Hath this ring been about this new slain deer!  
I am sorry now it died: but let the same  
Head, ring and all be sent to Nottingham,  
And in the Castle kept for monuments.  Fitz. 
My Liege, I heard an old tale long ago,  
That Harold being Goodwins son of Kent,  
When he had got fair England's government,  
Hunted for pleasure once within this wood,  
And singled out a fair and stately Stag,  
Which foot to foot, the king in running caught:  
And sure this was the Stag.  King. 
It was no doubt.  Chest. 
But some my Lord affirm,  
That julius Caesar many years before,  
Took such a Stag, and such a Poesy writ.  King. 
It should not be in julius Caesar's time:  
There was no English used in this Land,  
Until the Saxons came, and this is writ  
In Saxon characters.  Ioh. 
Well, 'twas a goodly beast.  ¶ Enter Robin Hood. King. 
How now earl Robert?  Fri, 
A forfeit, a forfeit, my liege Lord.  
My master's laws are on record,  
The Court-roll here your Grace may see.  King. 
I pray thee Friar, read them me.  Fri. 
One shall suffice, and this is he.  
No man that cometh in this wood,  
To feast, or dwell with Robin Hood,  
Shall call him Earl, Lord, Knight, or Squire,  
He no such titles doth desire,  
But Robin Hood, plain Robin Hood,  
That honest yeoman stout and good,  
On pain of forfeiting a mark,  
That must be paid to me his clerk.  
My liege, my liege, this law you broke,  
Almost in the last word you spoke.  
That crime may not acquitted be,  
Till friar Tuck receive his fee.  (Casts him purse. King. 
There's more than twenty marks, mad Friar.  Fri. 
If thus you pay the Clarke his hire,  
Oft may you forfeit, I desire.  
You are a perfect penitent,  
And well you do your wrong repent:  
For this your highness liberal gift,  
I here absolve you without shrift.  King. 
Gramercies Friar. Now Robin Hood,  
Sith Robin Hood it needs must be,  
I was about to ask before,  
If thou didst see the great Stags fall.  Rob. 
I did my Lord, I saw it all.  
But missing this same prating Friar,  
And hearing you so much desire  
To have the lozel's company,  
I went to seek Small honesty.  Fri. 
But you found much, when you found me.  Rob. 
ay, Much my man: but not a jot  
Of honesty in thee, God wot.  Qu. 
Robin, you do abuse the Friar.  Fri. 
Madam, I dare not call him liar,  
He may be bold with me, he knows.  
How now Prince john, how goes, how goes  
This woodman's life with you today?  
My fellow Wodnet you would be.  Ioh. 
I am thy fellow, thou dost see:  
And to be plain, as God me save,  
So well I like thee, merry knave,  
That I thy company must have:  
Nay, and I will.  Fri. 
Nay, and you shall.  Rob. 
My Lord, you need not fear at all,  
But you shall have his company,  
He will be bold I warrant you.  King. 
Know you where ere a spring is nigh?  
fain would I drink, I am right dry.  Rob. 
I have a drink within my bower,  
Of pleasing taste, and sovereign power:  
My reverend uncle gives it me,  
To give unto your Majesty.  King. 
I would be loath indeed, being in heat,  
To drink cold water. Let us to thy bower.  Ro. 
Run friar before, & bid my uncle be in readiness.  Fr. 
Gone with a trice, on such good business.  Exeunt omnes.  

scene. V.  ¶ Enter Marian, with a white apron. Mar. 
What Much? What jinny? Much? I say.  Much. 
What's the matter mistress?  Mar. 
I pray thee see, the fueller  
Suffer the cook to want no wood.  
Good Lord, where is this idle girl?  
Why jinny?  
Within. I come forsooth.  Mar. 
I pray thee bring the flowers forth.  Much. 
I'll go send her mistress, and help the cooks, if they have any need.  Exit Much. Mar. 
Dispatch good Much. What Iin I say?  ¶ Enter linny. Much. 
Hie ye, hie ye: she calls for life.  Mar. 
Indeed, indeed, you do me wrong,  
To let me cry, and call so long.  Iin. 
Forsooth, I strawed the dining bowers.  
And smoothed the walks with herbs & flowers,  
The yeomen's tables I have spread,  
Dressed salts, laid trenchers, set on bread:  
Nay all is well, I warrant you.  Mar. 
You are not well I promise you,  
Your foresleeves are not pinned (fie, fie)  
And all your headgear stands awry.  
Give me the flowers: Go in for shame,  
And quickly see you mend the same.  Exit linny. Marian strewing flowers. Enter sir Doncaster, Prior. Don. 
How busy mistress Marian is?  
She thinks this is her day of bliss.  Pri. 
But it shall be the woefull'st day  
That ever chanced her, if I may.  Mar. 
Why are you two thus in the air?  
Your wounds are green,  
Good coz have care.  Pri. 
Thanks for your kindness, gentle maid.  
My cousin Robert us hath prayed,  
To help him in this business.  ¶ Enter friar. Fri. 
Sir Doncaster, sir Doncaster?  Don. 
Holla.  Fri. 
I pray you, did you see the Prior?  Pri. 
Why, here I am. What wouldst thou Friar.  Fri. 
The king is heated in the chase,  
And posteth hitherward apace.  
He told my master he was dry,  
And he desires ye, presently  
To send the drink whereof ye spoke. horns blow.  Pri. 
Come, it is here; haste let us make  Exeunt Prior, and Friar. ¶ Enter King, john, Queen, Scarlet, Scathlock, Ely, Fitz. water, Salisbury, Chester. Marian kneels down. Mar. 
Most gracious Sovereign, welcome once again:  
Welcome to you, and all your princely train.  King. 
Thanks lovely hostess: we are homely guests.  
Where's Robin Hood? He promised me some drink.  Mar. 
Your hand maid. Robin will not then be long.  
The Friar indeed came running to his uncle,  
Who with sir Doncaster were here with me,  
And altogether went for such a drink.  Kin. 
Well, in a better time it could not come,  
For I am very hot and passing dry.  ¶ Enter Robin Hood, a cup, a towel, leading Doncaster: Tuck, and Much pulling the Prior. Rob. 
Traitor, I'll draw thee out before the king.  Fri. 
Come murderous Prior.  Much. 
Come ye dogs face.  Ki 
Why how now Robin? where's the drink you bring?  Rob. 
Lay hold on these.  
Far be it, I should bring your Majesty,  
The drink these two prepared for your taste.  King. 
Why Robin Hood, be brief and answer me:  
I am amazed at thy troubled looks.  Rob. 
Long will not my ill looks amaze your Grace.  
I shortly look never to look again.  Mar. 
Never to look? What will it still be night?  
If thou look never, day can never be.  
What ails my Robin? Wherefore dost thou faint?  Rob. 
Because I cannot stand: yet now I can.  
Thanks to my king, and thanks to Marian.  King. 
Robin be brief, and tell us what hath chanced?  Rob. 
I must be brief, for I am sure of death,  
Before a long tale can be half way told.  Fitz. 
Of death, my son: bright sun of all my joy?  
Death cannot have the power of virtuous life.  Rob. 
Not of the virtues, but the life it can.  King. 
What dost thou speak of death? how shouldst thou die?  Rob. 
By poison, and the prior's treachery.  Qu. 
Why, take this sovereign powder at my hands,  
Take it and live in spite of poisons power.  Don. 
ay, set him forward Powders quoth ye! nah,  
I am a fool then, if a little dust,  
The shaving of a horn, a Bezars stone,  
Or any Antidote have power to stay  
The execution of my hearts resolve.  
Tut, tut, you labour lovely Queen, in vain,  
And on a thankless groom your toil bestow.  
Now hath your foe revenged you of your foe:  
Robin shall die, if all the world said no.  Mar. 
How the Wolf howls! Fly like a tender Rid  
Into thy shepherds bosom. Shield me love.  
Canst thou not Robin? Where shall I be hid?  
O God, these Ravens will seize upon thy Dove.  Rob. 
They cannot hurt thee, pray thee do not fear,  
Base curs will couch, the Lion being near.  Qu. 
How works my powder?  Rob. 
Very well, fair Queen.  King. 
Dost thou feel any ease?  Rob. 
I shall, I trust, anon:  
Sleep falls upon mine eyes.  
O I must sleep, & they that love me, do not waken me.  Mar. 
Sleep in my lap, and I will sing to thee.  Ioh. 
He should not sleep.  Rob. 
I must, for I must die:  
While I live therefore let me have some rest.  Fitz. 
ay, let him rest, the poison urges sleep.  
When he awakes, there is no hope of life.  Don. 
Of life? now by the little time I have to live,  
He cannot live one hour for your lives.  King. 
Villain what art thou?  Don. 
Why, I am a knight.  Chest. 
Thou wert indeed.  
If it so please your Grace.  
I will describe my knowledge of this wretch.  Kin. 
Do Chester.  Chest. 
This Doncaster, for so the felon hight,  
Was, by the king your father, made a knight,  
And well in arms he did himself behave.  
Many a bitter storm, the wind of rage  
Blasted this Realm with, in those woeful days,  
When the unnatural fights continued,  
Between your kingly father and his sons.  
This cutthroat, knighted in that time of woe,  
Seized on a beauteous Nun, at Barkhamsted,  
As we were marching toward Winchester,  
After proud Lincoln was compelled to yield,  
He took this virgin straying in the field:  
For all the Nuns and every covent fled  
The dangers that attended on our troops.  
For those sad times too oft did testify,  
Wars rage hath no regard of piety.  
She humbly prayed him, for the love of heaven,  
To guide her to her fathers, two miles thence.  
He swore he would, and very well he might:  
For to the camp he was a Forager.  
Upon the way they came into a wood.  
Wherein, in brief, he stripped this tender maid:  
Whose lust, when she in vain had long withstood,  
Being by strength and torments overlaid,  
He did a sacrilegious deed of rape,  
And left her bathed in her own tears and blood.  
When she reviv'd, she to her fathers got,  
And got her father to make just complaint,  
Unto your mother, being then in camp.  Qu. 
Is this the villain Chester, that defiled  
Sir Eustace Stutvile's chaste and beauteous child?  Don. 
I Madam, this is he,  
That made a wench dance naked in a wood:  
And for she did deny what I desired,  
I scourged her for her pride, till her fair skin  
With stripes was chequered like a vintner's grate.  
And what was this? A mighty matter sure.  
I have a thousand more than she defiled,  
And cut the squeaking throats of some of them:  
I grieve I did not hers,  Qu. 
Punish him Richard.  
A fairer virgin never saw the sun.  
A chaster maid was never sworn a Nun.  King. 
How 'scaped the villain punishment, that time?  Fitz. 
I rent his spurs off, and disgraded him.  Chest. 
And then he railed upon the Queen and me.  
Being committed, he his keeper slew,  
And to your father fled, who pardoned him.  Rich. 
God give his soul a pardon for that sin.  Sals. 
O had I heard his name, or seen his face,  
I had defended Robin from this chance.  
Ah villain, shut those gloomy lights of thine.  
remember'st thou a little son of mine,  
Whose nurse at Wilton first thou ravishedst,  
And slew'st two maids that did attend on them?  Don. 
I grant, I dashed the brains out of a brat,  
Thine if he were, I care not: had he been  
The first borne comfort of a royal king,  
And should have yald when Doncaster cried peace,  
I would have done by him as then I did.  King. 
Soon shall the world be rid of such a wretch,  
Let him be hanged alive, in the high way, that joineth to the power.  Don. 
Alive or dead, I reck not how I die.  
You, them, and these, I desperately defy.  Ely. 
Repent, or never look to be absolved,  
But die accursed as thou deservest well.  Don. 
Then give me my desert; curse one by one.  Ely. 
First I accurse thee, and, if thou persist,  
Unto damnation leave thee wretched man.  Don. 
What do I care for your damnation?  
Am I not doomed to death? what more damnation  
Can there ensue your loud and yelling cries?  Pri. 
Yes devil: hear thy fellow spirit speak,  
Who would repent; O fain he would repent.  
After this bodies bitter punishment,  
There is an ever-during endless woe,  
A quenchless fire, an unconsuming pain,  
Which desperate souls and bodies must endure.  Don. 
Can you preach this, yet set me on sir Prior,  
To run into this endless, quenchless fire?  Pri. 
High heavens show mercy to my many ills.  
Never had this been done, but like a fiend,  
Thou temptedst me with ceaseless devilish thoughts.  
Therefore I curse, with bitterness of soul,  
The hour wherein I saw thy baleful eyes.  
My eyes I curse, for looking on those eyes.  
My ears I curse, for hearkening to thy tongue.  
I curse thy tongue for tempting of mine ears.  
Each part I curse, that we call thine or mine:  
Thine for enticing mine, mine following thine.  Don. 
A holy prayer. what Collect have we next?  This time Robin stirs. Fitz. 
My Marian wanteth words, such is her woe:  
But old Fitzwater for his girl and him  
Begs nothing, but world's plague for such a foe.  
Which causeless harmed a virtuous noble man,  
A pitier of his griefs, when he felt grief:  
Therefore bethink thee of thy hateful deed,  
Thou faithless Prior, and thou this ruthless thief.  Pri. 
Will no man curse me, giving so much cause?  
Then Doncaster, ourselves ourselves accurse,  
And let no good betide to thee or me.  All the yeomen, Friar, Much, jinny cry; All. 
Amen, amen: accursed may ye be,  
For murdering Robin, flower of courtesy.  Robin sits up. Rob. 
O ring not such a peal for Robin's death,  
Let sweet forgiveness be my passing bell.  
Art thou there Marian? then fly forth my breath:  
To die with in thy arms contents me well.  Pri. 
Keep in, keep in a little while thy soul,  
Till I have poured my soul forth at thy feet.  Rob. 
I slept not uncle, I your grief did hear,  
Let him forgive your soul that bought it dear:  
Your Body's deed, I in my death forgive,  
And humbly beg the king that you may live.  
Stand to your Clergy uncle, save your life,  
And lead a better life than you have done.  Pri. 
O gentle Nephew, ah my brother's son,  
Thou dying glory of old Huntington,  
Wishest thou life to such a murderous foe?  
I will not live, sith thou must life for go.  
Oh happy Warman, blessed in thy end,  
Now too too late thy truth I do commend.  
O Nephew, Nephew, Doncaster and I  
Murdered poor Warman, for he did deny  
To join with us in this black tragedy.  Rob. 
Alas poor Warman. friar, little john,  
I told ye both where Warman's body lay:  
And of his burial I'll dispose anon.  King. 
Is there no law, Lord Ely, to convict,  
This Prior, that confesseth murders thus?  Ely. 
He is a hallowed man, and must be tried,  
And punished by the censure of the Church.  Pri. 
The Church therein doth err: God doth allow  
No Canon to preserve a murderer's life.  
Richard, king Richard, in thy grandsire's days,  
A law was made, the Clergy sworn thereto,  
That whatsoever Churchman did commit  
Treason, or murder, or false felony,  
Should like a secular be punished.  
Treason we did, for sure we did intend  
King Richard's poisoning, Sovereign of this land.  
Murder we did in working Warman's end,  
And my dear Nephews, by this fatal hand.  
And theft we did, for we have robbed the king,  
The State, the Nobles, Commons, and his men,  
Of a true Peer, firm Pillar, liberal Lord.  
Fitzwater we have robbed of a kind son,  
And Marian's love-joys we have quite undone.  Don. 
Whoppe, what a coil is here with your confession?  Pri. 
I ask but judgement for my foul transgression.  King. 
Thy own mouth hath condemned thee.  
Hence with him.  
Hang this man dead, then see him buried:  
But let the other hang alive in chains.  Don. 
I thank you sir.  Exeunt yeomen, Friar, prisoners, Much. Ioh. 
myself will go, my Lord,  
And see sharp justice done upon these slaves.  Rob. 
O go not hence Prince john: a word or two  
Before I die, I fain would say to you.  King. 
Robin, we see what we are sad to see,  
Death like a champion treading down thy life:  
Yet in thy end somewhat to comfort thee,  
we freely give to thy betrothed wife,  
Beauteous and chaste Matilda, all those lands,  
fallen by thy folly, to the prior's hands,  
And by his fault now forfeited to me:  
Earl Huntington, she shall thy Countess be,  
And thy wight yeomen, they shall wend with me,  
Against the faithless enemies of Christ.  Rob. 
Bring forth a Beer, and cover if with green;  A Beer is brought in. 
That on my deathbed I may here sit down.  Beer brought, he sits. 
At Robin's burial let no black be seen,  
Let no hand give for him a mourning gown:  
For in his death, his king hath given him life,  
By this large gift, given to his maiden wife.  
Chaste maid Matilda, Countess of account,  
Chase, with thy bright eyes, all these clouds of woe,  
From these fair cheeks, I pray thee sweet do so.  
Think it is bootless folly, to complain,  
For that which never can be had again.  
Queen Elianor, you once were Matild's foe:  
Prince john, you long sought her unlawful love:  
Let dying Robin Hood entreat you both,  
To change those passions madam turn your hate,  
To princely love; Prince john, convert your love  
To virtuous passions, chaste and moderate.  
O that your gracious right hands would enfold,  
Matilda's right hand, prisoned in my palm,  
And swear to do what Robin Hood desires.  Qu. 
I swear I will, I will a mother be.  
To fair Matilda's life and chastity.  Ioh. 
When john solicits chaste Matilda's ears,  
With lawless suits, as he hath often done:  
Or offers to the altars of her eyes,  
Lascivious Poems, stuffed with vanities,  
He craves to see but short and sour days,  
His death be like to Robin's he desires,  
His perjured body prove a poisoned prey,  
For cowled Monks, and barefoot begging Friars.  Rob. 
Enough, enough, Fitzwater, take your child:  
My dying frost which no suns heat can thaw,  
Closes the powers of all my outward parts,  
My freezing blood runs back unto my heart,  
Where it assists death, which it would resist:  
Only my love a little hinders death.  
For he beholds her eyes, and cannot smite:  
Then go not yet Matilda, stay a while.  
friar, make speed, and lift my latest will.  Mat. 
O let me look, for ever in thy eyes,  
And lay my warm breath to thy bloodless lips,  
If my sight can restrain deaths tyrannies,  
Or keep lives breath within thy bosom locked.  Rob. 
Away, away,  
Forbear, my love: all this is but delay.  Fitz. 
Come maiden daughter, from my maiden son,  
And give him leave to do what must be done.  Rob. 
First I bequeath my soul to all soul's saver,  
And will my body to be buried,  
At Wakefield, underneath the Abbey wall:  
And in this order make my funeral;  
When I am dead, stretch me upon this Beer,  
My beads and Primer shall my pillow be:  
On this side lay my bow, my good shafts here,  
Upon my breast the cross, and underneath,  
My trusty sword, thus fastened in the sheath.  
Let Warman's body at my feet be laid,  
Poor Warman, that in my defence did die,  
For holy dirges, sing me woodmen's songs,  
As ye to Wakefield walk, with voices shrill:  
This for myself: my goods and plate I give  
Among my yeomen: them I do bestow,  
Upon my Sovereign, Richard. This is all.  
My liege farewell, my love farewell, farewell.  
Farewell fair Queen, Prince john and noble Lords.  
Father Fitzwater heartily adieu,  
Adieu my yeomen tall.  
Matilda close mine eyes.  
friar farewell, farewell to all.  Mat. 
O must my hands with envious death conspire,  
To shut the morning gates of my lives light?  Fitz. 
It is a duty, and thy loves desire,  
I'll help thee girl to close up Robin's sight.  King. 
Laments are bootless, tears cannot restore  
Lost life: Matilda, therefore weep no more.  
And since our mirth is turned into moan,  
Our merry sport, to tragic funeral,  
we will prepare our power for Austria,  
After earl Robert's timeless burial.  
Fall to your mad-songs therefore yeomen bold,  
And deck his hearse with flowers, that loved you dear,  
Dispose his goods, as he hath them disposed.  
Fitzwater and Matilda, bide you here,  
See you the body unto Wakefield borne,  
A little we will bear ye company,  
But all of us at London point to meet:  
Thither Fitzwater, bring earl Robin's men:  
And friar, see you come along with them.  Fri. 
Ah my liege Lord, the Friar faints,  
And hath no words to make complaints:  
But since he must forsake this place,  
He will await, and thanks your Grace.  Song. 
Weep, weep, ye woodmen wail,  
Your hands with sorrow wring:  
Your master Robin Hood lies dead,  
Therefore sigh as you sing.  
Here lies his Primer and his beads,  
His bent bow and his arrows keen,  
His good sword and his holy cross,  
Now cast on flowers fresh and green:  
And as they fall, shed tears and say,  
Wella, wella day, wella, wella day:  
Thus cast ye flowers and sing,  
And on to Wakefield take your way.  Exeunt. Fri. 
Here doth the Friar leave with grievance:  
Robin is dead, that graced his entrance:  
And being dead he craves his audience,  
With this short play, they would have patience.  ¶ Enter Chester. Chest. 
Nay friar, at request of thy kind friend,  
Let not thy Play so soon be at an end.  
Though Robin Hood be dead, his yeomen gone,  
And that thou thinkst there now remains not one,  
To act another Scene or two for thee:  
Yet know full well, to please this company,  
We mean to end Matilda's Tragedy.  Fri. 
Off then, I wish you, with your Kendall green:  
Let not sad grief, in fresh array be seen.  
Matilda's story is replete with tears,  
Wrongs, desolations, ruins, deadly fears.  
In, and attire ye: though I tired be,  
Yet will I tell my mistress Tragedy.  
Apollo's master done I invocate:  
To whom henceforth my deeds I dedicate:  
That of his Godhead, 'bove all God's divine,  
With his rich spirit he would lighten mine:  
That I may sing true lays of trothless deeds,  
Which to conceive, my heart through sorrow bleeds.  
Cheer thee, sad soul, and in a lofty line,  
Thunder out wrong, compassed in cloudy tears.  Enter in black. 
Show to the eyes, fill the beholder's ears,  
With all the lively acts of lustful rage,  
Restrained by modest tears, and chastities entreats,  
And let king john that ill part parsonage,  
By suits, devices, practices and threats:  
And when he sees all serveth to no end,  
Of chaste Matilda let him make an end.  Cho. 
We are all fitted, Friar, shall we begin?  Fri. 
Well art thou suited: would my order would Permit me habit equal to my heart.  Cho. 
If you remember, john did take an oath,  
Never again to seek Matilda's love.  Fri. 
O what is he, that's sworn affections slave,  
That will not violate all laws, all oaths?  
And being mighty, what will he omit,  
To compass his intents, though near so ill?  
You must suppose king Richard now is dead,  
And john (resistless) is fair England's Lord:  
Who striving to forget Matilda's love,  
Takes to his wife the beauteous Isabell,  
Betrothed to Hugh de Briu, Earl of North March:  
And picking quarrels under show of kin,  
Wholly divorces his first Queen away:  
But yet Matilda, still, still troubles him,  
And being in the Court, so oft he courts her,  
That by her noble father, old Fitzwater,  
She is removed from his lust-tempting eye.  
But tides restrained, o'erswell their bounds with rage:  
Her absence adds more fuel to his fire.  
In sleep he sees her, and his waking thoughts,  
Study by day to compass his desire.  Cho. 
friar, since now you speak of visions,  
It was received by tradition,  
From those that were right near unto king john,  
Of three strange visions, that to him appeared:  
And as I guess, I told you what they were.  Fri, 
With them I will begin: draw but that vail,  
And there king john sits sleeping in his chair.  ¶ Draw the curtain, the king sits sleeping, his sword by his side. Enter Austria, before whom cometh Ambition: and bringing him before the chair, king john, in sleep, maketh signs to avoid, and holdeth his own crown fast with both his hands. Fri. 
Ambition, that had ever waited on king john,  
Now brings him Austria, easy to be ta'en,  
Being wholly tamed by Richard's warlike hand,  
And bids him add that Dukedom to his crown:  
But he puts by Ambition, and contemns  
All other kingdoms, but the English crown,  
Which he holds fast, as if he would not lose.  ¶ Enter Constance, leading young Arthur: both offer to take the crown; but with his foot he overturneth them: to them cometh Insurrection, led by the F. K. and L. menacing him, and lead the child again to the chair: but he only layeth hand on his sword, and with his foot overthroweth the child, whom they take up as dead: and Insurrection flying, they mournfully bear in the body. Fr. 
The Lady and the child that did ascend,  
Striving in vain to take the crown from john,  
Were Constance, and her son the Duke of Britain,  
Heir to the elder brother of the king.  
Yet he sleeps on, and with a little spurn,  
The mother and the Prince doth overturn,  
Again when Insurrection them assists,  
stirred by the French king, and the wronged Earl,  
Whose troth-plight wife, king john had ta'en to wife,  
He only claps his hand upon his sword,  
Mocketh their threatenings, and in their attempts,  
The harmless Prince receives recureless death,  
Whom they too late with bootless tears lament.  ¶ Enter Queen, 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 descendeth wringing her hands, and departeth. Enter Matilda, in mourning vail, reading on a book, at whose coming he starteth, and sitteth upright: as she passeth by, he smiles, and folds his arms, as if he did embrace her; being gone, he starts suddenly, and speaks. King. 
Matilda, stay Matilda, do but speak:  
who's there? Entreat Matilda to come back.  Bon. 
Who would you have, my Lord?  Kin. 
Why, my Lord Bonville: I would have Matilda:  
That but even now, passed by toward the door.  Bon. 
I saw her not my Lord.  King. 
Hadst thou a lovers eye,  
A gnat, a moat, a shadow thou wouldst spy:  
Come follow me, she cannot be so far,  
But I shall overtake her: come away.  Exeunt. Fri. 
The last appearance shadowed the fair Queen,  
And her two children, at whose sight king john  
Showed neither sign nor show of passion:  
But when the sun came masked in a cloud,  
And veiled beauty, joined with chastity,  
Appeared in Matilda's lovely shape,  
He starts, he clasps, he wakes, he calls, he seeks  
The shadow of that substance he affects:  
To her he sews, but she his suit rejects:  
To him she sews, but he her suit neglects:  
He sues to be her love, she doth despise:  
She sues to live a maid, which he denies.  
What follows of this wilful will, and shall,  
This no and nay, this quenchless, bootless fire,  
This cold affection, and this hot desire,  
The act itself shall tell, and the poor Friar,  
Your partial favours humbly doth require.  Exit. Sound trumpets, Enter king, Bonville, Salisbury, Loreas. King. 
Now I perceive, this only was a dream:  
Divine Matilda's Angel did appear,  
Decked like a vestal, ready for heavens choir,  
And to this earthly trunk will not come near.  
Well, let her go: I must i'faith, I must,  
And so I will: kings thoughts should be divine:  
So are Matilda's, so henceforth shall mine.  Old Anb. 
So doing, peace shall wait upon your crown,  
And blessing upon 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 himself is king, Lord of his thoughts:  
Which by assertion of Philosophers,  
Is held to be the greatest Empery.  Kin. 
And they said wisely, noble Anbery.  Sals. 
Then will Fitzwater with his gallant troops,  
Again keep triumphs in the English Court.  
Then will Matilda  King. 
Matilda, what of her?  Sals. 
Like a bright star, adorn the lovely train  
Of beauteous Ladies, which attend the Queen,  
Whose only beauty equalleth them all.  Ki. 
Like an old fool, whose dim eyes wanting sight,  
Comparest the sun, to common candle light.  Sals. 
Pardon my liege: I do confess, her fair  
Exceeds all these, as far as day doth night.  King. 
Grossly alluded: night by moon, by stars.  
By wandering fires, exhaled meteors,  
By artificial lights, by eyes of beasts,  
And little glow-worms, glimpsing in the dark,  
Hath somewhere brightness, lightness, and sometime  
Under each Horizon in all parts clear:  
But they at no time, nowhere can be said  
To be less dark, than dungeon darkness is.  
Pitch coloured, Eban faced, blacker than black,  
While her fair eyes gives beauty to bright day.  Sal. 
To hear the Queen thus praised works my content.  Kin. 
The Queen? O, had I such a thought I would repent.  To himself. Sal. 
Further my Lord.  King. 
What shall we further wade?  
I fear I shall be tired with this jade.  Sal. 
The commonwealth will flourish & increase.  K. 
Good Oxford of those things now hold your peace:  
And take the pains to fetching Isabell.  
I have strange tidings sent me out of France,  
Which she will take, I know, in as good part,  
As I accept her praise: fetch her I say.  Exit Salisbury. 
What is the old fool gone? now go 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 think  
As he doth: and I warrant you  
Will not conceal those praises from the Queen,  
Which as he deems you uttered in her praise.  Kin. 
I would have them believe it so indeed:  
But I protest, is no part of my Creed.  Hu. 
i'faith your Grace did Oxford's years great wrong,  
To curtal his good work, that seemed so long:  
He peradventure would have brought in more,  
After his Preface, to rich Plenty's store.  
Perchance he would have show'd dame vanity,  
That in your Court is suffered hourly:  
And bade you punish ruffians with long hair,  
New fashions, and such toys: a special care  
Has that good man: he turns the statute book:  
About his hall and chambers if you look,  
The moral virtues in fair effigy,  
Are lively painted: moral Philosophy  
Has not a sentence, be it great or small,  
But it is painted on his honour's wall.  Enter Queen, Oxford. Kin. 
Peace, peace, he comes, now let's be silent all.  Sals. 
I tell you I was proud of his good words.  Qu. 
God hold them Oxford: for it's often seen,  
A reconciled foe small good affords.  Sals. 
O forbear: trust me, I gauge my Honour he doth hold you dear.  King. 
How cheer you Isabell? The earl, your spouse  
Hath sent defiance to the king your husband,  
And like a tried tall soldier, fled his holds  
In Marchland; Where he knows, despite of him,  
And all the men that he therein can raise,  
King john could have sent dogs enough to tear  
Their ill armed bodies piece-meal, ere his bands  
Should with base blood have stained their noble hands.  
And whether is this worshipful good Earl  
(This first love, old love, new love if you will)  
Gone thinks your ladyship? Forsooth, good man,  
To Normandy; and there he stirs up coals,  
And urgeth strong aid for confederates,  
Who, as he says, are treacherously disposed.  Qu. 
If he do so, the greater is his sin:  
Poor man, I have no interest in him.  King. 
But he hath had in you, as it should seem,  
Else would he not make sonnets of your brow,  
Your eye, your lip, your hand, your thigh,  
A plague upon him: how came he so nigh?  
Nay, now you have the cursed queans counterfeit:  
Through rage you shake, because you cannot rave.  
But answer me; Why should the Bedlam slave  
Entitle a whole Poem to your kiss,  
Calling it cherry, ruby, this and this?  
I tell you, I am jealous of your love,  
Which makes me break into this passion.  
Here's the kind noble Anbery de Vere,  
Knows what I speak is true:  
My Lord, my Lord, I do appeal to you:  
Are these things to be borne?  Sal. 
No by the Rood,  
These love-rhymes are the tokens of small good.  Hu. 
Why my good Lord, was never Poetry,  
Offered unto a Lady's patronage?  Sals. 
Yes, but not taken.  Hu. 
Yes, and taken too.  
Though muddy slaves, whose balladizing rhymes,  
With words unpolished, show their brutish thoughts,  
Naming their malkins in each lustful line:  
Let no celestial beauty look awry,  
When well writ poems, couching her rich praise,  
Are offered to her unstained virtues eye.  
For Poetries high sprighted sons will raise,  
True beauty to all wished eternity:  
Therefore my Lord, your age is much to blame,  
To think a taken Poem Ladies shame.  Sa. 
You see the King, that's better read than you,  
And far more wronged than I, takes it not well.  Ki. 
Yes but I do: I think not Isabell, Lord,  
The worse for any writing of Brunes.  Sa. 
Will you ha' the troth my Lord: I think so too:  
And though I be an old man, by my sword,  
My arm shall justify my constant word.  Qu. 
After a long storm in a troublous sea,  
The Pilot is no gladder of a calm,  
Than Isabell to see the vexed looks  
Of her loved Lord, changed into sweet aspects.  Kin. 
I will not tell thee what a world of foes,  
For thy love (dear love) rise against my life.  To himself. 
(Matilda's love: few swords will fight for thee)  
I will not number up the many woes  
That shall be multiplied, strife upon strife  
Will follow! But to shun ensuing ills,  
I'll take such pledges as shall please me ask.  
Of each proud Baron, dwelling in the Realm.  
Bruise kinsman, and the deputy to March,  
Hath a highminded Lady to his wife,  
An able son for arms, and a less body,  
That is the comfort of his father's life:  
madam, I know you love the Lady well,  
And of her wealth you may be bold to build,  
By sending you four hundred white milk kine,  
And ten like coloured bulls, to serve that heard:  
So fair, that every cow did Iö seem,  
And every bull Europa's ravisher.  
To friend myself with such a subjects truth,  
Thus I command; You, and Earl Salisbury  
Shall, with what speed conveniently ye may.  
high ye to Gilford, there the Lady lies,  
And her sons too, as I am told by spies:  
All that she hath, I know she calleth yours,  
All that she hath, I gladly would call mine,  
If she abuse ye: if she use ye well,  
For ever be, what she retains, her own:  
Only go by as Queens in progress do,  
And send me word how she receiveth you.  Qu. 
Well, I avouch she will, before I go,  
Far be it, john should prove Lord bruises foe.  
Come noble Oxford, I long to be at Gilford.  Sals. 
In such a business, Madam, so do I.  Exeunt. King. 
Go on, good stales, now Gilford is mine own.  
Hubert, I charge you take an hundred horse,  
And follow unto Gilford Castle gates,  
The Queen, pretend, you come to tend upon,  
Sent carefully from us: when you are in,  
Boldly demand the Lady for her sons,  
For pledges of her husband's faith and hers:  
Whom when ye have, upon the Castle seize,  
And keep it to our use until we come:  
meanwhile let me alone with Hugh your son,  
To work a wonder, if no prodigy:  
But, whatsoe'er, it shall attempted be.  Hub. 
even that which to your Majesty  
May seem contentful, thereto I agree.  King. 
Go then to Gilford, and a victor be.  Exit Hub. 
Mowbray, our mask? are you and Chester ready?  Mow. 
We will before your Grace, I warrant you.  King. 
How thinkst of it, Mowbray?  Hu. 
As on a mask; but for our torchbearers,  
Hell cannot rake so mad a crew as I.  King. 
Faith, who is chief?  Hu. 
Will Brand, my Lord.  
But then your Grace must curb his cruelty:  
The reign once got, he's apt for villainy.  Kin. 
I know the villain is both rough and grim:  
But as a tie-dog I will muzzle him.  
I'll bring him up to fawn upon my friends,  
And worry dead my foes. But to our mask.  
I mean this night to revel at the feast,  
Where fair Matilda graceth every guest:  
And if my hidden courtesy she grace,  
Old Bainard's Castle good Fitzwater's place,  
john will make rich, with royal England's wealth:  
But if she do vot: not those scattered bands,  
Dropping from Austria, and the Holy land,  
That boast so much of glorious victories,  
Shall stop the inundations of those woes,  
That like a deluge I will bring on them:  
I know the crew is there, banish all fears:  
If wronged, they shall be ours, if welcome, theirs.  Exeunt ¶ Enter Fitzwater and his son Bruse, and call forth his daughter. Fitz. 
Why how now votary? still at your book?  
Ever in mourning weeds? For shame, for shame,  
With better entertainment cheer our friends.  
Now by the blessed cross you are much too blame,  
To cross our mirth thus; you are much too blame I say.  
Good Lord, hath never woe enough of well adam!  
Indeed, indeed,  
Some sorrow fits: but this is more than need.  Mat. 
Good father pardon me,  
You saw I sat the supper and the banquet,  
You know I cannot dance, discourse I shun:  
By reason that my wit, but small before,  
Comes far behind the ripe wits of our age.  Young B. 
You'll be too ripe for marriage,  
If you delay, by day, and day, thus long,  
There is the noble Wigmore, lord of the March,  
That lies on Wye, Lug, and the Severn streams,  
His son is like the suns sires Ganymede,  
And for your love, hath sent a Lord to plead:  
His absence, I did purpose to excuse:  ¶ Enter Lester, Richmond. 
But Lester to the man for him that sues.  F. 
My cousin Bruise hath been your Broker, Lester,  
At least hath broke the matter to my girl.  Lest. 
O for a barber at the time of need,  
Or one of these that dresses periwigs,  
To deck my grey head with a youthful hair:  
But I must to't. Matilda, thus it is;  
Say, can ye love me? I am Wigmore's son.  Ma. 
My cousin said, he looked like Ganymede:  
But you, but you.  Ley. 
But I, but I, you say,  
Am rather like old Chremes in a play.  
But that's a nice objection: I am he,  
But by attorney ship made deputy.  Mat. 
He's never like to speed well, all his life,  
That by attorney sues to win a wife:  
But grant you are, whom you seem nothing like,  
Young Wigmore, the heir to this noble Lord:  
He for his son hath yet sent us near a word.  Old. Br. 
If you grant love, when his son doth woo,  
Then in your jointure he'll send, say, and do.  Y. Br. 
And for a doer, cousin take my word,  
Look for a good egg, he was a good bird:  
Cock o' the game i'faith, never fear.  Ma. 
ay, but I fear the match will fall out ill,  
Because he says his son 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)  
been prating 'gainst the name? Go too, go too,  
Do not believe them. Lester, fall to woo.  Ma. 
I must believe my father, and 'tis you,  
That if I ought misdid, reproved me still,  
And chiding said, you're wedded to your will,  Fitz. 
God for thy mercy, have ye catched me there?  
Wigmore is William, woman. Lester, speak,  
Thou art the simplest wooer in the world.  Lest. 
You have put me out, & she hath took me down:  
You with your talk, she with her ready tongue.  
You told me I should find her mild and still,  
And scarce a word come from her in an hour,  
Then did I think, I should have all the talk,  
Unhindered by your willingness to help,  
Unanswered till I had no more to say: And then  Y. B. 
What then? she with a courtly curtsy saying nay.  Ma. 
Your friend's attorney might have gone his way,  
With as great credit, as did that Orator,  
Which handling an Oration, some three hours,  
Ill for the matter, worse than bad for phrase:  
Having said Dixi; looked, and found not one,  
To praise or dispraise his Oration:  
For, wearied with his talk, they all were gone.  F. 
Now by my troth, if any troth I have,  
I amas merry at Matilda's mirth,  
As I was glad to see her first days birth.  
For till this hour, so help me halidom,  
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 ye leave too soon.  Ley. 
Yet she avers  
I stand too long, shall I choose yours or hers?  Mat. 
Either forbear, I pray ye, for a while.  
Welcome Lord Richmond.  Rich. 
What, doth Matilda smile?  
That still like sadness solitary sat:  
Then off with widows weeds, and teach your feet,  
(That have forgot for want of exercise,  
And by the means your sorrow had no mean)  
To tread a measure: for a gallant crew,  
Of courtly maskers landed at the stairs,  
Before whom unentreated, I am come,  
And have prevented, I believe, their page,  
Who with his torch is entered.  Fitz. 
Richmond, thanks:  
If you have aught to say about the maskers,  
Beseech the Gentlemen to enter in:  
For they are welcome guests to old Fitzwater.  Exit Messenger. 
Son, son, I pray you fetch the Ladies in:  
We have been 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 down. Fitz. 
How now Matilda? pray thee cheer thee girl.  Mat. 
I thought it was a lightning before death:  
Too sudden to be certain: good pleasure stay.  Enter Ladies. 
Wilt thou not wanton? churl then go thy way.  After mask. Ri. 
What? changed so soon: so soon fallen to your dumps?  
Cherely: the mask comes in. O God, this veil & look  
Fit not this sport.  Mat. 
I'll leave it.  Lest. 
Nay: for your love, William's sake, fair maiden stay.  Dance: Maskers take each a Lady, john Matilda: but refusing, father; 
This is no courtship daughter, be not nice,  
You both abuse him and disparaged us:  
His fellows had the Ladies they did choose,  
And well you know, here's no more maids than Maud:  
yourself are all our store: I pray you rise,  
Or by my faith, I say you do us wrong.  Mat. 
I will do what you will: lead, lead your dance.  Ki. 
You know me by my speech.  Mat. 
I my Liege, I: O! that temptation's tongue  
Had nowhere to be placed but in your head.  Ki. 
Well, say I have her tongue, had I not need,  
When you have both her eyes: nay all her shape:  
Able to tempt even jove himself to rape.  Ma. 
Good my Lord leave; or I will leave the place.  Dance again: & in the first course Maitlda flings from him: john follows. Fitz. 
Dance out your Galliard: God's dear holybred,  
You're too forgetful: dance, or by my troth,  
You'll move my patience more than I will speak.  She unwilling, john roughly pulls her. 
Nay soft unmannered sir, you are too rough:  
Her joints are weak, your arms are strong & tough:  
If ye come here for sport you welcome be,  
If not, better your room than such bad company.  john threatens him by signs. 
Dost threaten me? then will I see thy face.  Kin. 
And so thou shalt, look on me rebel Lord;  
Thou that wert late a factious ringleader,  
And in the open field gav'st me fierce fight,  
Art thou again gathering another head,  
That with such rudeness thou dost entertain  
The gentle coming of thy Sovereign?  Fitz. 
My dread Lord, hear me, and forgive this fault:  
What I have erst done, long since you forgave:  
If I did lead the Barons in the field,  
The Barons chose me, when they could not choose  
But make some leader, you were so missed.  
When better thoughts entered your royal breast,  
We then obeyed you, as our Sovereign head.  King. 
You did even what you list, and so do still.  
I am the king, but you must have your will:  
The plain troth is, we are not come in sport,  
Though for our coming, this was our best cloak:  
For if we never come, till you do send,  
We must not be your guests while banquets last,  
Contentious brawls you hourly send to us:  
But we may send and send, and you return,  
This Lord is sick, that pained with the gout,  
He rid from home. You think I find not out  
Your close confederacies: yes I do, no doubt.  Lest. 
If there be here a close confederate,  
God's vengeance light upon him with my hate.  K. 
No, you are open Lester, that I know.  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, else will the dastard fly.  Ch. 
My own sword shall maintain my tongues true speech:  
For it is not frequented to such lies,  
As wrangling Lester, and proud Richmond use:  
It cannot set out like a thundering drum,  
Or roaring Canon, stuffed with nought but brags,  
The multitudes of seas died red with blood,  
And famous cities into cinders turned,  
By their two armed arms.  King. 
I Chester.  
And then they show us rags, torn off belike,  
From poor decayed ladies' petticoats:  
For neither bill, nor feathered shot, nor pike  
Made half or any of those rents they have:  
These patched together, fastened unto staves,  
They will not stick to swear, have been advanced  
Against the Sophy soldan, and the Turk,  Le. 
Do not maintain proud Chester, my lives Liege.  
Your words I must put up: his if I bear  
Yes you shall bear them, Bear, and yet not bite:  
We have you muzzled now: remember once  
You braved us with your Bombard boasting words:  
Come briefly, Lester, Richmond, both Fitzwaters, Bruise,  
Deliver up your swords immediately:  
And either yield your bodies to our hands,  
Or give such pledges as we shall accept,  
Unto our Steward Winchester, with speed.  Lest. 
I will not leave my arms, nor break my word  
Except I be provoked: your liegeman I am sworn:  
That oath is pledge enough. If you mislike  Kin. 
Thou hearest me say, I do.  Lest. 
And I reply, that pledge refused, I have no more for you.  Rich. 
And Richmond says as noble Lester saith;  
Already have we plighted fame and faith:  
Which being scorned, returns to us again,  
And by the kings own mouth, we are discharged,  Kin. 
Fitzwater, what say you?  Fitz. 
What pledge desires my Liege?  King. 
I ask your stubborn daughter.  Young Br. 
That were a gage to be engaged.  Fitz. 
Peace thou headstrong boy.  
Pardon me sovereign: all my power is yours:  
My goods you may command, my life you may:  
My children too I know with both their lives,  
Will readily adventure death's worst wrongs,  
To do such service as true subjects should:  
But honourable fame, true chastity  Kin. 
Make no exceptions, yield her up to me,  
Or look for ever for my enmity.  Fitz. 
Nay then Fitzwater tells your Majesty,  
You do him wrong; and well will let you wit,  
He will defend his honour to the death.  King. 
And Bruise, you are no otherwise disposed,  
You will not give your sons to me for pledge.  Br. 
I have but one, being my dat boy,  
Who is at Gilford: for my other son,  Ki. 
He braves me with the rest.  
Well it is night, and there's no sun to swear by,  
But by God's son: and by him I here protest,  
A miserable storm this night to raise,  
That shall not cease, while England giveth rest,  
To such vile traitors: Bruise I'll begin with you:  
I will i'faith, as true as God is true.  Exeunt king, cum suis. Lest. 
Then shall a storm be raised against a storm,  
And tempest be with tempest beaten back.  Fitz. 
But this firm Island like the sea will toss,  
And many goodly buildings go to wrack,  
Many a widow weep her dying son,  
And many a mother to her helpless babes  
Cry out uncomfortably; children peace,  
Your crying unto me is all in vain,  
Dead is my husband, your poor father slain.  Young Br. 
We can not help it uncle.  Ri. 
No, you see entreats & humble suits have now no power:  
But lust and wrath the kingdom doth devour.  Br. 
Me he did menace first, and much I fear  
He will to Gilford, and besiege my wife.  Fitz. 
O, high to save her. Richmond ride with him.  Rich. 
Let us away Bruise, lest we come too late,  
And with us take some score of men well armed.  Exeunt Richmond, Fitz. 
Do: Lester, and myself will keep the city,  
Till we are furnished with an able army.  
Your Nephew, Bruise, shall take an hundred armed men,  
And post to Hartford Castle with your sister:  
Sith wrong will wake us, we will keep such watch,  
As for his life, he shall not hurt us bring.  Exeunt omnes. ¶ Enter Queen, bruises Lady, Hubert, Salisbury. Qu. 
Be comforted good madam, do not fear,  
But give your son as pledge unto the king:  
yourself at Court may keep him company.  Wif. 
I am betrayed, alas I am betrayed,  
And little thought your Highness had been bent,  
So much against me, for my many loves,  
As to prepare an entrance for my foe.  Qu. 
As I shall live in heaven, I did not know  
Of Hubert's coming: but lament not this:  
Your son you say is gone; what fear you then?  Wi. 
O madame, murder, mischief, wrongs of men  
I fear, I fear: what be't I do not fear?  
Sith hope is so far off, despair so near.  Ox. 
Answer me good Hubert, I pray the Hubert do.  
What think you of this matter, may I on your word  
Persuade the woman that all things are well?  Hu. 
You may persuade her, if you can my Lord:  
For I protest I know no other thing,  
But that the king would have him for a pledge of the  
Lord bruises faith.  Sals. 
And reason too. Now by my Honour, Hubert, I protest it is good reason.  
Bruise, I tell you plain,  
Is no sound cloak, to keep john from the rain.  
I will go to her.  Hu. 
Do good simple Earl.  
If not by threats, nor my entreats she yield,  
Thy brain is barren of invention,  
Dried up with care: & never will she yield her son to thee, that having power, want'st wit.  Br. 
Wife, I overhear thee Hubert.  Ox. 
So do I dame Bruise:  
But stir no coals: the man is well beloved,  
And merits more than so.  Bru. W. 
But I will answer.  
Hubert, thou fatal keeper of poor babes,  
That are appointed hostages for john,  
Had I a son here, as I have not one  
(For yesterday I sent him into Wales)  
Thinkst thou I would be so degenerate,  
So far from kind, to give him unto thee?  
I would not I protest: thou knowest my mind.  Ox. 
Lady, you fear more than you need to do,  
Indeed you do, in very deed you do:  
Hubert is wronged about the thing you mean,  
About young Arthur: O, I thought 'twas so:  
Indeed the honest, good, kind gentleman  
Did all he might for safeguard of the child.  Qu. 
Believe me madam Bruise, the man is wronged.  B. W. 
But he wrongs me, to keep my Castle thus,  
Disarming my true servants, arming his.  
Now more of outrage comes, what shall I do?  ¶ Enter the king, Mowbray, Winchester, Chester. King. 
O this is well. Hubert, where's bruises son?  Wi. 
Where thou shalt never see him, john.  K. 
Lady, we shall have talk with you anon.  
Where is he Hubert?  Hu. 
Hid, or fled my Lord: we can by no means get her to confess.  Sa. 
Welcome to Gilford, Oxford's liefest Lord.  K. 
You scarce give welcome, ere I bid you go:  
For you my Lord, the Queen and Winchester,  
Shall march to Harford. Sweet Isabell,  
And if thou love me, play the Amazon.  
Matilda that hath long bewitched mine eye,  
Is as I hear by espials, now in Harford Castle;  
Besiege her there: for now her haughty father  
Ruffians it up and down, and all the brood  
Of viperous traitors whet their poisoned teeth,  
That they may feed on us that foster them.  
Go forward, and go with you victory:  
Which to assure, my powers shall follow you.  Sals. 
Did I not tell you this: then trust me next:  
Nay he is changed, and cares no more for her,  
Than I do madam.  King. 
Be gone I say, be gone:  
Your speed, rich victory attendeth on:  
But your delay  
May give your foes the happy glorious day.  Qu. 
One boon my Liege, and part.  Kin. 
Be brief.  Qu. 
Show that poor Lady pity, I beseech.  Exeunt. Kin. 
I will indeed. Come Lady, let us in.  
You have a son, go in and bring him me,  
And for the queen's sake I will favour ye.  B. W. 
I have no son: come, come: come in and search,  
And if you find him, wretched may I be.  Exit. Ki. 
Chester and Hubert, see you keep good watch.  
Not far off do I hear a warlike sound:  
Bruise on my life: look to't while I go in  
To seek this boy; for needs we must have him.  
Come with us Mowbray.  Exeunt. ¶ Enter Bruse, Richmoud, Soldiers. Rich. 
The Castle gates are shut. what ho? what ho?  
You that are servants to the Lady Bruise,  
Arise, make entrance for your Lord and friends.  Enter, or above, Hugh, Winchester. HU. 
We will make issue ere ye enter here.  
Who have we there, Richmond and Bruise? be't you?  
What, up so soon, are ye so early here?  
In you i'faith the proverb's verified:  
You're early up, and yet are near the near.  Rich. 
The worse our fortune, Bruise let us go hence,  
We have no power to fight, nor make defence.  Ch. 
What Richmond, will you prove a Runaway?  Rich. 
From thee good Winchester: Now the Lord defend.  Bruise. 
we will stay and fight.  Br. 
'tis to no end: we have but twenty men, & they be tired.  
But ere we do retire, tell me Lord Hubert,  
Where are my wife and son?  Hu. 
Your wife is here, your son we cannot find.  Br. 
Let son & wife, high heavens, your comfort find.  Exeunt. ¶ Enter King, Mowbray, Lady Bruse. Chest. 
Bruise hath been here, my Lord.  Ki. 
ay, let him go: we have good pledges: though we see but one,  
The other we are sure will come anon.  Mow. 
I do advise you, for your own discharge,  
Deliver up your son unto the king.  King. 
Nay let her choose. Come hither Mowbray.  The king and Mowbray whisper. HU. 
The king is angry; Lady Bruise advise you.  L. Br. 
What? be advised by thee, to have my loving,  
kind and pretty boy, given to an unkind killer of sweet boys?  Ch. 
madam go too, take counsel of your friends,  
I warrant you the king will use him well.  L. B. 
ay, as he used his Nephew, Arthur Chester:  
God bless my child from being used 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 do the king's commandment.  L. B. 
What will he do! good lord, what will he do!  Mowbray, 
I pray you what be't you will do.  MO. 
Why? fire the Castle.  L. B. 
The Castle Mowbray? tarry, tarry man,  
Hold me not Chester, gentle Mowbray stay:  
Good Hubert let me go.  
To lead a many able men to fight.  
And modest looking maid, I see you too:  
And unfit sight, to view virginity  
Guarded with other soldiers, than good prayers:  
But you will say the king occasions it.  
Say what you will, no king but would take cause?  
Of just offence: yield you young Bruse: your mother is in hold.  
Yield you young maid: your father is in hold.  Ma. 
Will the Queen keep me from the lustful king?  
Then will I yield.  Qu. 
A plague upon this counterfeiting quean,  Mat. 
God's blessed mercy, will you still be mad,  
And wrong a noble virgin with vile speech?  Ox. 
Let me alone: Matilda, maiden fair,  
Thou virgin spouse, true Huntington's just heir,  
Wilt thou come hither? and I do protest,  
The Queen and I, to mitigate this war,  
Will do what thou wouldest have.  Ma. 
I come.  Br. 
You shall not go: sound drums to war.  Ox. 
Alack, alack for woe: well God for us, sith it will needs be so,  Alarum, fight, stay. Ox. 
What stay you for?  Br. 
Matilda's cries do stay us.  Mat. 
Oxford, I come in hope of thy defence.  Br. 
First will I die, ere you shall yield yourself,  
To any coward Lord that serves the King.  Ox. 
Coward proud boy? thou findest me no such beast,  
And thou shalt rue in earnest this rude jest.  Fight again, Matilda taken, led by the hair by two Soldiers. Ox. 
Rude hands, how hale you virtuous honour forth?  
You do not well: away: now by my faith,  
Ye do not well I say.  
Take her, fair Queen, use her as she deserves:  
she's fair, she's noble, chaste, and debonair.  
I must, according to due course of war,  
See that our soldiers scatter not too fare,  
lest what care won, our negligence mray lose.  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 she:  
I am not ravished yet, as Helen was,  
I know not what will come of John's desire,  
That rages like the sea, that burns like fire.  Qu. 
Plain john, proud Joan? I'll tear your painted. face: thus, thus I'll use you.  Enter Oxford. Ma. 
Do, do. what you will.  Ox. 
How goes this gear? ha? foul fall so foul a deed,  
Poor chaste child of Fitzwater dost thou bleed.  
By God's blessed mother this is more than need:  
And more I tell you true than I would bear,  
Were not the danger of the camp so near.  Enter a messenger. Mess. 
My Lord, the foes have gathered head:  
Lord Bruise the father, joineth with the son.  Ox. 
Why here's the matter, we must spend our time,  
To keep your nails from scratching innocence,  
Which should have been bestowed for our defence.  
What shall we now do! help me holy God,  
The foe is come, and we are out of rank.  Skirmish: Queen taken, Matilda rescued. Enter old Bruse wounded, led by his son and Lester. Br. 
Is the field ours:  Young B. 
ay, thanks to noble Lester.  Br. 
Give God thanks, son, be careful to thy mother:  
Commend me to Fitzwater, love thy brother,  
If either arms, or prayers may him recover.  Falls down. Lest. 
How cheers old Bruse?  Br. 
His soul to joy is fled:  
His grief is in my bosom buried.  Lest. 
His life was dearly bought. For my eyes saw  
A shambles of dead men about his feet,  
Sent by his sword unto eternal shade:  
With honour bury him: cease tears good Bruse.  Br. 
Tears help not I confess: yet must I weep.  
soldiers, your help to bear him to my tent.  Exeunt, cum Bruse. Ma. 
Be comforted great Queen: forget my wrongs.  
It was my fortune and no fault of yours.  Qu. 
Is she thus mild? or doth she mock my chance?  Lest. 
Queen Elianor, are you a prisoner?  
See what it is to be a soldier.  
But what foul hand hath harmed Matilda's fair?  
Speak honourable maid: who tore thy hair?  
Did Oxford or the Queen this violence?  Ma. 
Ungentle grooms first took and sore me thus:  
From whom old Oxford, chastising their wrong,  
most kindly brought me to this gentle Queen:  
Who laid her soft hand on my bleeding cheeks,  
Gave kisses to my lips, wept for my woe:  
And was devising how to send me back,  
Even when your last alarum frighted us:  
And by her kindness, fell into your hands.  Lest. 
Which kindness we return. madam, be free.  
soldiers, conduct the Queen whether she please.  Qu. 
Farewell Matilda: if I live, believe,  
I will remember this. O how I grieve,  
That I should wrong so innocent a maid.  
Come Lady, old Fitzwater is not far:  
He'll weep to see these scars, full well I know.  Maid _marian 
Would I were from this woeful world of war:  
Sure I will scape, and to some nunnery go.  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 been in mine,  
Not all earth's power, from my power, should have freed her.  Ox. 
You are a king: and high are PRINCE's thoughts:  
It may be with your sight you could have chased  
An host of armed men: it may be so:  
But we your subjects did the best we could:  
Yet Bruise the father, backing Bruise the son,  
Scattered our troops: brought rescue to Matilda,  
And took your peerless Queen, their prisoner.  K. 
On all the race of Bruises, for this wrong,  
I will have vengeance. Hubert, call in Brand.  Exit Hu. 
My Lord of Oxford, give us leave a while to be alone.  Ox. 
I will my liege: but be you comforted,  
The Queen will be recovered, do not fear.  
As well as ere she was;  K. 
Oxford, for bear I pray.  Ox. 
Yet for the wrong she did unto Matilda, I fear, I fear,  Exit. K. 
The father and the son did rescue her:  
The mother and the son shall rue the deed:  
So it shall be: I am resolved thereon.  
Matilda, my soul's food, those have bereft:  
And these of Body's food I will bereave.  Enter Hubert, Brand. K. 
Will Brand?  Brand. 
Your Majesty.  Make legs. K. 
Less of your curtsy. Hubert, stand aside.  
Post speedily to Windsor: take this ring:  
Bid Blunt deliver bruises wife and child,  
Into your hands: and ask him for the key  
Of the dark tower, o'er the dungeon vault:  
In that, see you shut up the dam and brat.  
Pretend to Blunt that you have left them meat,  
Will serve some sennight: and unto him say,  
It is my will you bring the key away.  
And hear you sir, I charge you on your life,  
You do not leave a bit of bread with them.  Brand. 
I warrant you, let me alone.  Ki. 
Come back again with all the speed you may.  Hugh. 
Some cruel task is pointed for that slave,  
Which he will execute as cruelly.  Kin. 
No ruth, no pity shall have harbour here,  
Till fair Matilda be within these arms,  Enter Oxford with the Queen. Oxf. 
Comfort my Lord, comfort my gracious Lord.  
Your love is come again.  Ki. 
Ah Oxford, where?  Ox. 
Here my dread Sovereign.  Kin. 
Thou liest she is not there.  Ox. 
Under correction you wrong my age.  
Say I beseech you, is not this the Queen?  Kin. 
I cry you mercy Oxford, 'tis indeed.  
Where is Matilda?  Qu. 
Where virtue, chastity, and innocence remain, there is Matilda.  King. 
How comes she, pray, to be so chaste, so fair, so virtuous in your eye?  Qu. 
She freed me from my foes, and never urged  
My great abuse, when she was prisoner.  Kin. 
What did you to her?  Qu. 
Railed upon her first,  
Then tore her hair, and rent her tender cheeks.  K. 
O heaven! was not the day dark at that foul deed?  
Could the sun see, without a red eclipse,  
The purple tears fall from those tyrant wounds!  
Out Aethiop, gipsy, thick lipped Blackamoor:  
Wolf, tigress, worse than either of them both.  Ox. 
Are you advised my Lord?  K. 
Out doting Earl.  
Couldst thou endure to see such violence?  Ox. 
I tell you plain. my Lord, I brooked it not,  
But stayed the tempest.  K. 
Rend my loves cheeks? that matchless Effigy,  
Of wonder-working, nature's chiefest work.  
Tear her rich hair? to which, gold wires,  
Suns rays, and best of best compares  
(In their most pride) have no comparison.  
Abuse her name? Matilda's sacred name?  
O barbarous outrage, rudeness merciless.  Qu. 
I told you Oxford, you mistook the king.  Ox. 
I did indeed: my liege Lord give me leave,  
To leave the Camp.  K. 
Away old fool: and take with thee that trull:  
For if she stay,  Ox. 
Come Lady, come away.  
Tempt not his rage: ruin wrath always brings:  
Lust being lord, there is no trust in kings.  Exit. ¶ Enter Mowbray. Mou. 
To arms king john: Fitzwater's field is pitched,  
About some mile hence, on a champain plain.  
Chester hath drawn our soldiers in array:  
The wings already have begun the fight.  K. 
Thither we will with wings of vengeance fly,  
And win Matilda, or loose victory.  Exeunt. Enter Lady Bruse, and Brand. La. 
Why did my keeper put us in thy hands?  
Wherein have we offended Blunt or thee?  Brand. 
You need not make these words:  
You must remove your lodging: this is all.  
Be not afeard: come come, here is the door.  L. 
O God how dark it is!  Brand 
Go in go in: it's higher up the stairs.  La. 
My trembling heart forbids me to go in.  
O if thou have compassion, tell me true,  
What my poor boy and I must trust unto?  Brand. 
I tell thee true, compassion is my foe:  
Yet have I bad of thee compassion.  
Take in thy child: as I have faith or troth,  
Thou and thy boy shall be but prisoners:  
And I must daily bring you meat and drink.  La. 
Well, thou hast sworn: and God so give thee light,  
As in this dark place thou remember'st us.  
Poor heart, thou laughst, and hast not wit to think,  
Upon the many fears that me afflict.  
I will not in: help us, assist us Blunt.  
We shall be murdered in a dungeon.  Brand. 
Cry without cause? I'll have ye in i'faith.  La. 
O let my boy and I but dine with Blunt,  
And then I will with patience go in.  Br. 
Will ye, or nill ye, zounds, ye must go in,  
And never dine.  La. 
What sayest thou? never dine?  Bra. 
No not with Blunt, I mean. Go in I say:  
Or by this hand, ye get no meat today.  La. 
My child is hungry, When shall he have meat?  Bra. 
Why, and ye would go in, immediately.  La. 
I will go in: but very much I doubt,  
Nor I, nor my poor bay shall ere come out.  Exit He seems to lock a door. Br. 
near while ye live, i'faith: now are they sure.  
Cry till their hearts ache, no man can them hear.  
A miserable death is famishment:  
But what care I? the king commanded me.  Alarum within: excursions. Enter Fitzwater, Bruse. Fitz. 
Now doth fair fortune offer hope of speed:  
But howsoe'er we speed: good cousin Bruise,  
March with three hundred bows & pikes to Windsor,  
Spreading a rumour that the day is ours:  
As ours it shall be, with the help of heaven.  
Blunt loves our part far better than the king's:  
And will, I gauge my life, upon the news,  
Surrender up the Castle to our use.  
By this means shall you help us to a hold,  
howe'er it chance, set free your Lady mother  
That lives in prison there, with your young brother.  Br. 
Away good uncle, to the battle go:  
But that a certain good ensues I know,  
For all the world, I would not leave you so.  Fitz. 
Away, away.  
God send thee Windsor: us this happy day.  Alarum still. Enter Hughbert. Hu. 
You cannot hide yourself Matilda: no disguise  
Will serve the turn: now must you to the king:  
And all these wars will with your presence cease.  
Yield you to him, he soon will yield to peace.  Ma. 
They say thou took'st some pity of a child,  
The king appointing thee to sear his eyes.  
Men do report thee to be just of word,  
And a dear lover of my Lord the king.  
If thou didst that, if thou be one of these:  
Pity Matilda, prostrate at thy feet.  Hugh. 
I saved young Arthur's eyes, and pity thee:  
My word is just, which I have given the king.  
The king I love: and thee I know he loves.  
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 love.  Mat. 
No, no: this fire of lust would be soon laid,  
If once he knew me sworn a holy maid.  Hu. 
Thy tears and love of virtue have the power  
To make me, at an instant, true and false:  
True to distressed beauty and rare chastity:  
False to king john, that holds the sight of thee  
Dearer than England, or earth's Empery.  
Go happy soul, that in so ill an age,  
Hast such fair beauty for thy heritage:  
Yet go not so alone. Dost hear tall soldier?  Call a Soldier. 
I know thee honest: guide this gentle maid,  
To Dunmow Abbey: she is one I know.  
I will excuse thee and content thee well.  
My signet take, that ye may pass unsearched.  Mat. 
Kind Hubert, many prayers, for this good deed,  
Shall on my beads be daily numbered.  ¶ Enter Lester, Richmond, Fitzwater. Lest. 
O treble heat of honour, toil and rage!  
How cheers earl Richmond?  
Fitzwater, speak old man.  
We are now near together; answer me.  Fitz. 
Lester, the more our woe,  
The likelier to be taken by the foe.  Rich. 
O let not such a thought abuse thy age:  
we'll never yield us to the tyrant's rage.  Fitz. 
But if my girl be yielded,  Lest. 
If she be.  Fitz. 
ay, I: there's no man but shall have his time to die.  Lest. 
Now is our hour: which they shall dearly buy.  ¶ Enter king, Hugh, Chester, Mowbray. Rich. 
Lester, we'll stand like three Battalions:  
What says our noble General thereto?  Fitz. 
Why, I say do: while I can, I'll keep my place with you.  King. 
How now my bugbear, will ye now submit?  Lest. 
To death, but not to thee.  Kin. 
Richmond, nor you?  Rich. 
earl Richmond will not yield.  K. 
methinks Fitzwater, you should have more wit.  Fitz. 
If it be wit to live, I have no will:  
And so in this, my will o'errules my wit.  Ki. 
Alarum then, with weapons will  
We scourge your desperate will, and teach ye to have wit.  Fight: drive back the king. a Withdraw. K. 
Of high heroic spirits be they all:  
We will withdraw a little and confer:  
For they are circled round, and cannot scape.  Rich. 
O that we three, who in the suns arise,  
Were (like the three triumvirates of Rome)  
Guides of an host, able to vanquish Rome,  
Are not alone, enclosed with enemies!  Fitz. 
The glory of the world hath no more stay:  
But as it comes, it fleets, and fades away.  Lest. 
Courage, and let us die; they come again:  
It's Lord Hugh Burgh alone, Hubert, what news?  Hu. 
This days fierce slaughter, john, our King, laments:  
And to you three, great leaders of an host,  
That now have not a man at all to lead:  
You worthy captains without companies  Lest. 
Fitzwarer, Richmond; by the blessed Sun,  
Lord Hubert mocks us.  Hu. 
By the Moon I do not, and put the blessed to't.  
It is as good an oath as you have sworn.  
My heart grieves, that so great hearts, as yours be,  
Should put your fortunes on a sort of slaves,  
That bring base fear within them to the field:  
But to the matter. Sith your state is such,  
That without mercy you are sure of death  
(Which I am sure, and well his Highness knows,  
You do not fear at all) yet he gives grant,  
On just conditions you shall save your lives.  Fitz. 
On no condition will I save my life,  
Except Matilda be returned again,  
Unblemished, unabused; and than I yield.  Hugh. 
She now is where she never will return.  Fitz. 
Never? O God! is my Matilda dead?  Hugh. 
Dead to the world: dead to this woe she is.  
She lives at Dunmow, and is vowed a Nun.  Fitz. 
Do not delude me Hubert, gentle son.  Hugh. 
By all the faith and honour of my kin:  
By my unstained allegiance to the king:  
By my own word, that hath reproofless been,  
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 wolves:  
That, scudding as a herd of frighted dear)  
When dust arising like a coal black fog,  
From friend divided friend, joined foe to foe:  
Yet neither those, nor these could either know,  
Till here and there through large wide mouthed wounds  
Proud life, even in the glory of his heat,  
Losing possession, belched forth streams 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 dove, from all her fellows parted.  
Seen, known, and taken: unseen & unknown,  
To any other that did know us both,  
At her entreaties I sent her safely guided,  
To Dunmow Abbey: and the guide returned,  
Assures me she was gladfully received,  
Pitied: and in his sight did take her oath.  Fitz 
Hubert, for this thy honourable deed,  
I and my house will reverence thy name.  Hu. 
Yet, I beseech you, hide it from the king:  
At least that I conveyed her to the place.  Enter King, Mowbray, Chester. Fitz. 
Hubert, I will.  Ki. 
What, stand they still on terms?  Lest. 
On honourable terms, on terms of right.  
Our lives without our liberty we scorn.  King. 
You shall have life and liberty, I swear.  Lest. 
Then Lester bows his knee to his liege Lord,  
And humbly begs his Highness to beware  
Of wronging innocence, as he hath done.  Rich. 
The like Richmond desires; & yields his sword.  Kin. 
I do embrace ye both, and hold myself  
Richer by a whole Realm, in having you.  Fitz. 
Much is my wrong: yet I submit with these,  
Begging free leave, to live a private life.  King. 
Old brands of malice in thy bosom rest.  
Thou shalt have leave to leave me, never doubt.  
Fitzwater, see thou ship thee straight for France,  
And never set thy foot on English shore,  
Till I repeal thee. Go, go hence in peace.  Lest. 
Why doth your Highness wrong Fitzwater thus?  King. 
I right his wrong; he's weary of the land.  Rich. 
Not of the land, but of a public life.  Kin. 
Content ye Lords: in such quick times as these,  
We must not keep a drone among our bees.  Fitz. 
I am as glad to go, as you to send:  
Yet I beseech this favour of your Grace,  
That I may see Matilda ere I part.  Ki. 
Matilda? See Matilda, if thou canst  
Before Sun set; stay not another day.  
The Abbey walls, that shroud my happy child,  
Appear within her hapless father's sight.  
Farewell my Sovereign. Lester, Richmond, Lords:  
Farewell to all: grief gives no way to words.  King. 
Fitzwater stay! Lords, give us leave a while.  
Hubert, go you before unto the Abbess,  
And signify our coming; let her bring  (Exit Hubert.) 
Matilda to her father. Come old man;  
Be not too froward, and we shall be friends.  
About this girl our mortal wars began:  
And if thou wilt, here all our quarrel ends.  Fitz. 
Reserve my honour, and my daughter's fame,  
And no poor subject that your Grace commands,  
Shall willinger submit, obey, and serve.  K. 
Do then but this; Persuade thy beauteous child,  
To leave the nunnery and return to Court:  
And I protest from hence forth to for swear  
All such conceits of lust as I have borne.  Fitz. 
I will, my Lord, do all that I may do:  
But give me leave, in this, to doubt of you.  K. 
This small thing grant, and ask me any thing:  
Or else die in exile, loathed of the King.  Fitz. 
You shall perceive I will do what I may.  Enter, on the wall, Abbess, Matilda. Hu. 
Matilda is afraid to leave the house:  
But lo, on yonder battlement she stands:  
But in no case will come within your hands.  K. 
What? will my Lady Abbess wars with us:  
Speak Lady: wherefore shut you up your gates?  Ab. 
Have we not reason, when an host of men,  
Hunt and pursue religious chastity?  
King john, bethink thee what thou tak'st in hand,  
On pain of interdiction of thy Land.  
Murderers and felons may have sanctuary:  
And shall not honourable maids distressed,  
Religious virgins, holy Nuns professed,  
Have that small privilege: Now out upon she, out?  
Holy Saint Catherine shield my virginity:  
I never stood in such extremity.  Hu. 
My Lord, the Abbess lies, I warrant you:  
For I have heard, there is a Monk of Bury,  
That once a weak comes thither to make merry.  Kin. 
Content thee Hubert, that same monk and she,  
And the worst come, my instruments shall be.  
Good Lady Abbess, fear no violence:  
There's not one here shall offer you offence.  Fitz. 
Daughter, all this while tears my speech have stayed.  
My Lord the King: Lords all draw near I pray:  
And hear a poor man's parting from his child.  
Matilda, still my unstained honour's joy,  
Fair Ornament of old Fitzwater's coat,  
Borne to rich fortunes, did not this ill age  
Bereave thee of thy birthrights heritage.  
Thou seest our Sovereign, Lord of both our lives,  
A long besieger of thy chastity,  
Hath scattered all our forces, slain our friends,  
Razed our Castles, left us near a house  
Wherein to hide us from his wrathful eye:  
Yet God provides; France is appointed me:  
And thou find'st house-room in this nunnery.  
Here if the king should dote, as he hath done,  
It's sacrilege to tempt a holy Nun:  
But I have hope he will not: yet my fear  
So drowns my hope, as I am forced to stay,  
And leave abruptly, what I more would say.  Mat. 
O go not yet, my grieved hearts comforter,  
I am as valiant to resist desire,  
As ever thou wert worthy in the field.  
john may attempt▪ but if Matilda yield,  
O then.  Fitz. 
I then Matilda, thou dost lose  
The former glory of thy chaste resolves.  
These seven years hast thou bid a martyr's pains,  
Resisting in thyself lust-growing fire:  
For being mortal, sure thou hadst desire.  
And five sad winters have their full course run,  
Since thou didst bury noble Huntington.  
In these years, many months, and many days,  
Have been consumed, thy virtues to consume:  
Gifts have been heralds, Panders did presume  
To tempt thy chaste ears, with their unchaste tongues.  
All in effect, working to no effect.  
For I was still the watchman of thy tower,  
The keeper of foul worms, from my fair flower:  
But now, no more, no more Fitzwater may  
Defend his poor Lamb, from the lions prey:  
Thy order and thy holy prayers may.  
To help thee, thou hast privilege by law:  
Therefore be resolute, and nobly die,  
Abhor base lust, defend thy chastity.  K. 
Dispatch Fitzwater, hinder not thy child:  
Many preferments do on her await.  Fitz. 
I girl, I know thou shalt be offered wealth  
(Which is a shrewd enticement in sad want)  
Great honours to lift up thy low estate,  
And glorious titles to eternize thee.  
All these do but gild over ugly shame:  
Such wealth, my child, foreruns releaseless need:  
Such honour ever proves dishonourate.  
For titles, none comes near a virtuous name:  
O keep it ever, as thou hast done yet.  
And though these dark times should forget thy praise,  
An age will come, that shall eternize it.  
Bid me farewell, and speak it in a word.  Ma. 
Farewell dear father.  Fitz. 
Oh farewell sweet child.  
My Liege farewell: Lester, Richmond, Hubert,  
Chester, and Mowbray: friends and foes farewell.  
Matilda, see thou keep thy spotless fame,  
And live eternised; else die soon with shame.  Exit. Na 
Amen, amen father, adieu, adieu:  
Grief dwells with me, sweet comfort follow you.  Ab. 
Come daughter come: this is a woeful sight,  
When good endeavours are oppressed by might.  Exeunt from above, Abbess, Matilda. K. 
Ah Hubert, seest thou not the sun go down,  
Cloudy and dark? Matilda, stay one word.  
She shakes her head, and scornfully says nay.  Rich. 
How cheerest thou Lester?  Lest. 
Mad man, at my state:  
That cannot raise true honour ruinate.  Enter Messenger. King. 
I will not be disdained: I vow to see  
Quick vengeance on this girl, for scorning me.  Mess. 
Young Bruse, my Lord, hath gotten Windsor castle,  
Slain Blunt your Constable, and those that kept it:  
And finding in a tower his mother dead,  
With his young brother starved and famished:  
That every one may see the rueful sight,  
In the thick wall he a wide window makes:  
And as he found them, so he lets them be  
A spectacle to every comer by,  
That heaven and earth, your tyrant shame may see.  
All people cursing, crying fie upon  
The tyrant merciless, inhuman john.  Ki. 
Chester, and Mowbray, march away to Windsor:  
Suppress that traitor Bruise. What if his dam,  
In wilful fury, would receive no meat,  
Nor suffer her young child any to eat,  
Is it our fault? Haste ye with speed away,  
And we will follow: go, be gone I pray.  Exit. Ch. Mow. Hu. 
O black and woeful deed! O piteous thing,  
When slaves attend the fierce thoughts of a king.  Lest. 
My Lord, shall we go too?  Kin. 
Lester and Richmond, I: I pray ye do.  Lest. 
Get I my Bear & ragged staff once more  
Raised in the field, for these wrongs some shall roar.  Exit RIchmond, Lester. K. 
Fetch in the Monk of Bury, that I talked off,  Exit Hubert, for the Monk. 
And bid Will Brand, my instrument of death,  
Come likewise in. Convert, to raging hate,  Monk, Hugh, Brand, enter. 
My long resisted love. Welcome good Monk.  Mon. 
Thanks to my Liege.  K. 
Thou hast been long in suit,  
To be installed Abbot of your house:  
And in your favour many friends have stirred.  
Now is the hour that you shall be preferred,  
Upon condition, and the matter small.  
Short shrift to make, good honest Confessor,  
I love a fair Nun, now in Dunmow Abbey,  
The Abbess loves you, and you pleasure her.  
Now if, between you two, this pretty Lady  
Could be persuaded to affect a king,  
Your suit is granted; and on Dunmowe Abbey,  
I will bestow a hundred marks a year.  Mon. 
A holy Nun, a young Nun, and a Lady—  
Dear ware my Lord; yet bid you well as may be:  
Strike hands; a bargain, she shall be your own:  
Or if she will not  Ki. 
Nay, if she do refuse,  
I'll send a deathsman with you, this is he:  
If she be wilful, leave her to his hands:  
And on her own head be her hasted end,  Mon. 
The matter shall be done.  K. 
Sirrah, what poisons have you ready?  Brand. 
Store, store.  K. 
Await on the monk then, and ere we take horse,  
I'll give you such instructions as you need.  
Hubert, prepare to Windsor with our host.  Exit King, Monk. Hu. 
Your tyrannies have lost my love almost:  
And yet I cannot choose but love eternally  
This wanton king, replete with cruelty▪  
O how are all his princely virtues stained,  
With lust abhorred, and lascivious heat!  
Which kindling first to fire, now in a flame,  
Shows to the whole world clearly his foul shame.  
To quench this flame, full many a tide of tears,  
Like overflowing full seas, have been spent:  
And many a dry land drunk with human blood,  
Yet nothing helps his passions violent:  
Rather they add oil to his raging fire,  
Heat to his heat, desire to his desire,  
Somewhat I fear, is now a managing.  
For that prodigious bloody stigmatic,  
Is never called unto his kingly sight,  
But like a Comet he portendeth still  
Some innovation, or some monstrous act,  
Cruel, unkindly, horrid, full of hate:  
As that vile deed at Windsor, done of late▪  
Gentle Matilda somewhat I mistrust:  
Yet thee I need not fear, such is his love;  
Again, the place doth give thee warrantise:  
Yet I remember when his Highness said,  
The lustful monk of Bury should him aid:  
I so it is; if she have any ill,  
Through the lewd shaveling will her shame be wrought.  
If it so chance, Matilda's guiltless wrong  
Will with the loss of many a life be bought.  
But Hubert will be still his dread Lords friend,  
However he deserves, his master serve:  
Though he neglect, him will not I neglect:  
Whoever fails him, I will john affect.  
For though king's fault in many a foul offence,  
Subjects must sue, not mend with violence.  Exit. Enter Oxford, Queen. Ox. 
Now by my faith, you are too blame madam:  
Ever tormenting ever vexing you?  
Cease off these fretting humours, pray ye do.  
Grief will not mend it, nought can pleasure you,  
But patient suffering: nor by your grace's leave,  
Have you such cause to make this hue and cry  
After a husband; you have not in good sooth.  
Yearly a child? this payment is not bad.  
Content fair Queen, and do not think it strange,  
That kings do sometimes seek delight in change:  
For now and then, I tell you, poor men range.  
Sit down a little, I will make you smile.  
Though I be now like to the snowy Alps,  
I was as hot as Aetna in my youth:  
All fire i'faith, true heart of oak, right steel,  
A ruffian Lady: often for my sport,  
I to a lodge of mine did make resort,  
To view my dear I said; dear God can tell,  
It was my keeper's wife, whom I loved well.  
My Countess (God be with her) was a shrew,  
As women be, your Majesty doth know:  
And some odd pickthank put it in her head,  
All was not well: but such a life I led,  
And the poor keeper, and his smoothed fac't wife,  
That will I, nil I, there she might not bide:  
But for the people I did well provide:  
And by God's mother, for my Lady's spite,  
I tricked her in her kind, I served her right.  
Were she at London, I the country kept;  
Come thither, I at London would sojourn:  
Came she to court, from court I straight way stepped:  
Return, I to the court would back return.  
So this way, that way, every way she went,  
I still was retrograde, seld opposite:  
Till at the last, by mildness and submission,  
We met, kissed, joined, and here left all suspicion.  Qu. 
Now out upon you Vere, I would have thought,  
The world had not contained a chaster man.  Ox. 
Now, by my fay, I will be sworn, I am.  
In all I tell you, I confess no ill,  
But that I curbed a froward woman's will:  
Yet had my keeper's wife been of my mind,  
There had been cause some fault with us to find:  
But I protest, her no's and nays were such,  
That for my life she ever kept go much.  Qu. 
You would take nay: but our king john says no:  
No nay, no answer will suffice his turn:  
He, for he cannot tempt true chastity,  
Fills all the Land with hostile cruelty.  
Is it not shame, he that should punish sin,  
Defend the righteous, help the innocent,  
Carves with his sword, the purpose of his will,  
Upon the guarders of the virtuous,  
And hunts admired spotless maidenhead,  
With all the darts of desolation,  
Because she scorneth to be dissolute.  
Me, that he leaves, I do not murmur at:  
That he loves her, doth no whit me perplex,  
If she did love him, or myself did hate:  
But this alone is it that me doth vex.  
He leaves me that loves him, and her pursues,  
That loathe him and loves me: how can I choose,  
But sadly grieve, and mourn in my green youth?  
When nor of her, nor me he taketh ruth.  Ox. 
Ha dove, good Queen, for gods good love, ha done.  
This raging humour will no doubt be stayed.  
Virtuous Matilda is professed a Nun:  
Within a mile, at Dunmow lives the maid:  
God will not suffer any thing so vile:  
He will not sure, that he should her defile.  Qu. 
Nor Church, nor chapel, Abbey, nunnery,  
Are privileged from his intemperance.  
But leave we him, and let us, I entreat,  
Go visit fair Matilda: much I am  
In debt unto the maid  Ox. 
You are indeed.  
You wronged her, when with blows you made her bleed.  
But if you please to visit her, fair dame,  
Our coach is ready: we will soon be there.  Qu. 
Thanks Oxford; and with us I mean to bear  
The beauteous garland, sent me out of Spain:  
Which I will offer in the Abbey chapel:  
As witness of Matilda's chastity:  
Whom while I live, I ever vow to love,  
In recompense of rash and causeless wrong.  Enter Brand solus, with cup, bottle of poison. Brand. 
Good, by this hand: exceeding, passing good.  
The dog no sooner drank it, but, yugh, yugh quoth he:  
So grins me with his teeth: lies down, and dies.  
Yughst quoth I? by gog's blood go thy ways:  
Of all thy line and generation,  
Was never dog so worshipped as thou art,  
For ere thou didst, thou wert an officer:  
I lie not, by these nails, a squire's place:  
For the vile cur became a cOUNTESS taster.  
So died the dog. Now in our next account  
The Countess comes, let's see a Countess & a Nun▪  
Why so? why so?  
What would she have the whole world quite undone?  
we'll meet her for that trick. What, not a king?  
hang's too good for her; I am but a plain knave,  
And yet should any of these no forsooths,  
These pray aways, these trip and goes, these tits.  
Deny me: now by these:  
A plague upon this bottle and this cup:  
I cannot act mine oath: but to't again.  
By these ten ends of flesh and blood, I swear:  
First with this hand, wound thus about her hair,  
And with this dagger lustily lambacked:  
I would i'faith, ay, by my villainy,  
I would: but here, but here she comes,  
Led by two doctors in sweet lechery:  
If they speed, with my poison I go by;  
If not, have at you maid: then step in I.  Enter Matilda, between the Monk and the Nun. Mon. 
And as I said, fair maid, you have done well,  
In your distress, to seek this holy place:  
But tell me truly, how do you expel  
The rage of lust-arising heat in you?  Ma. 
By prayer, by fasting, by considering  
The shame of ill, and meed of doing well.  Ab. 
But daughter, daughter, tell me in my eat,  
Have 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, thouart matched i'faith.  Ab. 
You do confess the king hath tempted you,  
And thinking now and then on gifts and state,  
A glowing heat hath proudly puffed you up:  
But thanks to God, his Grace hath done you good.  Mon. 
Who, the king's Grace?  Ma. 
No: God's Grace, holy monk.  Mo. 
The king's Grace fain would do you good, fair maid.  Me. 
Ill good: he means my fame to violate.  Ab. 
Well, let that be.  Br. 
Good bawd, good mother B.  
How fain you would that that good deed should he!  Ab. 
I was about to say somewhat upon 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 proved in the night.  
Tell me Matilda, had you since you came,  
No dreams, no visions, nothing worth the note?  Ma. 
No, I thank God.  Ab. 
Truly you will, you will;  
Except you take good heed and bless yourself.  
For if I lie but on my back a while,  
I am past recovery, sure of a bad dream.  
You see yond reverend Monk: now God he knows,  
I love him dearer for his holiness:  
And I believe the devil knows it too:  
For the foul fiend comes to me many a night,  
As like the monk, as if he were the man.  
Many a hundred nights, the Nuns have seen:  
Pray, cry, make crosses, do they what they can.  
Once gotten in, then do I fall to work,  
My holy water bucket being near hand,  
I whisper secret spells, and conjure him,  
That the foul fiend hath no more power to stand:  
He down, as I can quickly get him laid,  
I bless myself, and like a holy maid,  
Turn on my right side: where I sleep all night,  
Without more dreams, or troubling of the sprite,  Brand. 
An Abbess by the cross of my good blade,  
An excellent mother to bring up a maid,  
For me I mean, and my good master,  john: 
But never any for an honest man Coughs.  
Now fie upon that word of honesty:  
Passing my throat, 'thad almost choked me:  
'sblood I'll for swear it for this trick.  Mon. 
We trifle time. Fair maid, it's thus in brief;  
This Abbey by your means may have relief:  
An hundred marks a year: answer I pray,  
What will you do herein?  Ma. 
even all I may.  Ab. 
It's charitably spoken, my fair child:  
A little thing of yours, a little help  
Will serve the turn, learn but to bear, to bear  
The burden of this world, and it will do.  Bra. 
Well go thy ways: Is this no bawd think you?  Ma. 
Madam, the heavy burden of the world  
Hath long oppressed me.  Ab 
But not priest you right!  
Now shall you bear a burden far more light.  Ma. 
What burden bearing? whereto tends this talk?  Mon. 
To you, to us, this Abbey and King john,  Me. 
O God forefend he should be thought upon.  Mon. 
Lady make short, the king must lie with you.  Ma. 
With me, with me?  First turns to the Monk, then to the Abbess. Ab. 
Sweet never look so strange:  
He shall come closely, nobody shall see.  Ma. 
How can he come but one hath eyes to see?  Mon. 
Your chamber windows shall be shadowed.  Mat. 
But no vail from my conscience shadows me.  Ab. 
And all the Nuns sent quietly to bed.  Ma. 
But they will rise, and, by my blushing red,  
Quickly give guess of my lost maidenhead.  Bra. 
She goes i'faith, by God she is their own.  Mo. 
Be not so nice, the sin is venial:  
Considering you yield for charity,  
And by your fall, the Nunnery shall rise.  Ab. 
Regard good counsel daughter, pray be wise.  Mon. 
Come, here's a stir: wilt do wench? will it do?  Ab. 
Say I, say I, forget the sound of no:  
Or else say no and take it: wilt thou so?  Mat. 
Do you intend thus lewdly as you speak?  Br. 
I by gog's blood do they: & moppet, you were best  
To take their proffers, lest if they forsake you,  
I play the devils part, step in and take you.  Mat. 
Some holy water, help me blessed Nuns.  
Two damned spirits, in religious weeds,  
Attempt to tempt my spotless chastity:  
And a third devil gaping for my soul,  
With horrid starings, ghastly frighteth me.  Ab. 
You may call while you will: but maid list what we say,  
Or be assured this is your dying day.  Draws a Crucifix. Mat. 
In his name that did suffer for my sin,  
And by this blessed sign, I conjure you:  
Depart foul fiends, return from whence ye came:  
Avoid ye fiends, and cease to trouble me.  Brand. 
Zounds, she thinks us devils. Hear you conjuror?  
Except you use that trick, to conjure down  
The standing spirit of my Lord the King,  
That your good mother there, the Abbess uses,  
To conjure down the spirit of the Monk,  
Not all your crosses have the power to bless  
Your body from a sharp and speedy death.  Ma. 
Are ye not fiends, but mortal bodies then?  Feels them all. Brand. 
Maid, maid: catch lower, when you feel young men:  
Blood, I was never taken for the devil till now?  Ma. 
O where shall chastity have true defence,  
When Churchmen lay this siege to innocence?  
Where shall a maid have certain sanctuary,  
When Lady Lust rules all the Nunnery?  
Now fie upon ye both, false seeming Saints,  
incarnate devils, devilish hypocrites.  
A cowled Monk, an aged veiled Nun,  
Become base Panders! and with lustful speech,  
Assay the chaste ears of true maidenhead!  
Now fie upon this age, would I were dead.  Monk. 
Come leave her Lady; she shall have her wish.  Ab. 
Speed her I pray thee; should the baggage live,  
she'll slander all the chaste Nuns in the Land.  Exeunt Monk, Abbess. Bra. 
Well, well, go get you two unto your conjuring:  
Let me alone to lay her on God's ground.  Ma. 
Why dost thou stay?  Bra. 
Why maid, because I must:  
I have 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 sweet aspect, mild looks.  
Art thou not come to kill me from the king?  Brand. 
Yes.  Ma. 
And thou art welcome, even the welcom'st man,  
That ever came unto a woeful maid.  
Be brief goodfellow: I have in the world,  
No goods to give, no will at all to make:  
But Gods will and the kings on me be done.  
A little money kept to give in alms,  
I have about me? deathsman take it all?  
Thou art the last poor almsman I shall see.  
Come, come, dispatch: what weapon will death wear,  
When he assails me: Is it knife, or sword:  
A strangling cord, or sudden flaming fire?  Bran. 
Neither, thou manly maid: look here, look here:  
A cup of poison. Wherefore dost thou smile?  Mat. 
O God, in this the king is merciful.  
My dear loved Huntington by poison died.  
Good fellow, tell the king I thank his Grace,  
And do forgive his causeless cruelty.  
I do forgive thee to; but do advise  
Thou leave this bloody course, and seek to save  
Thy soul immortal, closed in thy breast:  Giues it her. 
Be brief I pray thee: now to King John's health  
A full carouse; and god remember not  
The curse he gave himself at Robin's death,  
Wishing by poison he might end his life,  
If ever he solicited my love.  
Farewell goodfellow, now thy medicine works,  
And with the labour, I am forced to rest.  Bra. 
Zounds she cares not, she makes death a jest.  Ma. 
The guiltless fear not death. Farewell good friend:  
I pray thee be no trouble in my end.  He stands staring and quaking. Enter Oxford, Queen, Abbess, attendants. Ox 
And say you Lady Abbess that there came  
One from the King unto her: what was he?  Ab. 
Yonder he stands, I know not what he is.  Still he stands staring. Q. 
jesus have mercy. Oxford, come not nigh him.  Ox. 
Not nigh him madam? yes: keep you away.  Ab. 
Come in good Queen: I do not mean to stay.  Exit Ab. 
Nor I to stir, before I see the end.  Ox. 
Why starest thou thus? speak fellow, answer me,  
Who art thou?  Bra. 
A bloody villain, and a murderer.  
A hundred have I slain with mine own hands.  
'twas I that starved the Lady Bruise to death,  
And her young son, at Windsor Castle late.  
'tis I have slain Matilda, blessed maid,  
And now will hurry to damnation's mouth,  
Forced by the gnawing worm of conscience.  Runs in. Ox. 
Hold him for God's sake: stay the desperate wretch.  Ma. 
O some good pitying man compassionate▪  
That wretched man, so woeful desperate:  
Save him for God's sake: he hath set me free,  
From much world's woe, much wrong, much misery.  Qu. 
I hear thy tongue, true perfect charity.  
Chaste maid, fair maid look up and speak to me.  Ma. 
whose's here? my gracious sovereign Isabell?  
I will take strength and kneel.  Qu. 
Matilda sit, I'll kneel to thee, Forgive me, gentle girl,  
My most ungentle wrongs.  Ma. 
Fair beauteous Queen,  
I give god thanks, I do not think on wrongs.  Ox. 
How now Fitzwater's child? how dost thou girl?  Ma. 
Well, my good Lord of Oxford: pretty well:  
A little travel more, and I shall rest:  
For I am almost at my journeys end.  
O that my head were raised a little up:  
My drowsy head, whose dim decaying lights,  
Assure me it is almost time to sleep.  Raise her head. 
I thank your highness, I have now some ease.  
Be witness, I beseeth your Majesty,  
That I forgive the King, with all my heart:  
With all the little of my living heart,  
That gives me leave to say, I can forgive:  
And I beseech high heaven he long may live  
A happy King, a king beloved and feared.  
Oxford, for God's sake, to my father write  
The latest commendations of his child:  
And say, Matilda kept his honour's charge,  
Dying a spotless maiden undefiled.  
Bid him be glad, for I am gone to joy:  
I that did turn his weal to bitter woe.  
The king and he will quickly now grow friends,  
And by their friendship much content will grow,  
Sink earth to earth, fade flower, ordained to fade:  
But pass forth soul unto the shrine of peace,  
Beg there atonement may be quickly made.  
Fair Queen, kind Oxford, all good you attend:  
Fly forth my soul, heavens king be there thy friend.  Ox. 
O pity, mourning sight, age pitiless:  
Are these the messages king john doth send!  
Keep in, my tears, for shame, your conduits keep,  
Sad woe beholding eyes: no, will ye not?  
Why, than a God's name weep.  Sit. Qu. 
I cannot weep for wrath: here, here, take in  
The blessed body of this noble maid:  
In milk white clothing let the same be laid,  Exeunt with the body. 
Upon an open bier, that all may see  
King John's unkingly lust and cruelty.  Ox. 
ay, be it so. yourself, if so you please,  
Will I attend upon, and both us wait  
On chaste Matilda's body: which with speed,  
To Windsor Castle we will hence convey:  
There is another spectacle of ruth,  
Old bruises famished Lady and her son.  Qu. 
There is the king besieging of young Bruse,  
His Lords are there: who when they see this sight,  
I know will have small heart for john to fight.  Ox. 
But where's the murderer, ha? is not he stayed?  Ser. 
Born with a violent rage, he climbed a tree,  
And none of us could hinder his intent:  
But getting to the top boughs, fast he tied  
His garters to his neck, and a weak branch,  
Which being unable to sustain his weight,  
Down to the ground he fell, where bones and flesh  
Lie pashed together, in a pool of blood.  Ox. 
Alas for woe: but this is just heavens doom  
On those that live by blood: in blood they die.  
May an example of it, honest friends,  
Do well, take pains, beware of cruelty.  
Come Madam, come, to Windsor let us go:  
And there to bruises grief, add greater woe.  Exeunt. Enter Bruse, upon the walls. Bru. 
Will not my bitter bannings and sad plaints,  
My just and execrable execrations,  
My tears, my prayers, my pity-moving moans  
Prevail, thou glorious bright Lamp of the day,  
To cause thee keep an obit for their souls,  
And dwell one month with the Antipodes?  
Bright sun retire, gild not this vault of death,  
With thy illustrate rays: retire, retire,  
And yield black night thy Empery a while:  
A little while, till as my tears be spent,  
My blood be likewise shed in raining drops,  
By the tempestuous rage of tyrant john.  
Learn of thy love, the morning: she hath wept,  
Shower upon shower, of silver dewy tears.  
High trees, low plants, and pretty little flowers  
Witness her woe: on them her grief appears:  
And as she drips on them, they do not let,  
By drop and drop, their mother earth to wet.  
See these hard stones, how fast small rouelets  
Issue from them, though they seem issueless:  
And wet eyed woe on every thing is viewed:  
Save in thy face that smil'st at my distress.  
O do not drink their tears thus greedily:  
Yet let the morning's mourning garment dwell  
Upon the sad earth. Wilt thou not, thou churl?  
Then surfeit with thy exhalations speedily:  
For all earth's venomous infecting worms  
Have belched their several poisons on the fields,  
Mixing their simples in thy compound draft.  
Well Phoebus well, drink on I say, drink on:  
But when thou dost ungorge thee, grant me this,  
Thou power those poisons on the head of john.  Drum. Enter Chester, Mowbray, Soldiers: Lester, Richmond at another: Soldiers. Bru. 
How now my Lords: were ye last night so pleased  
With the beholding of that property,  
Which john and other murderers have wrought,  
Upon my starved mother and her son:  
That you are come again? Shall I again  
Set open shop, show my dead ware, dear bought,  
Of a relentless merchant that doth trade  
On the red sea, swollen mighty with the blood  
Of noble, virtuous, harmless innocents?  
Whose coal black vessel is of Ebony,  
Their shrouds & tackle (wrought & woven by wrong)  
Stretched with no other gale of wind, but grief:  
Whose sighs with full blasts beateth on her shrouds:  
The Master murder is, the Pilot shame,  
The mariner's rape, theft, and perjury:  
The burden, tyrannous oppression,  
Which hourly he in England doth unlade:  
Say, shall I open shop, and show my wares?  Lest. 
No, good Lord Bruise, we have enough of that.  Drum: Enter king, Hubert, Soldiers. Ki. 
To Windsor welcome, Hubert. Soft: methinks  
Bruise and our Lords are at a parley now?  Br. 
Chester and Mowbray, you are John's sworn friends:  
Will you see more? Speak, answer me my Lords:  
I am no niggard, you shall have your fill.  Both. 
We have too much, and surfeit with the woe.  Br. 
Are you all full? Here comes a ravening kite,  
That both at quick, at dead, at all will smite.  
He shall, he must, ay, and by'r Lady, may  
Command me to give over holy day,  
And set wide open, what you would not see.  Ki. 
Why stand ye Lords, and see this traitor perched,  
Upon our Castles battlements so proud?  
Come down young Bruse, set open the castle gates:  
Unto thy sovereign, let thy knee be bowed,  
And mercy shall be given to thee and thine,  Br. 
O miserable thing:  
Comes mercy from the mouth of john our king?  
Why then belike hell will be pitiful.  
I will not ope the gates, the gate I will:  
The gate where thy shame, and my sorrow fits.  
See my dead mother, and her famished son:  
Open thy tyrant's eyes: for to the world,  
I will lay open thy fell cruelties.  K. 
We heard indeed, thy mother and her son.  
In prison died, by wilful famishment.  Br. 
Sin doubled upon sin. slanderst thou the dead?  
Unwilling willingness it shall appear,  
By then I have produced, as I will do,  
The just presumptions 'gainst your unjust act,  K. 
Assail the castle Lords: Alarum drums:  
And drown this screechowl's cries with your deep sounds.  Lest. 
I tell thee drummer, if thy drum thou smite,  
By heaven, I'll send thy soul to hell's dark night,  
Hence with thy drum: gods passion, get thee hence:  
Be gone I say, move not my patience.  Exit drum. K. 
Are you advised Lester, what you do?  Lest. 
I am advised: for my Sovereign know,  
there's not a Lord here will lift up his arm,  
Against the person of you noble youth,  
Till you have heard the circumstantial truth,  
By good presumptions, touching this foul deed.  
Therefore go on young Bruse, proceed, retell  
The allegation that puts in this doubt,  
Whether thy mother through her wilfulness,  
Famished herself and her sweet son, or no?  Br. 
Unlikely supposition: nature first denies,  
That any mother, when her youngling cries,  
If she have means, is so unnatural  
To let it faint and starve, But we will prove  
She had no means, except this moanful mean,  
This torture of herself. Come forth, come forth,  
Sir William Blunt, whom slander says I slew:  
Come tell the king and Lords what you know true.  King. 
Thou hast betrayed our Castle,  Blunt. 
No: God can tell it was surprised by politic report,  
And affirmation that your Grace was slain.  Rich. 
Good, sir William Blunt:  
Pass briefly to the Lady's famishment.  Bl. 
About some ten days since, there came one Brand,  
Bringing a signet from my Lord the king,  
And this commission signed with his hand,  Lords look, and read the thing. 
Commanding me (as the contents express)  
That I should presently deliver up  
The Lady Bruise and her young son to him.  Mow. 
What time a day was this?  Bl. 
It was, Lord Mowbray, somewhat past eleven:  
For we were even then sitting down to dine.  Lest. 
But did ye dine?  Bl. 
The Lady and her son did not:  
Brand would not stay.  Bru. 
No Lester, no: for here is no such sign  
Of any meat's digesture.  Rich. 
But by the way. Tell us I pray you Blunt,  
While she remained with you, was she distraught  
With grief, or any other passions violent?  Blu. 
She now and then would weep, & often pray,  
For reconcilement twixt the king and Lords.  Chest. 
How to her son did she affected stand?  Blu. 
Affection could not any more affect:  
Nor might a mother show more mother's love:  Mowb. 
How to my Lord the king?  Bl. 
O my Lord God! I never knew a subject love king more:  
She never would blind telling how his Grace  
Saved her young son from soldiers, & from fire:  
How fair he spoke, gave her her son to keep:  
And then, poor Lady, she would kiss her boy,  
Pray for the king so hearty earnestly,  
That in pure zeal, she wept most bitterly.  K. 
I weep for her, and do by heaven protest,  
I honoured bruises wife. howe'er that slave  
Rudely effected what I rashly wild:  
Yet when he came again, and I bethought,  
What bitter penance I had put them to,  
For my conceived displeasure 'gainst old Bruse,  
I had the villain post and bear them meat:  
Which he excused, protesting pity moved him  
To leave wine, bread, and other powdered meat,  
More than they twain could in a fortnight eat.  Blu. 
Indeed, this can I witness with the king,  
Which argues in that point his innocence:  
Brand did bear in a month's provision;  
But locked it like a villain, far from them:  
And locked them in a place where no man's ear  
Might hear their lamentable woeful moves:  
For all the issue both of vent and light,  
Came from a louvre at the tower's top,  
Till now Lord Bruise made open this wide gap.  Br. 
Had I not reason, think you, to make wide  
The window that should let so much woe forth?  
Where sits my mother martyred by herself,  
Hoping to save her child from martyrdom:  
Where stands my brother martyred by himself,  
Because he would not taste his mother's blood.  
For thus I gather this? my mother's teeth and chin  
Are bloody with the savage cookery,  
Which her soft heart, through pity of her son,  
Respectless, made her practice on herself:  
And her right hand, with offering it the child,  
Is with her own pure blood stained and defiled,  
My little brother's lips and chin, alone,  
Are tainted with the blood: but his even teeth,  
Like orient pearl, or snow-white ivory,  
Have not one touch of blood, one little spot:  
Which is an argument the boy would not.  
Once stir his lips, to taste that bloody food,  
Our cruel gentle mother ministered:  
But as it seemed (for see, his pretty  
Palm is bloody too) he cast it on the ground:  
For on this side these blessed relics lie,  
By famine's rage divided from this shrine,  
Sad woeful mother in jerusalem,  
Who when thy son and thou didst faint for food,  
Buried his sweet flesh in thy hungry womb:  
How merciless wert thou, if we compare  
Thy fact and this: For my poor Lady mother  
Did kill herself, to save my dying brother.  
And thou ungentle son of Miriam,  
Why didst thou beg life when thy mother lacked?  
My little brother George did nobly act  
A more courageous part; he would not eat,  
Nor beg to live, it seemed he did not cry:  
Few tears stand on his cheek, smooth is each eye:  
But when he saw my mother bent to die,  
He died with her: O childish valiancy!  Kin. 
Good Bruse have done: my heart can not contain  
The grief it holds, my eyes must shower down rain.  Lest. 
Which showers are even as good,  
As rain in harvest, or a swelling flood  
When neighbouring meadows lack the mower's scythe.  ¶ A march for burial, with drum and fife. Enter Oxford, Matilda borne with Nuns, one carrying a white pendant. These words writ in gold; Amoris, Castitatis, & Honoris honos. The Queen following the Bier, carrying a Garland of flowers: set it in the midst of the Stage. Rich. 
List Lester, hearst thou not a mournful march?  Lest. 
Yes Richmond, and it seemeth old de Vere.  Ox. 
Lords, by your leave, is not our sovereign here?  K. 
Yes good old Awbury.  Ox. 
Ah my gracious Lord,  
That you so much your high state should neglect!  
Ah god in heaven forgive this bloody deed.  
Young Bruse, young Bruse, I weep,  
Thy mother's and thy brother's wrong.  
Yet to afflict thee more, more grief I bring,  Br. 
O Honourable Aubrey de Vere,  
Let sorrow in a sable suit appear:  
Do not misshape her garments, like delight.  
If it be grief, why clothest thou her in white?  Ox. 
I cannot tell thee yet. I must sit down.  
Attend young Bruse, and listen to the Queen:  
she'll not be tongue tied, we shall have a stir  
anon, I fear, would make a man half sick.  Qu. 
Are you here lecher? O intemperate king,  
Wilt thou not see me? come, come, show your face:  
Your grace's graceless, kings, unkingly face.  
What? mute, hands folded, eyes fixed on the earth?  
Whose turn is next now to be murdered?  
The famished Bruises are on yonder side:  
On this another, I will name anon:  
One for whose head this garland I do bear,  
And this fair milk-white spotless pendant too.  
Look up king john, see, yonder sits thy shame:  
Yonder it lies: what, must I tell her name?  
It is Matilda, poisoned by thee.  Ki. 
Matilda: O that foul swift footed slave,  
That kills ere one have time to hid him save.  
Fair gentle girl, ungently made away.  Br. 
My banished uncles daughter, art thou there?  
Then I defy all hope, and swear  Lest. 
Stay Bruise, and listen well what oath to swear.  
Lewis the Dolphin, pitying one estate,  
Is by the Christian king his father, sent  
With aid to help us, and is landed too.  
Lords that will fly the den of cruelty,  
And fight to free yourselves from tyranny,  
Bruise, keep that Castle, to the only use  
Of our elected king, Lewis of France.  Oxf. 
God's passion do not so: king john is here.  
Lords, whisper not with Lester. Lester, fie:  
Stir not again regardless mutiny:  
Speak to them Hugh: I know thou lov'st the king.  
madam, go to them, nay do, for God's sake do:  
Down with your stomach: for if he go down,  
You must down too, and be no longer Queen:  
Advise you, go entreat them speedily.  
My sovereign wherefore sit you sighing there?  
The Lords are all about to follow Lewis:  
Up and entreat them, else they will away.  K, 
Good Oxford let them go. Why should they stay?  Ox. 
What? are you desperate? that must not be.  
Hear me my Lords.  All stand in Counsel. Ki. 
This pendant let me see.  Amoris, Castitatis, & Honoris honos. 
She was indeed of London the honour once,  
When she was loved of virtuous Huntington:  
Of chastity the honour, all her life:  
To impure thoughts she never could be won.  
And she of Honour was the honour too,  
By birth, in life, she honour honoured.  
Bring in two tapers lighted, quick, dispatch.  Lest. 
Remember Bruise, thy charge. Come Lords away.  All, but Oxford and Hugh. 
Away, we will away.  Bring in two white Tapers. Ox. 
Hark Lester but one word, a little stay.  
Help me good Hubert, help me gentle Queen.  Again confer. K. 
How dim these Tapers burn! they give no light.  
Here were two beauteous Lamps, that could have taught  
The Sun to shine by day, the Moon by night:  
But they are dim too: clean extinguished.  
Away with these, sith those fair lights be dead.  Ox. 
And as I say, hark Bruise unto our talk.  
Think you it is for love of England, Lewis comes?  
Nay: France is not so kind: I would it were.  
Advise yourselves, hark, dost thou hear me Bruise?  Br. 
Oxford, I do.  Ox. 
Can noble English hearts bear the French yoke?  
No Lester: Richmond think on Lewis sire,  
That left you, and your king, in Palestine.  Qu. 
And think beside, you know not Lewis nature,  
Who may be as bad as john, or rather worse than he.  Hu. 
And look my Lords upon his silent woe:  
His soul is at the door of death I know.  
See how he seeks to suck, if he could draw,  
Poison from dead Matilda's ashy lips.  
I'll be sworn his very heart strings nips.  
A vengeance on that slave, that cursed Brand,  
I'll kill him if I live, with this right hand.  Ox. 
Thou canst not Hubert, he hath killed himself:  
But to our matter. Lester, pray thee speak.  
Young Bruse, for God's sake let us know thy mind.  Bru. 
I would be loath to be a stranger's slave:  
For England's love, I would no French king have.  Lest. 
Well Oxford, if I be deceived in john again,  
It's long of you, Lord Hubert, and the Queen.  
Yield up the Castle Bruise, we'll once more try  
King John's proceedings. Oxford, tell him so.  Oxford goes to the king, does his duty, and talks with him. Br. 
I will come down: but first farewell dear mother,  Kiss her. 
Farewell poor little George, my pretty brother.  
Now will I shut my shambles in again.  
Farewell, farewell.  
In everlasting bliss your sweet souls dwell.  Ox. 
But you must mend i'faith, in faith you must.  Lest. 
My Lord, once more your subjects do submit,  
Beseeching you to think how things have passed,  
And let some comfort shine on us your friends,  
Through the bright splendour of your virtuous life.  K. 
I thank you all; and Lester I protest,  
I will be better than I yet have been.  Br. 
Of Windsor Castle here the keys I yield.  K. 
Thanks Bruise: forgive me, and I pray thee see  
Thy mother and thy brother buried,  Bruse offers to kiss Matilda, 
In Windsor Castle Church. Do, kiss her cheek:  
Weep thou on that, on this side I will weep.  Q. 
Chaste virgin, thus I crown thee with these flowers.  K. 
Let us go on to Dunmow with this maid:  
Among the hallowed Nuns let her be laid:  
Unto her tomb, a monthly pilgrimage  
Doth king john vow in penance for this wrong.  
Go forward maids: on with Matilda's hearse,  
And on her Tomb see you engrave this verse;  
Within this Marble monument, doth lie  
Matilda martyred, for her chastity,  Exeunt.   

Epilogus.  
Thus is Matilda's story shown in act,  
And rough hewn out by an uncunning hand:  
Being of the most material points compact,  
That with the certainest state of truth do stand.  
FINIS.