A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Viii Part 56

Bid me farewell, and speak it in a word.

MAT. Farewell, dear father.

FITZ. O, farewell, sweet child.

My liege, farewell: Leicester, Richmond, Hubert, Chester and Mowbray, friends and foes, farewell.

Matilda, see thou keep thy spotless fame, And live eternis'd, else die soon with shame.

[_Exit_.

MAT. Amen, amen: father, adieu, adieu!

Grief dwells with me, sweet comfort follow you!

ABB. Come, daughter, come. This is a woful sight, When good endeavours are oppress'd by might.

[_Exeunt from above_ ABBESS, MATILDA.

KING. 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 cheer'st thou, Leicester?

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

_Enter_ MESSENGER.

KING. I will not be disdain'd. I vow to see Quick vengeance on this girl for scorning me.

MES. Young Bruce, 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 starv'd 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.

KING. Chester and Mowbray, march away to Windsor: Suppress that traitor Bruce. 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; begone, I pray.

[_Exeunt_ CHESTER, MOWBRAY.

HUB. O black and woful deed! O piteous thing, When slaves attend the fierce thoughts of a king.

LEI. My lord, shall we go too?

KING. Leicester and Richmond, ay, I pray ye, do.

LEI. Get I my bear and ragged staff once more Rais'd in the field, for these wrongs some shall roar.

[_Exeunt_ RICHMOND, LEICESTER.

KING. Fetch in the monk of Bury, that I talk'd of, [_Exeunt_ HUBERT _for the_ MONK.

And bid Will Brand, my instrument of death, Come likewise in. Convert to raging hate

_Enter_ MONK, HUBERT, BRAND.

My long-resisted love! welcome, good monk.

MONK. Thanks to my liege.

KING. Thou hast been long in suit To be installed abbot of your house, And in your favour many friends have stirr'd.

Now is the hour that you shall be preferr'd 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 Dunmow Abbey I will bestow a hundred marks a year.

MONK. A holy nun! a young nun! and a lady!

Dear wear, my lord; yet bid you well as may be.

Strike hands; a bargain: she shall be your own, Or if she will not--

KING. Nay, if she do refuse, I'll send a death's man with you; this is he.

If she be wilful, leave her to his hands, And on her own head be her hasted end.

MONK. The matter shall be done.

KING. Sirrah, what poisons have you ready?

BRAND. Store, store.

KING. Wait on the monk, then, and ere we take horse, I'll give you such instructions as you need.

Hubert, repair[343] to Windsor with our host.

[_Exeunt_ KING, MONK, _and_ BRAND.

HUB. 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 stain'd With l.u.s.t 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 pa.s.sions 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 b.l.o.o.d.y stigmatic[344]

Is never call'd 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 l.u.s.tful monk of Bury should him aid.

Ay, 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 lord's friend, However he deserves, his master serve; Though he neglect, him will I not neglect: Whoever fails him, I will John affect; For though kings fault[345] in many a foul offence, Subjects must sue, not mend with violence.

[_Exit_.

SCENE III.

_Enter_ OXFORD, QUEEN.

OX. Now, by my faith, you are to blame, madam, Ever tormenting, ever vexing you: Cease of 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 such 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 G.o.d can tell, It was my keeper's wife whom I lov'd well.