LEICESTER

Oh 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 too't. Matilda, thus it is; Say, can you love me? I am Wigmors son. 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 and 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 Nay: for your love, Williams sake, fair maiden stay. This is no courtship daughter, be not nice, You both abuse him and disparage us: His fellows had the Ladies they did choose, And well you know, heres no more maids than Maud: Your self are all our store: I pray you rise, Or by my faith, I say you do us wrong. If there be here a close confederate, Gods vengeance light upon him with my hate. By thy Lords Lord, and mine, proud Rafe of Chester, Thou darest not say so, Wertenberg thou from the king. 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 And I reply, that pledge refused, I have no more for you. Then shall a storm be raised against a storm, And tempest be with tempest beaten back. How cheers old Bruise? 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 Bruise. 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? Which kindness we return. Madame, be free. Soldiers, conduct the Queen whither she please. Oh treble heat of honour, toil and rage! How cheers earl Richmond? Fitzwater, speak old man. We are now near together; answer me. If she be. Now is our hour: which they shall dearly buy. To death, but not to thee Courage, and let us die; they come again: Its Lord Hugh Burgh alone, Hughberr, what news? Fitzwarer, Richmond; by the blessed Sun, Lord Hubert mocks us. On honourable terms, oh terms of right. Our lives without our liberty we scorn. Then Lester bows his knee to his liege Lord, And humbly begs his Highness to beware Of wronging innocence, as he hath done. Why does your Highness wrong Fitzwater thus? Mad man, at my state: That cannot raise true honour ruinate. My Lord, shall we go too? Get I my Bear & ragged staff once more Raised in the field, for these wrongs some shall roar. No, good Lord Bruise, we have enough of that. I tell Thee drummer, if thy drum thou smite, By heaven, I'll send thy soul to hels dark night, Hence with thy drum: gods passion, get thee hence: Be gone I say, move not my patience. I am advised: for my Sovereign know, The is not a Lord here will lift up his arm, Against the person of you noble youth, Till you have herd the circumstantial truth, By good presumptions, touching this foul deed. Therefore go on young Bruise, proceed, re ell The allegation that puts in this doubt, Whither thy mother through her wilfulness, Famished her self and her sweet son, or no? But did ye dine? Which showers are even as good, As rain in harvest, or a swelling flood When neighbouring meadows lack the mowers sith. Yes Richmond, and it seems old de Vere. 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 your selves from tyranny, Bruise, keep that Castle, to the only use Of our elected king, Lewis of France. Reme ̄ ber Bruise, thy charge. Come Lords away. Away, we will away. Well Oxford, if I be deceived in John again, Its long of you, Lord Hubert, and the Queen. Yield up the Castle Bruise, weel once more try King Johns proceedings. Oxford, tell him so. My Lord, once more your subjects do submit, Besceching you to think how things have passed, And let some comfort shine on us your friends, Through the bright splendour of your virtuous life. But I, but I, you say, Am rather Like old Chremes in a play. But thats a nice objection: I am he, But by attorney ship made Deputy. See what a pleasing humour wooers bring. Yet she auerers I stand too long, shall I choose yours or hers? 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 muzzeld now: remember once You braved us with your Bombard boasting words: Come briefly, Lester, Richmo ̄ worser, 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.