JOHN

Mounted in a stand. Six fallow deer have died by her hand. Scathlocke, where Much Scathlocke, no Grace, your fellow & plain John. Then to adorn he h and, we shall have horns good slore. Think thou little Io n, that he must Iinny wed' Chester, it was this honest fellow Scarlet: This is the fellow, and a yeoman bold, As ever coursed the swift Heart on the mould. Why, my Lord Bonuill: I would have Matilda: That but even now, passed by towards the door. Its true my Lord, I know full well there shall. And they said wisely, noble Anbery. The Queen? Oh, had I such a thought I would repent. I would have them believe it so indeed: But I protest, is no partly of my Creed. Peace, peace, he comes, now lets be silent all. I will not tell thee what a world of foes, For thy love (deer love) rise against my life. ( 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 ils, I'll take shuch 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, And able son for arms, and a less bo y, That is the comfort of his father's life: Madame, I know you love the Lady well, And of her wealth you may be bold to built, By sending you four hundred white milch ki e, And ten Like coloured bulls, to serve that herd: So fair, that every cow did Iö seem, And every bull Europa's ravisher. To friend my self with such a subjects truth, Thus I command; You, and Earl Salsbury Shall, with what speed conveniently you may. High you to Gilford, there the Lady lies, And her sons too, as I am told by spies: All that she hath, I know she calls yours, All that she hath, I gladly woe ld 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. I know the villain is both rough and grim: But as a ty-dogge 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 Bainards Castle good Fitzwaters place, John will make rich, with royal England's wealth: But if she do uot: not those scattered bans, 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. And so thou shalt, look on me rebel Lord; Thou that Wertenberg late a factious ringleader, And in the open field gavest me fierce fight, Art thou again gathering another head, That with such rudeness thou dost entertain The gentle coming of thy Sovereign? Thou hearest me say, I do. Fitzwater, what say you? Make no exceptions, yield her up to me, Or look for ever for my enmity. Be brief. I will indeed. Come Lady, let us in. You have a son, go in and bring him me, And for the Queens sake I will favour ye. No ruth, no pity shall have harbour here, Till fair Matilda be within these arms, Thou liest she is not there. I cry you mercy Oxford, 'tis indeed. Where is Matilda? What did you to her? Richmond, nor you? I do embrace you both, and hold my self Richer by a whole Realm, in having you. Content you Lords: in such quick times as these, We must not keep a drone among our bees. 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. Lester and Richmond, I: I pray ye do. Good Brufe have done: my heart can not contain The grief it holds, my eyes must shower down rai . Matilda, stay Matilda, do but speak: Whoes there? Entreat Matilda to come back. 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. 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. Matilda, what of her? Grossly allude : night by moon, by stars. By wandering fires, exhaled meteors, By artificial lights, by eyes of beasts, And little glowworms, glimpsing in the dark, Hath some where brightness, lightness, and sometime Under each Horizon in all parts clear: But they at no time, no where can be said To be less dark, then dungeon darkness is. Pitch coloured, Eban faced, blacker than black, While her fair eyes gives beauty to bright day. What shall we further wade? I fear I shall be tired with this jade. How cheer you Isabel? 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 piecemeal, ere his bans Should with base blood would e stained their noble would ̄ ds. And whither is this worshipful good Earl (This first love, old love, new love if you will) Gone thinks your Ladishippe? Forsooth, good man, To Normandy; and there he stirs up coals, And urges strong aid for confederates, Who, as he says, are treacherously disposed. 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 cheery, 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 born? Go on, good stales, now Gilford is mine own. Hubert, I charge you take and 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 husbands faith and hers: Whom when ye have, upon the Castle seize, And keep it to our use until we come: Mean while let me alone with Hugh your son, To work a wonder, if no prodigy: But, whatsoever, it shall attempted be. Go then to Gilford, and a victor be. Moubray, our mask? are you and Chester ready? How thinkest of it, Mowbray? Faith, who is chief? 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 brauls 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. 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 rends they have: These patched together, fastened unto staves, They will not stick to swear, have been advanced Against the Sophy Sultan, and the Turk, I ask your stubborn daughter. And Bruise, you are no otherwise disposed, You will not give your sons to me for pledge. Oh this is well. Hubert, where Bruises son? Be gone I say, be gone: Your speed, rich victory attends on: But your delay May give your foes the happy glorious day. Nay let her choose. Come hither Mowbray. How comes she, pray, to be so chaste, so fair, so virtuous in your eye? How now my bugbear, will you now submit? You shall have life and liberty, I swear. 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 foore on English shore, Till I repeal thee. Go go hence in peace. I right his wrong; he's weary of the land. Fitzwater stay! Lords, give us leave a while. Hubert, go you before unto the Abbess, And signify our coming; let her bring Matilda to her father. Come old man; Be not too froward, and we shall be friends. About this girl our mortal arres began: And if thou wilt, here all our quarrel ends. I will not be disdained: I owe to see Quick vengeance on this girl, for scorning me. Thou hast betrayed our Castle, Good Oxford of those things now hold your peace: And take the pains to fetchin Isabel. I have strange tidings sent me out of France, Which she will take, I know, in as good partly, As I accept her praise: fetch her I say. What is the old fool gone? now go thy way. What thinkest thou of him Hubert? tell me man. No, you are open Lester, that I know. Lady, we shall have talk with you anon. Where is he Hubert? You scarce give welcome, ere I bid you go: For you my Lord, the Queen and Winchester, Shall march to Harford. Sweet Isabel, 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. Had you her then? had you her in your power? Oh had she been in mine, Not all earth's power, from my power, should have freed her. On all the raze of Bruises, for this wrong, I will have vengeance. Hubert, call in Brand. My Lord of Oxford, give us leave a while to be alone. Oxford, for bear I pray. 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 souls food, those have bereft: And these of bodies food I will bereave. Will Brand? 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, over 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 sevennight: and unto him say, It is my will you bring the key away. And here you sir, I charge you on your life, You do not leave a bit of bred with them. Oh heaven! was not the day dark at that foul deed? Could the sun see, without a read eclipse, The purple tears fallen from those tyrant wounds! Out A thiope, Gypsy, thick lipt Blackamoor: Wolf, Tygresse, worse than either of them both. Out doting Earl. Couldst thou endure to see such violence? Rend my loves cheeks? that matchless Effigy, Of wonder-working, nature's chiefest work. Tear her rich hair? to which, gold wyres, Suns rays, and best of best compares (In their most pride) have no comparison. Abuse her name? Matilda's sacred name? Oh barbarous outrage, rudeness merciless. Away old fool: and take with thee that trull: For if she stay, Thither we will with wings of vengeance fly, And win Matilda, or lose victory. Me thinks Fitzwater, you should have more wit. Of high heroic spirits be they all: We will withdraw a little and confer: For they are circled round, and cannot escape. Do then but this; Persuade thy beauteous child, To leave the Nunry and return to Court: And I protest from hence forth to for swear All such conceits of lust as I have born. This small thing grant, and ask me any thing: Or else die in exile, loathed of the King. What? will my Lady Abbess wars with us: Speak Lady: wherefore shut you up your gates? Dispat h Fitzwater, hinder not thy child: Many preferments do on her await. h Hubert, seest thou not the sun go down, Cloudy and dark? Matilda, stay one word. She shakes her head, and scornfully says nay. Fetch in the Monk of Bury, that I talked off, And bid Will Brand, my instrument of death, Come likewise in. Convert, to raging hate, My long resisted love. Welcome good Monk. Thou hast be 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. Sirrah, what poisons have you ready? Await on the monk then, and ere we take horse, I'll give you such instructions as you need. Hughbert, prepare to Windsor with our host. We herd indeed, thy mother and her son. In prison died, by wilful famishment. Assail the castle Lords: Alarm drums: And drown this scrietchowls cries w to your deep sounds. Are you advised Lester, what you do? I weep for her, and do by heaven protest, I honoured Bruises wife How ere 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 Bruise, I had the villain post and bear them meat: Which he excused, protesting pity moved him To leave wine, bred, and other powdered meat, More than they twain could in a fortnight eat. Yes good old Awbury. How dim these Tapers burn! they give no light. Here were two beauteous Lamps, y 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. I thank you all; and Lester I protest, I will be better than I yet have been. Thanks Bruise: forgive me, and I pray thee see Thy mother and thy brother buried, In Windsor Castle Church. Do, kiss her cheek: Weep thou on that, on this side I will weep. Let us go on to Dunmow with this maid: Among the hallowed Nuns let her be laid: Unto her tomb, a monthly pilgrimage Does 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; Like and old fool, whose dim eyes wanting sighed, Comparest the sun, to common candle light. Yes but I do: I think not Isabel, Lord, The worse for any writing of Brunes. You know me by my speech. 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. He braves me with the rest. Well it is night, and theres no sun to swear by, But by Gods son: and by him I here protest, A miserable storm this night to raise, That shall not cease, while England gives rest, To such vile traitors: Bruise I'll begin with you: I will i'faith, as true as God is true. Chester and Hubert, see you keep good watch. Not far of do I hear a warlike found: Bruise on my life: look too't while I go in To seek this boy; for needs we must have him. Come with us Mowbray. I, let him go: we have good pledges: though we see but one, The other we are sure will come anon. Come back again with all the speed you may. Ah Oxford, where? Alarm then, with weapons will We scourge your desperate will, and teach ye to have wit. What, stand they st ll on terms? 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 sighed. Farewell my Sovereign. Lester, Richmond, Lords Farewell to all: grief gives no way to words. 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. 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 To Windsor welcome, Hubert Soft: me thinks Bruise and our Lords are at a parley now? Why stand you Lords, and see this traitor perched, Upon our Castles battlements so proud? Come down young Bruise, set open the castle gates: Unto thy sovereign, let thy knee be bowed, And mercy shall be given to thee and thine, Matilda: Oh that foul swift foot slave, That kills ere one have time to hid him save. Fair gentle girl, ungently made away. This pendant let me see. 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. Why how now Robin? where y drink you bring? Good Oxford let them go. Why should they stay?