A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Viii Part 54

HUB. 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.

MAT. 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.

HUB. I sav'd 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?

MAT. By letting me escape to Dunmow Abbey, Where I will end my life a votary.

HUB. And the king die with doting on thy love?

MAT. No, no; this fire of l.u.s.t would be soon laid, If once he knew me sworn a holy maid.

HUB. Thy tears and love of virtue have the power To make me at an instant true and false: True to distressed beauty and rare chast.i.ty; 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 pa.s.s unsearch'd.

MAT. Kind Hubert, many prayers for this good deed Shall on my beads be daily numbered.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ LEICESTER, RICHMOND, FITZWATER.

LEI. O treble heat of honour, toil, and rage!

How cheers Earl Richmond? Fitzwater, speak, old man.

We are now near together: answer me.

FITZ. Leicester, 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.

LEI. But if my girl be yielded-- If she be!

FITZ. Ay, ay-- There's no man but shall have his time to die.

LEI. Now is our hour, which they shall dearly by.

_Enter_ KING, HUBERT, CHESTER, MOWBRAY.

RICH. Leicester, we'll stand like three battalions: What says our n.o.ble general thereto?

FITZ. Why, I say, do: [And] while I can, I'll keep my place with you.

KING. How now, my bugbear, will you now submit?

LEI. To death, but not to thee.

KING. Richmond, nor you?

RICH. Earl Richmond will not yield.

KING. 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.

KING. Alarum then! with weapons will we scourge Your desperate will, and teach ye to have wit.

[_Fight: drive back the_ KING.

KING. Of high heroic spirits be they all.

We will withdraw a little, and confer, For they are circled round, and cannot 'scape.

[_Withdraw_.

RICH. O that we three who, in the sun's arise Were, like the three Triumviri[335] of Rome, Guides of an host, able to vanquish Rome, Are now alone, enclos'd with enemies!

FITZ. The glory of the world hath no more stay, But as it comes, it fleets, and fades away.

LEI. Courage, and let us die! they come again: It's Lord Hubert alone. Hubert, what news?[336]

_Enter_ HUBERT.

HUB. This day's 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--

LEI. Fitzwater! Richmond! by the blessed sun, Lord Hubert mocks us.

HUB. 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[337] 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 return'd again, Unblemish'd, unabus'd; and then I yield.

HUB. She now is where she never will return.

FITZ. Never? O G.o.d! is my Matilda dead?

HUB. Dead to the world; dead to this woe she is.

She lives at Dunmow, and is vow'd a nun.

FITZ. Do not delude me, Hubert, gentle son.

HUB. By all the faith and honour of my kin, By my unstain'd allegiance to the king.

By my own word, that hath reproveless been, She is at Dunmow.

FITZ. O, how came she there?