A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Viii Part 51

a.s.sail them, stay not.

SAL. Stay, and a.s.say them first!

I say to you, fair queen, this fact is foul.

Let not provoking words whet dull-edg'd swords, But try if we can blunt sharp blades with words.

Fitzwater's nephew, Bruce, I see thee there, And tell thee it is shame for such a boy To lead a many able men to fight.

And, modest-looking maid, I see you too: An 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 Bruce, your mother is in hold.

Yield you, young maid, your father is in hold.

MAT. Will the queen keep me from the l.u.s.tful king, Then will I yield.

QUEEN. A plague upon this counterfeiting quean.

MAT. G.o.d's blessed mercy! will you still be mad, And wrong a n.o.ble virgin with vile speech?

SAL. 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 wouldst have.

MAT. I come.

BRUCE. You shall not go. Sound, drums, to war!

Alack, alack, for woe!

Well, G.o.d for us! sith it will needs be so.

[_Alarum, fight, stay_.

SAL. What stay you for?

BRUCE. Matilda's cries do stay us.

MAT. Salisbury, I come in hope of thy defence.

BRUCE. First will I die, ere you shall yield yourself To any coward lord that serves the king.

SAL. Coward, proud boy! Thou find'st me no such beast, And thou shalt rue in earnest this rude jest.

[_Fight again_. MATILDA _taken, led by the hair by two Soldiers_.

SAL. 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 n.o.ble, chaste, and debonair.

I must, according to due course of war, See that our soldiers scatter not too far, Lest, what care won, our negligence may lose.

[_Exit_.

QUEEN. Is this the Helen, this the paragon, That makes the English Ilion[329] flame so fast?

MAT. I am not she; you see I am not she: I am not ravish'd yet, as Helen was.

I know not what will come of John's desire, That rages like the sea, that burns like fire.

QUEEN. Plain John, proud Joan! I'll tear your painted face.

Thus, thus I'll use you. [_Scratches her_.

_Enter_ SALISBURY.

MAT. Do, do what you will.

SAL. How goes this gear? ha! foul fall so foul deed![330]

Poor chaste child of Fitzwater, dost thou bleed?

By G.o.d's bless'd 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.

MES. My lord, the foes have gathered head: Lord Bruce, the father, joineth with the son.

SAL. Why, here's the matter: we must spend our time To keep your nails from scratching innocence, Which should have been bestow'd for our defence.

What shall we now do? Help me, holy G.o.d!

The foe is come, and we are out of rank.

[_Skirmish_: QUEEN _taken_, MATILDA _rescued_.

_Enter_ OLD BRUCE _wounded, led by his Son, and_ LEICESTER.

BRUCE. Is the field ours?

YOUNG B. Ay, thanks to n.o.ble Leicester.

BRUCE. Give G.o.d thanks, son: be careful to thy mother; Commend me to Fitzwater; love thy brother, If either arms or prayers may him recover.

LEI. How cheers old Bruce?

YOUNG B. His soul to joy is fled, His grief is in my bosom buried.

LEI. His life was dearly bought; for my eyes saw A shambles of dead men about his feet, Sent by his sword into eternal shade.

With honour bury him. Cease tears, good Bruce.

YOUNG B, Tears help not, I confess, yet must I weep.

Soldiers, your help to bear him to my tent.

[_Exeunt c.u.m_ BRUCE.

_Enter_ QUEEN _and_ MATILDA.

MAT. Be comforted, great queen: forget my wrongs.

It was my fortune, and no fault of yours.

QUEEN. Is she thus mild? or doth she mock my chance?

LEI. Queen Isabel,[331] are you a prisoner?