King Iohn and Matilda a tragedy : as it was acted with great applause by Her Majesties servants at the Cock-pit in Drury-Lane / written by Robert Davenport, Gent.

Author: Davenport, Robert, fl. 1623.1655

King Iohn AND MATILDA, A TRAGEDY. As it was Acted with great Applause by her Majesties Servants at the Cock-pit in Drury-lane.

Written by ROBERT DAVENPORT Gent.

LONDON, Printed for Andrew Pennycuicke, in the Year 1655.

[Page]

The Names of the Persons in the Play, And of the Actors that first Acted it on the Stage, and often before their Majesties.

King John,: M. Bowyer.
Fitzwater,: M. Perkins Whose action gave Grace to the Play.
Old Lord Bruce,: M. Turner.
Young Bruce,: M. Sumner.
Chester,: M. Iackson.
Oxford,: M. Goat.
Leister,: M. Young.
Hubert,: M. Clarke.
Pandolph,: M. Allen.
Brand,: M. Shirelock, who performed excellently well.

Other Lords and Gentlemen, Attendants on the King.

Queen Isabel.
Matilda.
Ladies of honour.
Lady Abbesse.

[Page]

To the knowing Reader.

A Good Reader, helps to make a Book; a bad injuries it: The Author of this, had no mind to be a man in Print; nor tooke he any care for a Sculpture, to illustrate the Frontis-piece by crowning himselfe with Laurel: Neither did he write his owne Encomiums, and (to prejudicate the simple) say his friends forc'd them upon him; they may help to sell the Book, not better the Matter. And since this Tragedy is come to tell its own tale, and to speak for it self, he wil he glad to know it able to ca [...]ry its own commendation; And (being an Infant, newly deliver'd to the world from the wombe of the Press) he hopes the knowing Reader will rather Crown it by his Candor, then kill it in the Cradle.

R. D.

[Page]

To the Right Honourable, Mountague Berty, Earle of Lindsey, Lord Willougbby to Eresby &c.

YOu are no stranger to things of this nature, and therefore the Dedication will not startle you; such there are (my Lord) whose soules are confin'd to their Chinck, and these looke squint-ey'd upon a Dedication, because they feare there is a Spirit in't will separate them: But my Lord, your Noblenesse to learning, and wit raiseth your estimate to so high an accompt among knowing men, thi [...] from thence I have derived this boldnesse, which I hope is pardonable not onely for that your justice calls upon me for a duty I long since owed your Honour, but also in regard the Thing presented is no sleight Piece, but such (my Lord) at I presume will accord with your judgement and likeing: It past the Stage with generall Applause (my selfe being the last that that Acted Matilda in it) and since through the absurdity of times, it hath laine obscured. My Lord, though it doth not appeare in it's ancient and full glory, yet it comes drest; first, with an humble regard to your Honour, and then a confidence of it's naked worth, but both it and my selfe, are willingly subjected unto your Honours sentence, which I hope will not be too heavy, especially upon

My Lord,

Your Honours Honourer, Andrew Pennycuicke.

[Page]King Iohn AND Matilda.

Actus 1. Scoena 1.

Enter King, Queen, and Oxford.

King

THey will not come?

Ox.

They will not.

King

They had been better—

What was their answer?

Ox.

Thus said Fitzwater, father of the faction,

That was Generall for the Barrons against your Majestie:

Tell John,

Ki.

John!

Ox.

That was his Epithite;

(Alledging how you stood at Rome, put from

Your Kingly office.) Tell John, quoth he, (and frown'd)

That here at Baynards Castle, we intend

[Page] A settled stay for private reformations.

Of conceiv'd injuries, which by the peace

The King made with us, were not throughly search'd,

But like green wounds, clos'd with too swift a salve,

(Upon your private ends) are with more danger

Doubts and distracted difficulties again

Broke forth; but having drawn them to a head,

They would send them to you to be ratified,

And then give their attendance.

King.

This is brave;

Who was there else?

Ox.

Richmond, imperious Leister, and old Bruce.

(The second in this revolt,) who sent the same return.

A [...]nest of Rebels; to try the truth of these fine florishes,

You with Lord Mowbray, post unto Guilford,

And being there, (pretending a visite unto Bruces Lady,)

Wind into observation of the Castle so from her,

(The engine upon which these factions move,)

Discover the intent of their disignes.

Queen.

Sure sir, the Lady is noble; but your Majesties

Injunction shall be obey'd.

Exit. Enter Chester.

This not onely advantages

Our meeting with Fitzwaters Daughter,

(O how the thought) startles my blood)

But likewise furthers our resolv'd proceedings:

Chester the news?

Chest.

Conceal your selfe sir,

I have trapt her with a snare.

Agen, then I shall see he [...]—

Exit. Enter Matilda.

Ma.

You told me Chester

That the Queen did earnestly request my attendance:

You said she was here i'th Garden,

But it seems you were mis-inform'd.

Ches.

Excellent innocence how art thou trapt!

I must attend the King; please you walk Madam

But towards the Grove, I was told the Queen and Ladies

Retyred there for shade.

Mat.

I shall,

Ches.

[Page]

And I must vanish

Exit Chest.

Ent. King.

Mat.

Oh heaven, the King!

Thy friend.

Mat.

False Chester!

Fair Matilda,

Mistresse of youth and beauty, sweet as a spring,

And comely as the holy shining Priest

Deckt in his glorious sacerdotall vestment;

Yet heare the passions of a love sick Prince,

And crown thy too too cruell heart with pitty.

Mat.

Yet let fall your too too passionate plea [...]ings,

And crown your royall heart with excellent reason.

Hear me.

Mat.

The Queen will heare you.

Speak but a word that—

Mat.

What?

That may sound like something,

That may but busie my strong labouring heart,

With hope that thou wilt grant, and every morning

I will walk forth and watch the early Lark,

And at her sweetest note I will protest,

Matilda spake a word was like that note.

Mat.

Oh how you tempt: remember pray your vows

To my betroth'd Earl Robert Huntington;

Did you not wish just as the poyson toucht

His manly heart, i [...] ever you again

Laid battery to the fair fort of my unvanquish'd

Vertue, your death might be like his untimely,

And be poyson'd. Oh take heed sir,

Saints stand upon heavens silver battlements,

When Kings make vows, and lay their

Listening ears to Princes Protestations.

So did Matilda swear to live and die a maid,

At which fair Nature like a Snail shrunck back,

As loath to hear from one so fair, so foul

A wound: my vow was vain, made without

Recollection of my reason; and yours, Oh madnesse!

[Page] Maids have sure forsworne such vowes:

For Huntington, he like a heap of summers

Dust into his Grave is swept; and bad vows

Still are better broke then kept.

Mat.

Alas great sir, your Queen you cannot make me;

What is it then instructs your tongue? Oh sir!

In things not right,

Lust is but loves well languag'd hypocrite.

Words shall convert to deeds then; I am the King.

Mat.

Doe but touch me,

And as I graspe steel in my trembling hand,

Offers violence, she drawes a knife.

So sure the King shall see Matilda fall

A sacrifice to vertue.

Cruell Maid,

Crueller then the Kid that eanes her young

On the rough bosome of a ragged flint:

Go get thee to the woods, for thou art wild

As flame, or winter; where so e're thou walk'st

May wild winds chide thee, and the reeling Trees

Like a confus'd fall of many waters

Rail on thy rudeness; may the birds that build

Among the wanton branches, stead of teaching

Notes to their young, sing something like thy niceness:

And lastly, may the Brooks when thou shalt lie

And cast a pair of cruell busie eyes

Upon their subtill slydings, may the water,

The troubled image of my passions war

With the stones, the matter of thy heart, that thou maist learn

Thy hardnesse and my sufferings to discern;

And so whilst I (if it be possible) study to forget you,

May beasts, and bird [...], and brooks, and trees, and wind,

Hear me, and call Matilda too unkind.

Exit.

Mat.

Ile unto Baynards Castle to my father,

Oh she had a violent need of Castles, where a King

Layes such violent seige; but Oh truth,

Thou art (whilst tenant in a noble brest,)

A crown of Christall in an Ivory chest.

Exit.

[Page]

Enter King and Chester.

Shall I be dazled with effeminate darings?

Ches.

With a womans ward, a knife too.

Here I left her.

Ch.

But here she is not now sir.

Oh Chester run, run as thou lov'st my peace,

Feather thy feet with lovers wishes, let but my desires

Dwel in thy eyes, thou'lt find her, were she compast

With a Cimerian mist.

Ch.

I will do my best sir.

Exit.

Thy best; do every thing, do any thing,

Do all things that may find her; whether Love

Leads thy dark Labyrinth; cannot Kings be free

From thy impetuous buffets? I have de [...]'d

A heardned heart, obdurate to thy shafts,

And some times am so, when in the very minute

Calling to mind Matilda's tears, like drops

Continued upon marble, they pierce through,

And I am soft again. Hast found her?

Ent. Chester

Ch.

No sir, she is by this in Baynards Castle,

Where her Father and the Lords—

Command our Barge, wee'l after her like lightning:

We must have pledges Chester for their faiths; if they refuse,

Thunder shall meet with thunder, and each eye

Shall see strange Comets in this troubled skie.

Exeunt.

Enter Fitzwater, old Bruise, young Bruise, Richmond and Leister, as in Baynards Castle.

Fitz.

My noble Lords, and honourable friends,

Not to particularlize (what need plain dealing

Be apparelled in particulars?) to a short supper,

Or a poor pittance rather, ye are all

Heartily welcome, very heartily, I must tell truth still.

O Br.

Brother we thank you.

Eitz.

I would we had my sister your wife, at Guilford with us.

Rich.

Where are the Ladies?

Leis.

[Page]

Comfo [...]ting Matilda, sad return'd from Court.

Y. Bru.

Betraid by Chester, and again escap'd

Like a chaste Dove out of the fowlers Net,

The lustfull King.

Fitz.

Oh John, John, wilt thou never

Leave thy wags tricks? but let it passe, tis best

Because indeed tis past.

Leís.

I wonder how he receiv'd our resolv'd answer.

Y B [...]u.

No matter how, he's like to have no other;

Now by my blood, you vext my very soul

That you s [...]nt any.

O. Bru.

Sonne, have a tamer spirit.

Y Bru.

Yes, and like horses,

Be held by'th nose by frivilous respect,

Whilst he casts Copperis into our sores, and searches

Past honours patience.

Fitz.

Nephew, Nephew, hear me,

Lets bear a little; faith he is the King,

And though at Rome he does stand interdicted,

Yet now and then takes a good start or two

Towards regularity, till the fit comes on him;

And for your neat horse simile observe me,

Richmond and you are young men, we three old,

But not too old to tell truth; the horse that will not

Stand till and endure searching, how e're in summer

With warmth and pasture, he may strike at flies,

And play the wanton in a wealthy meadow,

For all his summer pastime, yet tis said,

Winter will leave him but a lean scal'd jade;

Come, come, y'ar fooles, y'ar fooles.

Leis.

Well let us—bear then.

Y Bru.

[...]et us? Oh my blood!

Besides, our in uries in his breach of promise,

He made by stains and publique grievances,

How in the flames of his adulterate heart

Pursues he my chaste Cousin, by flights gets her

Within his tallon, and but this afternoon,

[Page] (Had not her friendly knife enfranchis'd her)

Even in the face of he [...]ven, in his own Garden

He would have ravish'd her.

O. Bru.

Bro [...]her, we are bound in honour not to bear it.

Leis.

Let him know our griefs, and if—

Fitz.

Well, well, with iss and ands

Mad men leave Rocks, and leap into the Sands;

But something shall be thought on.

Ent. Richmond.

Rich [...]

The King attended

Onely with the Earle of Chester, Oxford, and some

Other Gentlement, is new landed on the Stairs.

Om.

The King!

Y Bru.

Shut the stairs Gate.

Fitz.

Twere better Gate and stairs

Were floating through bridg; we are safe my cholerick cousin,

As in a Sanctuary; tis enough

(A man would think,) to see a great Prince thus,

Cause wee'd not go to him, to come to us,

Ent. King, Oxford, Chester. and other Lords

Indeed, indeed, you speak unkindly.

Behold great Lords,

The Cedars of the Kingdome, how the King

(A shrub) shrincks out of majestie.

And comes to you; here's a fine Conventicle,

Are ye blowing up new sires? and must Fitz [...]waters

(Plain-breasted as his unaffected habite,)

Be Generall again, again be call'd

The Marshall of Heavens Army and the Churches?

Are you Planet st uck [...] you cannot talke.

Fitz.

Your pardon sir,

I led the Barrons, but twas when they could not choose

But choose a leader, and then me they chose;

And why so think ye? they all lov'd your Grace,

And grieve, grieve very heartily, I tell you,

To see you by some state mice so misled:

This state mice that nibble so upon the Lands impaired freedom

That would not so play in the Lyons eare,

But that by tickling him themselves to advantage;

[Page] This troubl'd us, and griev'd the body Politique,

And this we sought to mend; I tell truth John, I,

We are thy friends John, and if ye take from friendship

The liberty of modest admonition,

Ye leave no mark whereby to distinguish it

From the fawning passion of a Dog-base flattery;

If I speak plain, this truth be my desence,

A good mans comsort is his Conscience:

And so much for plain Robin.

Fitzwater, Bruce, Richmond, and stubborn Leister,

This is the last of our admonitions,

Either lay by those Arms, those lawlesse arms,

Which you have listed 'gainst your Lord the King,

And give such pledges as we shall accept

For settling of your loyalties, or here

By the abused sufferings of a King,

And by the unkind scars with which you have

Deform'd the face of England; misery

Shall over take you in a shape shall fright

The Iron heart of faction, and the King

Shall come no more acquainted with compassion,

But call the bloodiest ends a righteous vengeance.

Leis.

I will not leave mine arms,

Nor break my word to you,

Unlesse provok'd, and justly; you have my faith,

If you mislike that pledge—

We do.

Leis.

And I reply that I can spare no nother.

Ches.

D'ce hear sir?

O Bru.

Already we have pawn'd the now scorn'd gage

Of our afflicted honours, which refus'd

Flies back again, and so we stand discharg'd.

Fitz.

King John, King John,

Perform but the seal'd Covenants you are fled from,

The Charter running thus, given by our hand

The seventeenth day of June, and in the year

215 (the whole Realm being sworn to't,)

[Page] And six and twenty Peers and Barrons sworn

To the execution (who if you fail) are perjur'd

Do this, and like a plat of Osier wands

We shall bow any way, and you shall work us

Into what fashion you shall fancy; but

if you be melancholly, love-sick John,

Or Lyon, unyoak'd Heifer, head-strong John,

(As in the matter of the Losse of Normandie,

When Anjou, Brittain, Main, Poictou, and Turwin,

Were deliver'd up to Philip) you'l find your friends

Not facile Willowes, but abrupt brambles,

Whose intricate irregularity

Whilst you shall go about to rectifie,

They'l prick your fingers, and with unkind scratches,

Expose you to a late deplor'd experience:

Come, come, know this, when love in our side sings,

The unkindest wounds are those we take from Kings;

I am plain Robin.

A down right Rebell.

Fitz.

Rebell!

So are ye all.

Om.

Rebells!

Traytors.

Om.

Traytors!

Rebels and Traytors; Chester, Oxford, Gentlemen,

Stand on your guards, there's danger in the room.

O. Bru.

You ate too passionate, perform with us,

You shall walk over us, if not, we stand

Our injur'd Countries Justicers.

Proud boaster.

This night shall raise a storme: Brav'd? with you Bruce

We will begin; and yet he is the Brother

aside

Unto Matilda's Father, but his insolence,

Oh love; a little while let revenge raigne,

This night shall beget passages shall prove

Your King a Lyon (vext) as (pleas'd) a Dove.

Exit

Ox.

Lights for the King; there Gentlemen.

Kings party.

Y. Bru.

[Page]

What will you do? a tempest curl'd his forehead

Into the fashion of an angry Ocean,

Made wild with winds.

Rich.

We must resolve on something.

Ol. Bru.

And suddenly, for in his executions

He is swift as lightning, ayr is not more light.

Leis.

Pandulph the Popes stern Legate, tis divulg'd,

Is againe come over from the Pope, to proffer

The King his readmission into the Church,

And take off his six years interdiction

Upon some propositions yet conceal'd,

And this may busie the King yet.

Y. Bru.

This? the Greyhound

Is not more eager at his flying game,

Then I know King John is in his passions

Gf love or anger.

Ol. Bru.

Why Brother, is this a time to study?

Fitz.

Troth I was thinking of—stay, stay, I hav't,

I was thinking brother Bruce,—now tis gone again,

And farewell it, lets ply our businesse now:

If you mark't, he said he would begin with you;

I Would have you to night (stay not for the Sun,

Which sure will rise blushing at this nights brawling)

Do you and Richmond, with some score of men

Post to your house, tis but an hours riding,

And something more; there fortifie your selves,

Your Ladie, and your pretty little Sonnne,

Poor knave he dreams not of these Thunderbolts:

You my young mad cap, with your Cuz my daughter,

Shall unto Hartford Castle, she is the brand

I feare will fire our Troy; Leister and I

Will gather Powers, and thither after you;

You two for Guilford, you two for Hartford,

And we two, wheither wast we two must go?

Leis.

Go? we two must stay i'th City.

Fitz.

Passion of me, where was my memory;

[Page] But come, come, when Kings our Dials retrograde do run,

We leave to look on them, and go by'th Sun:

Lights, lights, good Gentlemen:

Exeunt.

Enter Queene, Lady, Bruce, and Hubert.

Qu.

Good Lady take not on so, Oxford sayes all

Is very well at London.

Lady.

Yes, very well;

Why then follow'd he your Grace with a Troop of horse,

A band of men? why hath he seizd the Castle,

Cashierd my Servants? Oh Madam can it be,

Your Grace (the Alter where I ever paid

A Subjects devout Love,) should by a slight,

a fained accidentall visite make,

An entrance for hostility and terror.

Qu.

Hubert, redeem you in this Ladies faith,

And relate the truth.

Hub.

Only upon mine honour

Was I sent to seize this Ladies young Son George,

As a pledge to'th King for her Lords loyalty.

Lady.

No Hubert, my Son is far enough from thee,

Thou fatall keeper of poor Boys.

Hub.

You mean

Concerning Arthur, the unfortunate Sonne

Of Jeffery Plantaganet; Oh mad rumour!

Who would trust thee but with so much reputation

An honest begger boasts of?

In that beleeve me Madam, report hath wronged him,

Which I can witnesse Lady.

Enter King and Chester.

Lady.

The King come to,

Oh my sweet George, my joy; what wilt thou do?

All is to our desire; where's Bruces Sonne?

Hub.

Convey'd to Wales she affirms Sir.

Lady.

Where thou shalt never see him John.

Good Madam,

Wee'l speak with you anon, Queene Isabell,

[Page] Thou must be still an agent to secure

Me and my Kingdome, straight with the Earl of Chester;

Post thou to Hartford Castle, whither we are certifi'd

Young Bruce is fled with old Fitzwaters daughter,

Try if by fair means thou canst win her to

Attend on thee at Court; if we have not her

A pledge, (as this) for her Fathers faith, we stand

The food of faction, get her any way;

If she deny, Chester with forces ready,

Of from the Castle, shall give them fierce assault,

And force them past entreaties; go my love

And play the Amazon, with her surprisall,

Secure a Kingdome.

Qu.

This craves hast and care; come noble Chester

You shall along; but good my Lord forget not

That Ladies kindnesse to me.

Oh my sweet.

Kisse. Exit.

Hu.

What a fine thing he makes the Queen; Oh lust,

With what smooth craft thou creeptst to things unjust.

Oh my Matilda, if power or policy

may get thee once more in these arms, I will hazard

Even to a Kingdom for thee; come Madam fear not

I wear no frowns, I am all mirth, lets see your pretty Son.

La.

I fear your mirth is like the Porpoist pastimes,

My Son hath been in Wales this moneth.

Hubert, see the Gates lock'd, a guard upon the Walls,

Whilst we take some to search.

La.

Where will you search King John?

For heavens sake do not search.

Hu.

Nay and't be come to that.

Exit.

Let me go,

In these proceedings the Kings safety rests,

The Lyon must not bend to baser breasts.

Exit.

La.

Heaven to thee I kneel, who affrighted Mother am,

Oh from this Lyons claws keep my poor Lambe.

Exit.

[Page]

Enter old Bruce, and Richmond, and above Oxford.

Ol. Bru.

The Castle Gates are shut, swift footed Tyranie,

That canst when thou pursu'st thy wild desires,

Out run the wantan Roe; Oh Richmond, Richmond,

I fear our stay all night, ha's made me witness

Of a day darker then night.

Rich.

Yonr fears and your afflictions

Meet in one Center, for it seems the King

Sent Oxford in the night on the walls;

Behold where Oxford stands, I fear they have seiz'd

Your Sonne, your Wife and Castle.

Ol. Bru.

Oxford, thou signe

Set up to shew me where my sorrows dwell,

Martyr me not with circumstances; but tell me,

Is it (as from thy ominous presence there)

We may conjecture.

Ox.

Because you request brevity,

Then by my ominous presence here great Lords

You conjecture that you come too late.

Rich.

Let force our entrance,

We have tweuty men of spirit to dare.

Ol. Bru.

A score of Cowards, Oxford,

Dar'st thou be honourable?

Ox.

An other time,

But now I have no leisure, the King is here.

Rich.

In person.

Ox.

Yes, and power;

And if the Queen and Chester speed as the King has,

We shall have a pledget too for Fitzwaters loyalty,

And so good day, ye meet the proverb here,

Ye both are early up but near the neare.

Exit.

Rich.

We strongly may conclude from their intelligence

Of your Son, and fair Matilda's flight to Hartford,

Thither the Queen and Chester are repair'd,

Either by force or policy to obtaine her,

[Page] So that the nearest path to our proceedings.

Is to post back to London, and to hasten

Her Father thither with his powers, and so

Secure your Sonne, his Daughter, and it may be,

Surprise the Queen and Chester.

Ol. Bru.

If we do,

If but a hair of my betrayed wife,

Or my poor boy do perish, a head royall

Shall be sent back, slight scratches leave no scars

But deep wounds are seeds of Civill wars.

Exit.

Actus 2. Scoena 1.

Enter King, Hubert, Lady, and Bruce.

YOu would not then produce him.

Hu.

Think of it Madam,

And for your own discharge, give up your Son.

La.

I have him not to give.

We will no more be mock'd, are all the people,

Enter 2 Souldiers with a Hamper, the Boy in it.

Horses, and Cattel voided forth the Castle?

Hub.

All but this Hamper which stood underneath

The stairs that led into the Dungeon.

A place suspicious, search it.

La.

Let not rudenesse boast sir,

She was born i'th presence of a Prince.

Hub.

Tis lock'd my Lord.

Where is the Key?

La.

I know not, lost.

Cut it open.

La.

Do not, do not, indeed you'l spoile it then.

Well then they shall not.

La.

Now the King is gracious.

But fetch each man a Torch, and here before me Set it a fire.

La.

Oh rather cut it sir in a thousand peeces;

[Page] Why did you tell me that they should not cut it,

And now would burn it? who did teach you sir

To mock a wounded heart? look, look, and they do not go

To cut it too; good sir, I have a Jewel

Lyes conceal'd there, which I hid for feare o'th souldiers,

Of infinite value.

The Boy rises.

Hub.

Tis open my Lord.

what's in't?

Hub.

Marry youth in a basket sir, here is the prety Jewel Of infinite value.

Hold him fast fellow, Hubert keepe back the mother.

La.

I would be kept back, is that a Boy

To crush with a rude hand, alas a grisle

Look, and his very looks do not fright my Child.

Boy.

Oh mother here is a man lookes very black,

(Pray do not hurt me) indeed, and if you doe,

You'l make my mother cry

La.

For heavens sakellet me kisse him, I warrant you the Childe was almost smotherd, come from him George.

Boy.

A wo'not let me go, if I were your match,

Ide give you a good sound box o'th eare,

Come, Come, 'we will not part you, Hubert there waits

One Brand without, servant to the Earle of Chester,

With a guard, let him Convey them both to Winsor Castle,

And by this signet to sir Walter Blunt,

Deteyne them in his custody, untill

We shall direct him further.

Boy.

Oh brave, mother I have heard of Wiusor Castle, my father

Told me there are brave bowes and arrowes; and drums there.

La.

Oh happy Innocent, who in spight of foes

Can play the pretty wanton with thy woes.

Exit.

Hub.

The Lord Steward sir

Enter Winchester.

Is come it seemes from London.

My Lord of Winchester the meaning of your speed?

Win.

The Popes legate Sir,

The Cardinal Pandulp is ariv'd at London,

What newes with him; Six yeares we have stood

[Page] An inte [...]dicted man, can he bring lowder thunder?

Win.

He brings proffers of peace sir,

Advantagable peace too, if that you please

To make a resignation of your Crowne:

Ha!

Win.

Good sir suffer mee,

And that to him to the Popes use; withall;

(Paying an Annuall tribute for your Kingdomes

Of England, and of Ircland, in the presence

Of the whole body of the Peers,) he has power

From his Holiness to reinvest your temples

With the rich Diadem; and with all pronounce you

Again admitted into the Church, your power

Weakned and wounded, yet may by this meanes

Lyon like, rowse it selfe and remove all obstacles

Twixt you and the high calling of a King,

Which by the reason you stood Curst at Rome,

Receiv'd affronts so frequent; besides Fitzwaters,

With Leister (who by the return of Bruce and Richmand

From thence to London, were upon expedition,

With there powers for Hartford Castle to intercept

The proceedings of the Queen and Chester;)

I have staid upon the Legats special chardge

To attend your resignation, potent nessesity

(The great dispenser with all Cerimony,)

Calls it a point of Policy, whereby

You build your selfe, ruine your enemy.

Hu.

And then you stand again, sir a King absolute

And dazel faction.

Ki.

Come we will catch craft

With imitation, he that would screw his ends

To his own aims, must mingle (when he wins)

Secret dissemblings 'mongst his venial sinnes.

Enter Souldiers, and young Bruce prisoner.

Ches.

You are mine Sir.

Y. Bru.

Tis false, I am Fortunes.

Ches.

[Page]

This day to fortune then I sacrifice,

As to my Mistresse.

Y. Br.

A Whore is then your Mistresse.

Ches.

A Whore!

Y. Bru.

A rascall Jade,

That takes with the dixterity she gives; tell me

Of your Mistresse and the Devil: Oh my stars.

Ches.

O sir we have wayes to tame you, you remember

You brav'd me in the presence of the King,

At Baynards Castle.

Y. Bru.

Oh I am mad,

Yet not so mad, but I dare still brave Chester,

And from the top of my affliction,

Upon thy light heel'd Mrs. wanton fortune,

Cast from the manly temper of my blood

A noble scorn.

Ch.

You shall be fetter'd first.

Y. Bru.

Fetter'd:

Ch.

Yes, and sent

Up to the King as an arch Rebel, to whom,

To whom (before) we have by Letters sent our happy fortune.

Y. Bru.

Rebell:

By that boyling sea of blood which thou hast troubl'd,

Had my desires but bodies, I would burst

Fetters of steele, tear off thy canker'd flesh,

And with thy Jaw-bone, (thou honour wounding man)

I would kill a thousand of these Rascals.

Ch.

Drag him

Into the Castle, since your fortunes move you,

We [...]'l force you to a madnesse.

Y. Bru.

Fool thou canst not;

Frost makes fire fervent, he that wisely knows

His wealthy fate, bravely becomes his woes.

Charge. Exit.

Ches.

Are you so arm'd, away with him.

[Page]

Enter the Queene, dragging in Matilda, her hair loose, and Face bloody.

Qu.

Come forward furie, witch.

Mat.

Alas, why thus

Great Queen do you mis-use me? credite me

I do not feare to die, young Infants do it;

Nor wish I life, the murtherer enjoyes it;

But let me know my trespasse.

Qu.

I'me made your stale,

The King, the King your strumpet; oh thou wretch,

The matter my spleen!

tears her.

Mat.

Hear me but speak.

Qu.

Yes, I will thee speak,

That every syllable may serve instead

Of a fierce wind to blow my fiercer fury

Into the fashion of a punishmen,

Fitting the daring of thy trespasse.

Mat.

Heare me;

By these red marks, registers of your rashnesse,

And by these tears, the fruits of my affliction,

That the King passionately pursues my love,

Is truth uncontr [...]dicted; but if I

Did ever think you wrong, let mine honour be

buried in dark oblivion.

Qu.

Sin's a sweet tame Serpent, they must beguile

Cloath rude errors, in a soft smooth stile:

Enter Chester.

[...]ut str [...]mpst thou shalt ruin't.

Charge.

Ches.

Shift for your selfe Madam,

Richmond escap'd from London with the powers

Leavied by Leister, and Fitzwater, (who

Were stai'd by Winchester, and the Legate Pandulph)

Hath rescued Bruce, got again the Castle,

Ent. Y. Bruce, and Richmond with Souldiers.

And make you now their search.

Exit.

Rich.

Cease on the Queen;

Madam you are our prisoner,

Y. Bru.

Keep Chester safe good Ricmond;

[Page] Ha! oh what rude hand

Hath ras'd this Book of beauty? a face where vertue

Intelligibly stood to charm the Reader: Tell me Cozen,

And by the thousands of thy tears, and fears

No tittle, place, degree, the very Grave

Shall not secure the offender.

Qu.

There is death in's angry eyes.

aside.

Mat

The rude Souldiers

My noble Cozen hail'd me thus, and tore me,

And would have sure done worse, but that the Queen,

The wondrou [...] kind Queen in her royall person,

Came with a troop of well appointed Souldiers,

and rescued me.

Qu.

She mocks me sure.

Y. Bru.

The Queen so kind.

Ma.

O Cousin had you seen

How good she was in her quick speed, how zealous

To relieve innocence, you would have thought

She'd kil'd them with her frowns e're she came at them,

So lamentably miserable were my sufferings,

So excellently noble was her charity.

Y. Bru.

Now by my life, 'twas honour in the highest,

Because a foe, and gracious Madam, not

To be out bid in this brave Mart of honour,

You shall have a safe Convoy, and of quality

Fitting your person, to convey (with your freedome)

To th'angry King our loves, that he may see

How plain to him we mean, and how nobly

Unto a goodnesse of so fair deservings

As this now showne; see there be present order

For her Majesties attendance, and swee Coz

With-draw from the cold ayr.

Exit,

Qu.

Farewell Matilda;

Oh pardon me for heavens sake, now I find

Thy soul is Christall.

Ma.

Remember to the King

Good Madam my great sorrows; and forget not

[Page] To tell him this, that woman in whose heart

Vertue and honour stand a paire of Centinels;

The Sea may sooner flame, fire admit frost,

E're such a woman fall from heaven: Oh she,

Who as a regular star, keeps vertues speare,

Shews like a Pearl hung in an Angel [...] eare.

Qu.

Thou noble soul of goodnesse.

Exit.

A Chaire of state discover'd Tables and Chaires responcible, a Guard making a lane: Enter between the [...], King John, Pandulph the Popes Legate, Chester Oxford, and all the Kings Party: After them, Fitzwater, Richmond, Leister, and Bruce; the King (holding the Crown) kneeling on the left side of the Chaire, Pandulph possessing it.

Lo in the sight of Prelates Peers,

Of Earth and Heaven, of all that heares

My words; I John Plantagaent,

(VVith all submissive reverence,) set

My Crowne at the most sacred foot

Of Innocent the Third, unto't

I joyne my Kingdom [...], giue them free

Unto his pious clemencie:

And for the follies of my Raigne,

Heats of my youth, and the rough straine

Of riper years, my Rebellions, my high hand,

My six yeares Interdictien, and

A [...]l my mis-doings; I this, and those,

Submit to the Popes power to disclose.

Pan.

You have by times recracted, and your foot now

Beats out a certain path; in these Lords sights of I do

Produce the Letter, drawn Obligatory

From John of England to his Holinesse,

Peruse it sir, you are there oblig'd to pay,

(As yearly from this day Renting your Kingdoms)

To Innocent the Third, and to his Successors

A thousand marks per annum.

It runnes so.

Pan.

Yes, three hundred for Ireland, & seven for England.

Fitz.

Do not peruse it John, though thou and we

Have had some bickerings, yet let me counsell thee,

This is my Countries Cause.

Pan.

[Page]

You, and your Country

Have cause in this Cause to rejoyce.

Eitz.

Good, good, Sir Pandvlph,

Though in our filiall love to our Mother Church,

By his Holinesse command, we stay'd from Hartford,

Yet lets have fair play, do not wrong that mother,

Apparelling her comely holy face,

With a forehead full of frowns, pleited proceedings.

Pan.

You raile.

Fitz.

I do not raile,

Although I hold and reverence the Chair,

(We had been at Hartford else, and not at London,)

Yet in a true breast we should nothing see,

But holy pure, unmixt simplicy.

Give me the pen.

Leis.

Will you then signe?

Yes, you rough Sonnes of faction,

And hook your stubborn nostrils, this is Rubarb

To your smooth pallats: give me the pen to write.

Fitz.

Do not write John.

Do not prate fool.

Fitz.

In sooth that write

Will wrong thee; Children and Fools tell truth,

Remember that.

Pan.

There was no way like this,

To beat a path out to your peace.

Ki.

Right Reverend

Pand. proffers to descend.

And holy Sir, receive to the Popes use,

His will, and your own charge: Sir, descend not,

But ere you re-invest me, hear me tell

A tale of sorrow, behold here these Lords,

Who had been now bruising the face of peace

With unkind buffets, but for VVinchester,

Your strict compulsion, and their seeming fear

Of deserv'd interdiction; but oh spright,

No Devill deceives like th'houshold hypocrite,

These of my Court, with young Brace now insconc'd

[Page] At Hartford, whither it may hair brain'd Richmond

hath retir'd his discontents.

O. Bru.

We misse our hopes else.

These bandy faction with me, and with their drum [...]

(Lew'd linguists to interpret their disloyalties)

Brave me i'th field, deform th' afflicted face

Of trembling England with foul bloody stain [...],

Larums at hideous midnight, they break my sleeps,

Fill them with fearfull dreams, terrible startings,

And with the griefe of my unfriendly fears,

Force me to pierce my pillow with my tears.

Pan.

Unnaturall cruellty,

Able to melt marble into compassionate tears.

Ox.

Dainty dissembler.

O. Bru.

Now may it please you—

Pan.

Peace untill his holinesse command be sinished;

Ascend your now true Seat sir, and from the hand

Pan. gives John the Chair.

Of my selfe Pandulph, Legate for the Pope,

Observing the due payments specified,)

Receive your Crown and Kingdoms; and with them

We here pronounce your absolute readmission

Into the Church, and from his holnesse

We re-invest you, with all Powers, Prerogatives,

Freedomes, Communities, (and in the strength of effecacy,)

That constantly adhears to lawfull Princes,

And an obedient Son unto the Church,

Long life to John of England, VVales and Ireland,

The lawfull King!

Florish.

Leis.

I am mad.

Fitz.

So, so, now we must suffer

The Kingdoms ancient Liberties, Land, lives,

And all to run the course that he shall steere,

Good heaven that I were dead, what do I here.

weeps.

O Bru.

But i'le not asse-like bear my Countries wrongs,

Mine own at home, and like a Court Camelion,

Give thanks unto mine injurer: hear me King John.

You shall hear us sir first; we have been clouded

[Page] Six years, but like the Sun in his Meridian,

We now again are glorious; thus in briefe,

Leister we require strong pledge for your loyalty;

Bruce call your mad Son home from Hartford,

Your Wife and Sonne shall better speed at Guilford,

For Richmond in our re-assumed power.

We will proclaime him Traytor, and Fitzwater,

Either give up Matilda for your faith, or heare

What we shall sentence.

Leis.

We must stand then

What thunder you shall throw, perform with us,

We kisse your royall hands.

O. Bru.

If not, we stand

Rocks in our resoluton.

D'ee heare them now sir?

Fitz.

Nay, nay, let him hear me too then:

Lord Legate Pandulph; thus 'tis,

And thus you may informe his holinesse,

In a field cal'd running- Mead' twixt Staines and VVinsor,

After some bloody noses on both sides,

I tell truth I; there the King and Barrons

Met for discussion of conceiv'd wrongs,

And indeed not misconceiv'd, our Houses, Honours,

Our Fathers freedomes, the Lands ancient Liberties

(Unjustly to encrease some private Cofers)

Felt daily Demunition, there to Covenants drawn,

(Bearing the name and sence of Magna Charta,

Which many hundred years may be seen hereafter)

King John subscrib'd, we swore him fealty.

Which fealty they deny'd, till our assoylment

Of our six years Interdiction, forcing us therefore

To seal unlawfull liberties.

Leis.

Upon our honours,

They were but what Antiquity prov'd lawful.

Ox.

Oh but my Lord.

Fitz.

Tut, tut, Lord me no Lords,

He broak, we powted, I tell plain truth I,

[Page] Yet fell into no relapse of hostility,

But wot ye what, he casts a covetous eye,

Upon my Daughter, passionately pursues her,

There had been other pledges but our oathes else,

(For heaven knows thtm he had) and (amongst the rest)

Matilda must be my pledge, for well he deem'd

They yielding their [...], shame would brand my denyall,

But catch craft, when we put truth to triall,

Kings should have shining souls, and white desires

Enflam'd with zeale, not parch'd by Paphian fires;

So shines the soul in which vertue doth shrowd,

Is a serene skie bespotted with no cloud,

But a Copper conscience whil'st the head wears Gold,

Is but a plain down-right untruth well told,

Come, come, I cannot fawn.

But in the passion

Gf a Dog sir you can snarl; have you talk all your words?

Fitz.

I have told truth I.

Then we will fall to deeds,

Oxford command a Guard, and presently

Take them to'th Tower; we can now talk and do,

Away with them, and muzzel those fierce Mastiffes,

That durst leap at the face of Majestie,

And strike their killing fangs into honours heart;

Are they not gone? we shall be passionate

In your delay.

O. Bru.

Come Leister, let us wear

Our sufferings like Garland.

Leis.

Tempest nor death,

Could never ou [...] do Leister, who dares dye

Laughing at times poyson'd integrity.

Fitz

Now by my troth 'twas very nobly spoken,

Shall I turne tale; no, no, no, lets go,

But how things will be carried; ha! are these teares

Body of me? they are; Shall I go like a sheep

With this pair of Lyons; ha, ha, ha,

I do laugh now John, and i'le tell thee why,

[Page] Th'art yet in thy green May, twenty seven summers

Set in our Kalends, but when forty Winters more

Shall roun'd thy forehead with a field of snow,

And when thy comely veins shall cease to flow,

When those majestick eyes shall float in rhumes,

When giant Nature her own selfe consumes,

When thy swift Pulses shall but slowly pant,

When thou art all a Volum of my want,

(That like a tale-sp [...]nt fire thou shalt s [...]nck,)

Then John upon this lesson thou wilt think [...]

He dyes a happy old man, whose sweet youth

Was a continued sacrifice to truth;

I must weep now indeed.

Ki.

Away with them.

Exit.

Pan.

Unto King John, the favour of his holinesse,

With peace and happinesse.

Exit.

Which we return

With all filiall obedience—look up Oxford,

The day breaks, and the Sun hath chaste the night

Out of our Hemispheare.

Enter a Gentleman.

Ox.

Your news sir?

Gen.

Letters from the Queen sir.

Was the Earl Richmond there with any powers

E're your departure.

K reads.

Gen.

No may it please your Majestie, we heard not of him,

But all on your part went fair and fortunate

Oh Oxford now they have her, flie back like lightning,

Tell him this day wee'l meet them all at Barnet.

Exit Gent.

But her Father and her friends imprisonment

May obdurate her hea [...]t, they dare not sure

On the great perill of a curse to fall

Into a Relapse now you are absolute.

Faith [...] trie smooth paths to your ends, to release them,

I hold the winningst way to captivate

Their duties, and Matilda to your wishes.

Good, do not kill me [...]oy before our going

Instantly thou shalt flie with the Lords release,

[Page] We pine in our delayes, oh Cupid swiftly

Fly into Paphoes, and from thy Mothers shrine,

Catch but a nimble wanton flame, and cast it

Into the busie Kingdome of my heart,

That it may teach my tongue the art of victory,

And every year unto thy well-spent Quiver

I'le add a shaft, and call it Cupids love Dart;

Come Oxford, I tread methinks on aire,

Untill I read that Volum of sweet grace,

The well writ story of Matild [...]'s face.

Ox.

She yeelds at last my life on't sir.

Exit.

Actus 3. Scoena 1.

En [...]er Brand reading of a Letter.

WIll Brand, these are to certifie, That Fortune, Mistresses of Changes, with my unluckie stars, hathrendred m [...] a prisoner to my most mortall Enemy young Bruce.

Bra.

That mad Tamberlaine.

Let.

My entreaty is none of the noblest, but direct against my blood, my desires, and my deservings.

Bra.

Oh that I had a leg of that young Bruce, but minc'd and butter'd.

Let.

I am credibly possest, his Majestie hath into your custody comm [...]ited his Mother, and her young Sonne George, whereby you have occasion cast into your hand to parallel their; sufferings with my fortunes, not that I would have you banish humanity.

Bra.

He need never have writ that Bawds and Serjeants have sav'd me the labour.

Let.

Nor give to deep a wound to Conscience.

Bran.

Another labour sav'd too,

Usurers do it daily

Let.

But as I let you understand how I am here accommodated, so shape the duty of a Servant to parallel in their persons, your villified Mr Ralph Chester.

Bran.

[Page]

Brave Lord, the Laddar of my fortunes, [...] suffer on that side, and for humanities sake, and thred-b [...] conscience (a couple of cousin- Germans, that thrice a weeke know not where to get a supper;) shall the friends of him that stands Lord of thy fortunes, and thy profest foe, fare well here; now I talk of fare, I receiv'd this Letter yesterday, and since they have uei [...]h [...]r eaten bit, nor drunk drop, nor by these ten stealers shall not, till I heare againe from my Lord—: Come o [...]lt madam Mother, and your youg prating brat—they do look hungry already.

Enter Lady and Boy.

La.

What would our unkind Jaylor?

Boy.

Sure Mother Mr. Brand hath brought us v [...]ctuals.

Bra.

No sirrah, I come to tell you to day i [...] fasting day.

La.

Two dayes together,

Good Mr. Brand, 'tis not mine own want beggs,

But my poor Boyes; I have held him pretty pastime,

To have him yet forget that wild woolf hunger,

And still the harmlesse soul would point each period

Of his sport, erying Mother give me bread.

Bra.

She has a winning way,

Her carriage and her person are both exquisite:

Fai [...] tell me Madam, what would you give for some victuals

To give your Son?

La.

Any thing, set thou the price thou shalt have Gold.

Boy.

And truly sir, if you'l but give me a Cake,

Or a Capons legge, when I am a man,

I'le give you twenty shillings to buy your Boy fine things.

Bra.

If you dare lye with me,

You and your Sonne shall both have sustenance.

La.

Hearken good heaven, what saies the man?

Boy.

He would Ile with you Mother,

But then when I am a bed too, there

Will be no room for my, Father.

Bra.

Be as plain and briefe as I was, dare yee do' [...]?

La.

No thou bad man, I dare no [...].

Bra.

No body shall see [...] by this hand,

La.

Thou lyest thou feind, shouldst thou [...] Ca [...]e do' [...],

[Page] The Towers would tremble, and turn Intelligencers

To all the passengers; the walls would shudder,

The E [...]cutchions, Streamers, Baune [...] s, all the Reliques

Of fame and honour, would fall down, to see

Honour and Fame so wounded.

Bra.

See! I am asham'd to hear you,

If such sinnes could not be done without being seen,

Informers would have a fine trade on't, a Parators place

Would counvaile five Serjeants; ha, ha, seen kither;

Why there would not be sheets en ugh in the Land

For the penitent, and innocent Beadles enough to correct the

Guilty; Come, come, we'l do't i' [...]h dark then,

La.

In he dark said'st thou?

Oh in the deepest darknesse, the white Angels

Will stare upon thee, and with flaming eyes.

Will make make the room appear to thy wild conscience,

Twice lighter then the Sunne:

'Tis a foul Devil that insinuates to thee,

The sower sweetnesse of a d [...]uded minute;

He has borrowed a white robe, pluck it off from him,

And thou wilt see him a black hideous monster,

How with a slavish look he will creep from thee,

Displeas'd that thou art falne again in love,

With holy goodnesse.

Bra.

How my Conscience wambles.

Boy.

Do, do, good sir, think of it,

It will make you give's some bread.

And then you'l be a very honest man,

Bra.

I have heard you.

La.

And with a thirsty soul I hope.

Bra.

Yes, as Usurers heare Sermons, more for novelty then integrity, I love good words when I pay nothing for [...]; what do you see in me that I should appear unworthy of your grant [...]

La.

Because in that request,

Thou appear'st to me as ugly as a Toad.

Bra.

A Toad [...]

Boy.

[Page]

I, and a Frog to if you go to that,

Doe not cry Mother.

Bra.

Get you both in, by this victorious sword,

And by the horrid odious comparison,

(for such a one first [...]u e made comparisons odious)

Ye get not a bit this seven dayes.

Lady.

By that time

My Boy and I shall make a pair of happy ones

In youder glorious Kingdom; tell me George,

Shall this bad man abnse thy Fathers bed?

Or shall we fast yet longer?

Bra.

The boy will consent I warrant you,

The Pages have instructed him.

Boy.

Indeed I am very hungry:

Bra.

Did I not tell you so.

Boy.

But rather then this Goat shall lie in my fathers place,

Indeed [...]'le fast this seven years.

La.

Ah noble boy,

Sweet plant of goodnesse, thou hast prov'd it true,

Vertue will wish the good it cannot do.

Bra.

Aterribly ugly Toad.

Exeunt.

Enter King, Queen, and Oxford.

Ox.

Good sir ye must be patient.

Patient,

Bitternesse dwels with me: if I do not put him

To an eternall patience, that shall dare

To witch me into that dull fit of fools;

Matilda won and lost [...]

Qu.

Good sir

Away;

Struggle not with the tempest of my blood,

That will undo th [...]e.

Qu.

Richmond Lyon like,

(After we sent our Letter with the Foree [...]

The Barrous had prepar'd,) clouded our day,

[Page] And made our fortunes his.

Ches.

They [...]out o'th Tower to,

Fitzwater Bruce, and Leister, with fresh powers,

Are not a league hence.

The Lyon Richmond, a Hare had he met with any

But field Mice, Rats, Run-awayes, and Weezles,

Frighted even with the waving of a Flag,

They would have call'd [...] scar-crow stufi'd with straw,

And bound upon a ten groats Irish Garron,

The Glorious Richmond [...]pon his firie Steed;

Oh there is nothing certaine but our sorrows,

Our borrow'd blisse is but the shuttl [...]-cock

Of a dayes pastime.

Qu.

I have pastim'd her, if tearing be a pastime,

Let that comfort you,

I have torne her almost to d: ath.

Matilda.

Qu.

Yes.

And would you have it comfort me?

Qu.

I know it does, call but up your Troops

Brayely again, recover her, and read

Upon her face my fury.

Oh ye cruell one,

Crueller then the flame that turn'd to Clnders

The fair Ephesian Temple; wilde as a Woolf,

The Bear is not so bloody, teare her hairs,

Which when they took their [...]astime with the winds,

Would charm the astonish'd gazer; tear that face,

Lovely as is the morning in whose eyes

Stands writ the history of her heart, intioing

The ravish'd Reader to runne on, 'pon whose eye lids

Discretion dwels, which when a wilde thought

Would at those Casements like a Theefe steale in,

Playes her heart's noble friend, and shuts out sin.

Qu.

O why then sir, if she be such a volum

Of white unvanquish'd [...] would you stain.

And blot the sair leaves with your [...] desir [...]

[Page] Ghaste, frostie bosomes, brook no lust-born fires.

She has put me to my sophistry.

Qu.

I knew I was made

Your staie for her obtaining.

Oh why

Raise you so high a Piramis to her praise,

And prostrate your own vertue? if she be

Such a Book of goodnesse (with bad desires)

Why do you read her? He no truth intends,

Seeks to corrupt that Text which he commends,

Good sir consider it.

Enter Hubert.

Well, I will think on' [...], and you will have done.

Hu.

Now is the time my Lord,

If e're you would be fortunate in your desires,

Richmond, young Bruce, Matilda,

(With the Earl of Chester prisoner,) [...]and a slight convoy

But of some threescore Horse, and two hundred Archer [...]

Are now i'th valley crossing of the County,

'Tis thought for Essex.

Where are their main Forces?

Hub.

Inscon'st in Hartford Castle, our Forces yet

Not so diminish'd, or in rout for want

Of their lost Generall, but if you please,

We dare with hope assail them.

I will be Generall,

Order the Powers you have for present on-set.

Qu.

My Lord, you said you would consider.

I am considering bravely how to charge

The Foe just in the face: Matilda I am now thy Souldier,

Friend of my heart, the King himselfe comes for thee,

Who shall in this dayes doings amply prove,

Honour takes fire from the flame of love.

Hu.

Good fortune on our side sir.

Exeunt. Manet Queen. A Charge afar off.

Qu.

Hear not that prayer

Good heaven, oh tempt not vertue to adorn

A foul Cause with fair fortunes: Hark, hark, they meet,

And now pell mell the angry Lords do list

[Page] Unnaturall swords, good heaven keep safe the King,

But let his Cause miscarry; I w ll not stay

To see him so pursue those wild desires,

Which cannot sure end well; i'le to the Lords

So near at hand, and with Matilda's Father,

Accommodate my griefs, and let there be

Her feares, my tears, the Kings infirmity.

Exit

Enter King, Oxford, and Matilda.

Oxford, sh [...]'s now the Kings.

Ma.

Most miserable Maid.

Most excellent Matilda all are thy friends,

Imperious love fat on my l [...]ance just then,

When on the pan [...]ing brest of daring Richmond.

(Who like a me [...]ancholly sullen Cloud,

Eclips'd thy Chariot) thou didst see me print

My re [...]lesse passion: Oxford keep my happinesse,

Just with that care thou wouldst oreserve that pair

Of pr [...]c ous things, thine eye; Chesters ingag'd

Deep in the Cha [...]e, and we must te [...]ch him off;

Pardon me honour that I plac [...]d love first,

My doings now are thine.

Exit.

Ox.

Keep near the King, Gentlemen,

His unbounded spirit may loose him el [...]e; good Madam

Do not lament so, though your friends are [...]catter'd,

Y'are in a spheare of happinesse.

Mat.

Oh that great power,

That many times out of this toy I hath taken me,

Deliver me again, because again,

Vertue hath made me miserabl.

Ent. young Bruce.

Y. Bru.

Oh that necessity

Should force us unto flight, base flight, repugnant

To man and honour. Ha! nappy flight now,

That brought me this way.

Mat.

Cozen.

Y. Bru.

Oxford, either give back

[Page] That pure unspotted Dove, from the killing Tallon

Of the forgetfull King, or thou or I

Must never see him more. [...]

Ox.

That to our fortunes,

I must not faile the King sir.

Y. Bru.

I must not faile then

Enter Richmond.

Fight, Oxford falls!

To get her as I can sir.

Rich.

We are scatter'd now

Paste making head againe.

Y. Bru.

But I have made shift to get my Cuz agen sir.

Rich.

Let us not stay now to expostulate, Necessity

Directs us to our friends not a league distant,

If we not fly we are lost.

Ma.

Good Cuz lets flie,

Tis no difgrace to obey necessity.

Y. Bru.

Oh I could stamp and tear that hagge necessity,

Bitter necessity, thou scourge of things

That forces Lyons to wear Swallows wings.

Exe. Manet Ox. to him enter King, Chester, & others.

Ches.

You have plaid the Souldier sir.

The Souldier Chester; I am so light with joy,

I could do any thing.

Ches.

Troth sir would it might please you then to grace

Me with the President-ship of Picardy,

Falne in this last Rebellion from the Lord

Bruce un [...]o your Crown.

Tis thine as certaine

As Matilda is the Kings: Oh Chester, now Matilda

Is in the Kings power.

Ox.

No sir, she is in heavens.

Ches.

Who's this, Oxford, lets help to raise him up.

What saist thou man? Matilda, where is Matilda?

Ox.

Young Bruce in his flight happening upon this way

For her recovery gave me fierce assault;

I did stand for you sir as much as man could,

Till my mis-fortune found me, then I fell;

To him eame Richmond, and with all speed possible

They have carried her to'th Lords on tother side the h [...]ath.

[Page]

Oh villaine, villaine [...]

Suppose he had cut thy hear [...] strings, hadst thou cast [...]

Thy dying eye upon Matilda's face?

She would have shot another spirit into thee,

More daring then the first, at least more fortunate.

Ches.

Let him be convey'd to'ch Town and drest,

Our best course is now to with-draw, the Lords

Are strong, and may give us dangerous chase else.

What are our hopes

Like Garlands, [...]pon afflictions forehead worn,

Kist in the morning, and at evening torne.

Exit. A Table and Chaires set out.

Enter Fitzwater, Old Bruce, young Bruce, Richmond, and Leister.

O. Bru.

The day is then the Kings.

Rich.

White victory

Clapt on her silver wings, with a sullen face,

Took leave of us, and pitched upon his Tent,

Where she sat smiling, while necessity.

Enforced our flight.

Y. Bru.

Oh that witch Necessity.

Fitz.

Well, well, away with the witch,

Tis well you brought Matilda off; come, come,

Sit to Council.

Aud brther Bruce you have a Wife and Sonne

Unjustly detayn'd from you, I am injur'd,

I pray set you our feet into the path

Of our proceedings.

Y. Bru.

Lets with our powers

Raze Winsor walls.

Fitz.

Now you are i'th field straight,

Give old men leave; you would raze! what would you raze [...]

Your reputation with your rash proceedings;

Come, come, hear your Father.

Y. Bru.

Why let him speak them,

O. Bru.

First let us take up our affronts in order,

And fix by ours, the Generalls grievances,

The crying groans of England, whose blubberd cheeks

[Page] Are stiffe with tears, to see their privildedges

Daily impair'd.

Rich.

What's to be done?

Leis.

Let's send to the French King,

Proffer him our assistance, to trans-fer

The Crown from John to him, if at such a day

He will put over a strong Navie Royall,

With an Army for the attempt, with which (our Forces

Making one body) both at at Sea and Land,

We bid fair for our freedoms.

Fitz.

I do not like it.

Y. Eru.

S'foot, you will like nothing;

Let us be ring'd and nooz'd,

O. Bru.

Besides, being assoil'd of his six years Interdiction,

Those that before fled from him as a Leaper,

Will now flock to him.

Rich.

They begin already,

(Although we seek (with our own) their good,) to censure

And call hostility plain faction.

Leis.

This is my resolve, I say there is no way

To fix our freedomes, but to call in Philip

And make him King.

Exit Richmend.

Om.

So think we all.

Fitz.

I but I think not so,

Though y'are all wise for Philip, he'l be a gainer,

But what will you get by't? They run on Rocks and shelves,

Can can counsell others, not secure themselves.

Y. Bru.

We must and will do something.

Fitz.

You will send to Philip,

Instruct him to proceed, it may be furnish

His Navie with our Pilots, he lands, we proffer

Change, John for Philip; oh can you think,

That we can undergo a heavier stroke

From a Naturall, then from a Forreigne yoak;

Go to, go to, who in no estate can rest,

They may change oft, but seldome comes the best.

Ol. Bru.

I am diverted.

Leis.

[Page]

Which way would you steer then?

Fitz.

By the same Compasse, but not upon this parallel,

I do not like the line; but this wee'l do,

Wee'l send for Lewis, Philips Sonne the Dolphine,

And to him (seemingly) preter the proffer,

A Crown will fire him; may be he shall land,

But with no more Force then we please; and it may be

He shall take a fisher Town, for every Nation

Can take away their trading as the time goes,

Our m [...]ine Force being ready, we will hover

'Twixt John and Lewis; if John deny an oath

To redresse our griefes, and become regular

And Hostage for the keeping it, we joyne

With the French and fright him further; If he consent,

We fall on his part then, expulse Lewis,

And send him to the Seas again; the Dolphine

Is young and may be wrought on, but old Philip

Is dangerously politick, with foot ashore,

Hee'l brook no jugling, both ease, and safety

We work on Willowes, but when we strike at Oaks,

We sweat, and sometimes hurt with our own strokes.

Om.

It shall be thus effected.

Leis.

But let report divulge his Landing,

With more eminent danger then we will let him practise.

Fitz.

For this time

Ent. Queen, Matilda & Ladies.

Rise then; See the Queen and Ladies,

Good Madam cast off sadnesse,

Matilda we are all here i'th City safe;

The very hearts o'th Citizens (men injur'd

In their priviledges as we are) they are ours,

What should we fear then?

Enter Richmond.

Mat.

You are all such friends,

I am poor in my well-meaning thankfuln̄esse.

Rich.

A Barge with divers youthfull Citizens,

Apparell'd rich like Masquers, is now land'd

Upon the Stairs, hearing the Queen was here,

[...]ithall this meeting of their noble friends,

[Page] Proffer their loves and duties to conclude

And grace the evening with their Revels.

Fitz.

In the Hall wee'l meet them. Did not I tell you

These Citizens were noble lads our friends?

Waite on the Ladies Lords, I am here your Graces servant,

By my troth I thank'em, they will crown our feast,

And credite me, having such a princely guest.

Exeunt.

Loud Musick.

Enter at one doore Fitzwater, old Bruce, young Bruce, Leister, Matilda and Ladies; at the other doore, the King, Chester, Oxford, Masquers.

A Dance.

Fitz.

Now by my troth they are gallants,

Citizens said you; now I remember to,

Ye do go gallant in your Shops, no wonder then,

If in Masques you cut it. I remember Gentlemen,

Your Fathers wore a king of comely habite,

Comely, because it wel became the reverend name of Citizens,

But now let a Knight walk with you in your shops,

(And I commend you for't, ye keep the fashion)

We know not which is which—; how my tongue ranges,

And night grows old, mad times, must have mad changes;

Come, come, a Hall, a hall.

The Masquers take the Ladies, and fall to the Dance.

Qu.

Beleeve me you have done well.

Y. Bru.

Pox a' these Cats guts, how they squeak.

Methinks a rattling sheep-skin lustily boxt,

Would thunder brave amongst them.

One of the Torch bearers takes Matilda.

Mat.

I can dance no more indeed sir.

Fitz.

I am deceiv'd if that fellow did not carry

A Torch e'n now;

Will you shame the Gentleman?

Dance when I bid you.

Mat.

Oh me, that graspe was like the Kings.

O. Bru.

Dance Cuz.

Fitz.

In good deed dance,

Or you will make me angry.

The K. pulls her violently.

Body of me, that's too much for a Torch-bearer,

[Page] You sir Jack, sir Jack, she is no whit-leather,

She will not stretch I assure you, if you come hither

For love so 'tis.

For love.

Eitz.

But if you and your Company,

Put on forgetfull rudenesse, pray take your Cupid yonder,

Your thing of feathers, and your Barge stands ready

To bear ye all aboard the ship of Fools,

I am plain Robin—passion of me!

Look if he do not threaten me; I will see thee,

Wert thou King John himselfe.

Pulls off his Vizard.

Om.

The King!

Mat.

Oh which way shall I flie?

Qu.

I would not leave so sweet a chaste companion.

Exeunt Qu. Mat. Rich, and Ladies. In the bussle, Fitzwater drops one of his Gloves, Hubert takes it up, and goes after the Ladies.

Hub.

What's this, one of her Fathers Gloves?

This shall be drawn upon the luckie hand of a thriving plot.

Behold thy King, thine Bruce, one of the Fathers

Of these retir'd factions; Richmond, the King,

And thine [...]ough Leister; is this still your nest

Wherein to hatch another Scorpions Egge,

To sting the afflicted bosome of your Country,

To bruise her sides with the earth-wounding hoofes

Of War-apparell'd Horses, whose dreadful neighings

May fright her pale face to a bloody blush,

And again make her groane.

Fitz.

Your pardon sir,

By my good Sword I knew ye not.

Ches.

No, if you had,

Your dangerous Brother Bruce and you, had laid

Some plot for his sacred person; then pleaded ignorance,

That ye took him as he seem'd, a sawcy stranger.

Y. Bru.

Chester, Thou art not noble in thy c [...]nsure,

And sawn 'st thy selfe into the abus'd favour

Of the to-credulous King.

Ches.

Oh temptation, what a Devill art thou;

Now by my blood young man, you court my spleen

In a vain glorious shape; Chester fawne,

Just heaven forbid it.

Y. Bru.

[Page]

An Axe upon your neck, che just heavens give you [...]

And that in heaven were justice—

Ol. Bru.

Sonne, y'are too full of choller.

Y. Bru.

Choller, Halter.

Fitz.

By the masse that's neer the choller.

Upon your lives no more, the King is here;

Fitzwater, I did not come to quarrell with thee,

I would have such a good man ever neer me,

And for a florish to the rest (of whom

As of old Bruce we have) we will require strict pledges, and

Fitzwater let thy Daughter live at Court, she shall be kept.

I'th custody of the Queen, but as no pledge.

Fitz.

The Queen is gracioue.

Come, to their ruines leave these turbulent Lords.

Fitz.

But suppose the Queen should ride abroad to hunt,

And leave Matilda solitary at home,

I think the King would come and comfort her.

Ki.

I am of thy mind, I think he would.

Fitz.

Would he so?— I would have no one hear.

Takes the K. aside,

They cannot man.

Fitz.

Pray tell the King, ile keep my Girle at home,

And comfort her my selfe.

You will.

Fitz.

John, John, now I speak out;

You made your Masque for this, a Masque indeed,

And we-aday! that it should prove a Cover

For such a night of Tempests, such wilde affections,

Such an ill-favour'd night.

Enter Hubert.

Hubert, is't done?

Hub.

Past expectation, I have better'd your plot,

And got the Queene too,

And will bring them early in the morning to'th Court.

Have the Torch-bearers given fire to the plot?

Hub.

They mixt with oppertunity.

Enter Richmond.

Fitz.

I do not like this whispering,

Where are the Ladies and Matilda?

Rich.

The Ladies are at the further side the Castle,

[Page] But by a Glove you sent by a Gentleman,

That said he serv'd Earle Leister, that with him

She and the Queene should flie for safety whither

You had directed him, glad of any scare,

They took a Barge, another leapt in after them,

But whom he was I know not.

Exit.

Ol. Bru.

Sent you a Glove.

Fitz.

A Glove indeed I misse, but I sent none.

Leis.

This is a Riddle.

I will play Oedipus, and expound it for you,

As Hubert has infus'd; you drop'd your Glove,

Ingenius Hubert found it, and (though we

Had directed otherwise,) he employ'd a Gentleman

Of our own Chamber, one unknown to Matilda,

To bring it as your close intellige ce

For her flight with him; he that leapt into 'th Barge,

As they put of, was Oxford, now we have her

Never again to lose her.

Leis.

By my vext blood

King John, this is not honourable.

Enter Richmond.

Rich.

We are betray'd,

All that bore Torches in the Masque to night,

Were of the Guard, who upon a receiv'd watch-word,

Fell to their Arms, beat down all oppos'd them,

And are shaping their course this way.

Y. Bru.

Lets meet'em,

We have an injur'd patience, came death in whirle-winds,

Ile be the first shall front him; to thy prayers John,

Pray heartily, that thy friends fatall points

May pierce these hearts; for if they misse 'tshall prove

The bloodi st beauty story ever told

To fright the Readers souls; a purple cloud

Shall shaddow England, the whole Land shall [...]ele,

The Center gr [...]a [...]s, thy very Crown shall stand

Trembling upon thy Temples, till it fall

A Mourner at thy fames black funerall.

Exit.

Fitz.

Oh noble Nephew.

Exeunt Barrons.

[Page]

Ha, ha, ha, let 'em rave on; Ingenious Hubert [...]

That couldst so swifty apprehend a smooth

Path to'th possession of Matilda!

Quit Oxford from her charge; unto thy care

The King commends the Mistresse of his heart,

I'th morning let me see her.

Hu.

She shall waite upon you sir.

Ches.

The Barrons threaten high sir.

Let them burst.

Come Gentlemen, to'th Barge, and so to'th Court,

To clip our wishes, perills appear sport.

Exeunt.

Actus 4. Scoena 1.

Enter Brand.

Bran.

I Wonder how my pair of Prisoners fadge?

I am something dogged too a to'ther side,

That thus long have not seen them, nor have they eate [...]

I am sure since they came in; in yon Madams eye

I am as ugly as a Toad, I will see her,

And contemn her—, you and your brat come out,

Ent. Lady and Boy.

Heres meat, I am sure you are hungry.

Boy.

O Mother, will you be sick now?

Mr. Boand hath brought us meat.

La.

Oh on my knee sir

I thank you, not for my want, for I feel

Nature almost quite vanquish'd; but for my Sonne;

He may live long to thank you.

Boy.

Give but my Mother

A little piece of bread, and if I live,

(as yet I may do, if you can be mercifull)

I will tell my Father such good things of you,

He shall return your kindnesse treble back

To your honest bosome; Oh Mother for some bread.

Era.

Some bread?

[Page] Why to have an honest bosome (as the world goes)

Is the next way to want bread; i [...] faith tell me,

How have you past the time you wanted Victu [...]l [...]?

Lady.

Very hardly,

And still the poor Boy sighin [...], would say, Mother

You look very hungry, I did think straight how ha [...]d

Your heart was, then we both did fall a weeping,

Cling'd our lean armes about each others neck,

And sat a pair of mou [...]ers.

Bra.

Delicate pastime, Toads love no other;

Look yee, here is bread.

Boy.

Oh if you be a good man, give me but a bit

To give my Mother, poor soul look how she looks!

Indeed she's very hungry.

Bra.

Yes, so is my Dogge,

Puts it up again.

I must keep this for his breakfast.

La.

Give but my boy one bi [...],

And the Saints sure will look how good you are,

They will be glad to see you charitable,

And call it excellent compassion.

Bra.

No, cunning from a Toad 'twill p [...]yson him.

Boy.

It will not sir, indeed I am so hungry,

I could eat Rats or Mice.

Bra.

Your to'ther hair braine,

Your wilde mad Sonne, retaines my Lord a Prisoner,

Uses him basely, and you must suffer for't.

Lady.

Give me but Paper, Pen and Inck, i'le wrile,

And charge him to fall down, and li [...]k the dust.

Thy Lord shall set his foot on, I will conjure him:

And woe away his wildnesse by the groars

I su [...]fer'd for him, I'le threaten his denyall

With a Mothers family-consounding curse:

This I will do, or any thing that may

But purchase my poor Boy one bit of bread.

Bra.

No.

La.

O harder then the Rocks, more mercilesse

Then the wilde evening Woolf.

falls.

Boy.

[Page]

Mother do not die,

For heavens sake helpe my Mother; look up

And ye shall see me dance, and then the Gentleman

Will sure bestow a piece of bread upon us.

La.

Look here thou Iron-hearted man. upon

A palre of piercing miseries.

Bra.

A Scoene of mirth;

I am all hard, the heat of lust which stood

To clip revenge, we stem a stream of blood.

Exit.

Boy.

How do ye Mother?

La.

How doth my Boy.

Boy.

Very sick indeed; but I warrant you are more hungry

Then I a great deale, are you not?

La.

Oh no,

Thou art weake, and famine plaies the Tyrant with thee;

Look here my boy, bite on thy Mothers arme,

The blood will nourish thee.

Boy.

Will your blood nourish me?

La.

Yes, yes, I pre [...]hee try.

Boy.

Why should not mine then nourish you? 'tis the same;

Good Mother eat my arme, bite but a bite,

Truly I shall hurt you if I bite yours,

I warrant you'l be better presently.

La.

I shall my Sonne, and so shalt thou, come neere me,

Let us go hand in hand to Heaven.

Boy.

Oh mother, something pinch'd my very heart,

And I shall die, my dear, dear mother.

D [...]es.

Lady.

Art thou gone my Sonne?

My soule shall overtake thee: oh friendly death

That gav'st that gripe, sure when thou kill'st the guilty,

Frowns curle thy angry forehead; but when thou steal'st

Towards innocence, (their pale fears to beguile)

Enter Brand reading a Letter.

Thou deck'st thy lean face with a lovely smile.

Dyes.

Bra.

My Lord recover'd by the valiant King!

In all his battels he is fortunate,

And now tdey shall have meate; ha! meat said I?

I have made them worms meat;

[Page] Oh what a talking is within me! if I stay,

The building sure will crush me, i'le ha [...] to' [...]h Court,

My Lord here intimates the Kings observance of me,

I must hence; oh gnilt, thou draw'st deaths image horrid,

When we begin to like our ills, how sweet a face hath sin!

Which but past by, a cheater she appears,

Joyes are her promise, but she paies us fears.

Exit.

Enter Hubert, Queen, and Matilda, a Gentleman.

Hub.

Your care in the conveyance of Matilda

To this appoited place, the King shall recompence,

With-draw your selfe.

Gent.

I shall my Lord.

Exit.

Qu.

Matilda, where's that spirit that kept thy vertue

Valiant and bold [...]

Mat.

If vertue so ill pay us,

Who would be vertuous?

Hu.

Vertue! pale poverty

Reproach, disaster, shame sits on her forehead,

Despisings fill her sleep [...], ill [...]

Meet her at every turne, tears are her triumphs,

Her drink affliction, Calumny attends her,

The unclean tongue of slaunder daily licks her

Out of her fashion; but if you be Kings Johns friend—

Mat.

Oh strong temptation.

Qu.

Matilda—

Hub.

Let.

Briefly, by that time these Letters kisse your Royall hands, [Page] she will be cloysterd up in Dunmow Abbey, and end her dayes a Vestall, wheither I could not choose but convey her, being thereunto forcibly charmed by her teares and entreaties, and especially forc'd by a secret command from heaven to mine owne conscience; I remaine your most excellent Majesties transgressing servant

Hubert.

Most excellent villaine!

Fitz.

Observe King John, e're heaven will vertue faile,

Contrary meanes, all winds shall sill her saile.

Ches.

How like a Hare, the Greyhounds chaps still at her,

Yet still she scapes! the King is full of tempest.

She's gone for ever.

Oh Hubert let us never meet again,

Never more meet; Fitzwater fetch herbut back,

As from the first, so from this Isabell

Wee'l be divorc'd, marry and set Matilda

I'th regall Chaire, the Kings admired Mistresse.

Fitz.

But will ye say and do sir?

Yet there is hope; now by my Crown I will,

We shall be Sonne and Father, thou and I

Will walke upon our Pallace battlements,

And thou shalt carty up a covetous eye,

And thou shalt cast that covetous eye about

The fair, delightful village-spotted valleyes,

Thou shalt stand still, and think, and recollect

The troubl'd longings of thy large desires,

And whatsoever thou shalt aske the King,

(Of all thou see'st) the King shall give it thee.

Fitz.

Well, let one one ride before, and certifie

That we are comming.

Chester, put on wings:

To himselfe.

Thou good old man, the bird that croak'd now sings.

Exeunt

[Page]

Actus 5. Scoena 1.

Enter King and Fitzwater, Oxford meeting them.

THese are the Abby walls, Oxford what news?

Ox.

Matilda is afraid to venture forth,

But on yon battlements it was her promise,

Ent. Abbess and Matilda above.

With the Lady Abbess to appear—and see sir.

Give us leave [...] Oh were that habite

Not so unkind, a foe to faire increase,

I'de call it then celestiall, and swear.

A bright star mov'd in that immaculate spheare:

Matilda! Mistresse of many Graces!

And lovely as the blush that breaks the day!

Cast thy commanding eyes upon a King,

Whom love hath made a begger;

Ab.

Why hunts the King

With such a violent poursuit, a chaste Dove,

That hath given up her name to heaven, and stands

White as her spotlesse vesture.

Fitz.

Lady Abbesse,

Pray give me leave, and hearken my Matilda,

I bring thee gol [...]n news my Girle, we have cast

An ill-becomming Calumnie upon

The Kings love all this while; for he protest [...]

To be divorc'd from Isabell the Queene,

And by marriage set thee in his B [...]d,

A plant to spring and prosper; women naturally

Do aflect soveraignty; wilt thou runne retrograde

In [...] faire Zodiack? though all wayes yet

Have fail'd, this will take I am sure.

To the King.

Mat.

Who hath taught my Father

To tum Apostate to that integrity

Slept in his noble breast? through a divorce

I run to golden ruine; the King marry me?

[Page]

And make thee Queen of him, and two large Kingdoms,

The Christian world when they shall hear, shall wonder,

And magnifie in their abundant praises,

The glory of our Marriage.

Mat.

Oh my Lord, here I can call necessity,

Excellent Pyhsick for a vast desire,

Our wants are holy waters, cast on lust's fire.

Fitz.

Oh brave, brave Girle!

That I had thee here to buss thee,

Her very breath did smell of heaven.

Matilda!

Fitz.

I have found thee Gold my Girle,

These are glorious wrestlings,

Celestial struglings; passion of me, that joy

Should carry Aprill eyes.

weeps.

Matilda, Look upon thy soveraigne courting,

Thy cruelty with a paire of wooing eyes,

Labouring for mercy.

Fitz.

No, no, Matilda, look upon thy soveraigne,

Thy chastity with tempting wanton eyes,

Labouring in lust.

Thou man of rude defects, let me alone.

Fitz.

Thou man of wilde desires, let me alone.

Ha!

Fitz.

Tut, tut, I know whose Cause I have in hand,

And neither ha's nor hems can fright plain Robin,

The wound that foolish love-Boy there (what call ye him?)

Had struck your heart with, because your smooth tongue,

You could not come to supple it, as the Dog does his foot,

With fair fine words you could lick me, and then

Lift me to stroak it, and heale it by Atturney,

He steers not steddy thae delights to roame,

Craft sets out swift, but ever comes short home:

I tell ye truth I.

Abbesse, deliver up Mattlda,

Or with an Army fill'd with Ruffians, Ra [...]ishers,

The very Sonnes of darknesse, we will levell

[Page] This building to the bottome.

We know the King,

(Being reconcil'd unto his mother Church,)

[...]annot conceive such out-rage.

Appears passionate

Fitz.

Now ye stamp, do ye.

Mat.

Father farewell, and to my Lord my King,

The service of his most obseq [...]ous Hand-maid,;

And good your Maiestie be [...]l [...]as'd to remember,

How excellently-admirable your Crown

Will then become ye, when you shall [...]ast off

The habite of your passions, I will pray for you sir,

And if't be possible with prayers and teares,

Quench your de [...]res, and fortifie my feares.

Exit.

Fitz.

A Fathers blessing, like a welcome cloud

With child of friendly showers, hover o're thy goodnesse,

And keep it evergreen—; she is gone sir.

Go thou and runne into the Sea.

Fitz.

Ha, ha, So the great Emperor of the Ba [...]rons,

As you cal'd him,

May come out aagin i'th guts of a poor John:

No, no, I will live and laugh, you would have made her

The mistresse of the King, and she is married

To [...]he Kings Master, oh to the noblest King

Poore supplicant ever kneel'd to, to your King,

And her King, and to my King she's married;

Oh married, married, let the Satyrs dance it,

The sweet Birds sing it, let the winds be wanton,

And as they softly with an evening whisper,

Steal through the curl'd locks of the lofty woods,

Let them in their sweet language seem to say,

This, this was chaste Matilda's Marriage day.

Exit Fitz.

It resolv'd irrevocable; who waits?

Enter Chester.

Ches.

Sir?

Enter Confessor.

Have an eye apon that Fox; where's our Confessor?

Con.

Attending sir.

Your ear—do this,

Con.

I shall sir.

[Page]

And hark you, without all expostulation, speedily

Make Brand the Instrument.

Con.

I shall not fail sir.

Exit.

All my blood turns, she is now past all recovery;

Oh day draw in thy light, Time do not keep

This Deed for story; Memory fall asleep

In black oblivions Cavern; let this day

Still skip the Kalend, and be wip'd away

From all discourse; oh let no chaste Maid.

(Remembring how Matilda was betray'd,)

With bitter teares, curse the too cruell King;

No Satyr dance this day, no sweet bird sing,

But let the Raven and Screcth. Owl cry,

Matilda the chaste Maid, must this day dye.

Exit.

Enter Brand and the Abbesse reading a Letter.

Lett.

Madam,

These are to giye you to understund, that instantly, and without any the least expostulation, you see convey'n into the outward Garden adjoyning to the Abby, your new Votary Matilda, that the bearer (this Gentleman) may without the least interception, have freedome of accesse unto her; let this from me be your safety, and forget not, the wills of Princes are indisputable—

Fustace Confessor to his Majestie.

Ab.

No, no, no cloud of niceness, order, or regularity,

Must intercept this Mandate; Sir, the Kings will,

The Confessors advertizement, and your hopes,

Shall meet this minute; but vertue is I hope

The Rudder of your voyage.

Bra.

I tell you Madam, 'tis unspotted truth,

The King is chang'd so excellent, such a lover

Now of Matilda's noble constancy,

That therefore as his (Confessor there certifies,)

Your duty is expected

To work my admittance to her, which is onely

To let her know, how heartily his Majestie

Admires and commends her.

Ab.

[Page]

Tis a joyful hearing,

Enter Matilda.

See where she walks, souls [...]o heavenly simple,

It seems the Court digests not, and (being cloy'd,)

Commends them to the Cloyster.

Exit.

Bra.

And she be so simple,

She's the fitter for the Saints, things I near think of,

Unlesse to stuffe our similies—excellent Lady.

There's such a deale of heaven in her face,

It makes my black soul tremble—excellent Lady,

Ma.

Your will sir.

Bra.

To let you understand the will of him,

Whose will the will of heaven hath new made;

Thus said King John in briefe, tell that sweet Saint,

(And there he wept as I do at the thought on't)

weeps.

The immaculate Mistresse of my dear devotions.

The King by this (with her eye not unacquainted)

Commends to her his hate of all that love,

The feavor of his blood contaminated:

Oh tell her (and he sigh'd there bitterly)

That as I was her tempter, I am now

Mine own despiser; as mine own despiser,

I will remain her vertues strong admirer;

And there just thus he kist it—; if't chance, quoth he,

Her gentle lip return the Kings chaste meaning,

Mark but which place of this (then happy (Glove

Receives that heavenly print, and bring it back,

That my lips there (like a paire of willing Pilgrims)

May pay my hearts devotions. This was all,

And this, his Glove, the Token.

Mat.

Excellence Change!

Heaven now hath heard my praiers, return his goodnesse;

I am sorry thou hast kist the Glove before me,

For feare thy lips have lay'n where the Kings did,

And cosen'd mine of that grace fell from them,

When he spake things thus good, Give me the Glove.

Bra.

Ha: He looks towards the Garden door, and whilst she turns her self that way, he changes the Glove, and gives her the other poyson'd.

Mat.

Thy looks made me beleeve, that some were coming.

Bra.

[Page]

No Madam, I have cosen'd you, twas but the wind.

Mat.

No wind shall keep my duty from his Majestie

With my observance; say thus, I return'd

Kisses the poyson'd Glove.

My love of his great goodnesse; and if he aske thee

How I receiv'd the news of his rare change,

Say, as a teeming soyle after a drought,

Welcomes a wish'd for shower: what a strange sent

Strongly beats up into my braines, while I hold this Glove

So neer my breast! thou art not honest sure?

Bra.

Neer death we prophesie, and 'tis so sure,

You cannot breath three minutes.

Mat.

Ha!

Bra.

Tis neatly don, and there's no dallying,

I know 'tis strong and swift, as by a Glove

You were carryed from your Fathers to this Cloyster,

So by a Glove you are from this Cloyster sent

To the chaste Court of Saints.

Mat.

Heaven! is this right?

Bra.

No, 'twas a left-handed Glove, look ye,

I kist the right and cosen'd you,

So that a sinister act with a left-handed Glove, very prettily

Imports a wittynesse in wickednesse.

Mat.

Thou art a merry murderer, the King was wont

To call me friend; oh if he bestowes

On's friends such guifts, what sends he to his foes?

Uncharitable love-token; oh what harsh hand

Temperd this dram of death.

Bra.

I could do't no better.

Mat.

Mercilesse man, Tyg [...]rs to thee are tame;

Oh cozening Crocadile, that with thy tears couldst take me [...]

How wilt thou howse

When thou and I meet next? when I shall sit

Above my sufferings, then will my blood be

A cloud betwixt eternity and thee.

Bra.

Clouds? yes, much clouds.

Mat.

There was the last call; to the King, commend me,

And tell him, when in stories he shall stand,

[Page] When men shall read the Conquerors great name,

Voluptuous Rusus, that unkind brother Beaucla [...]k,

Comely King Steven, Henry the Wedlock-breaker,

And Lyon-hearted Richard; when they come

unto his name, with sighs it shall be said,

This was King John— the murderer of a Maid;

Oh tell him I am past his strong temptations,

And though wild burning back'd his hot desire,

Like perfect Gold I did out-live the fire.

Dyes.

Bra.

She's dead and I must shift for one,

I heare some trampling,

Enter young Bruce.

What's he has leap'd the Garden walls? has awenching look,

And should be a good Vaulter, guilty knaves make excellent

Eves droppers, and I love to sound strange bosomes, I will lye

To see and heare, and yet not heard nor seen,

stands aside.

Y. Bru.

Here rumour gives, my cousin, chaste Matilda

To live a Votary: ha! on the ground!

Murder'd most certainly, and so warme, that yet

The murderer at my approach, may lurk

About the Garden, for through the Abbey tis

Impossible to passe; oh my griev'd blood,

Who made it so unfortunate to be good.

Bra.

He mumbles something to himselfe.

Y. Bru.

This parallels my Mother and my Brother:

Ha! something sti [...]s i'th Grove, passion I know thee not,

With a new art we must catch old Blood-hounds: well,

Although I am the Kings well-wishing friend,

And have rais'd forces for his part at Winsor,

Yet with my heart I am glad, a friendly hand

Hath ma le thee happy.

Bra.

S'foot this is one of our side,

But it seems he knows not twas the Kings injunction.

Y. Bru.

Now businesse will be minded, state affairs,

With vigilance effected, which before

Were so intangled in your hair forsooth,

Suiters could find no end of their beginnings.

Bra.

By this light I have done a good deed.

Y. Bru.

[Page]

Thou honest soul,

That (by the heat of thy happy hany-work,)

Canst not I am sure but be in hearing; If

My irregular start (upon private necessity)

Frighted thee off, be not asham'd to let

Thy unknown friend possesse thee.

Bra.

Oh braze young spark.

Y. Eru.

Or if thy modesty must keep thee off,

So well I love thy work (and as I the Kingdom)

Let this Purse of Gold, this Diamond fasten'd to't,

Tell thee thy friend was here, if thoul'dst know him,

He is a kinsman to the Earl of Chester;

And because thou shalt not doubt thy friends fair meanings,

I will return the way I came, although

With danger to my person.

Bra.

Here is one sir, wishes better to his friends.

Y. Bru.

What art thou?

Shewes himselfe.

Bra.

One that will take your honoorable Purse,

And yet passe quit at the Common Law.

Y. Bru.

Wert thou the expert Master of this peece.

Bra.

You being kinsman to my Lord and Master,

(Who ever hated this blood;) I dare tell you,

I practi [...]'d first a businesse late at Winsor,

Upon a Mother and her Sonne—

Y. Bru.

Hold heart, old Bruces Lady,

And the brat her Sonne?

Wer't thou the happy instrument

To cut these Houses down? didst thou do that?

Bra.

It would deserve (well priz'd) another Purse sir.

Y. Bru.

Gold must not part us, didst do't?

Gives him more Gold.

Bra.

Both that and this, by this stand sir.

Y. Bru.

Sonne of the Devill have I sound thee?

Bra.

Sure he knows me.

Y. Bru.

Fool, dost thou draw a sword;

What a loud lye thou dost give heaven, to think

A sword can shield the guilty, look here villaine

Upon my horrid point, where death in tempest

[Page] And whirle-winds, stares upon thee, thou murderer:

Of my Mother, Brother, and my Kinswoman.

Bra.

S'root here was a Purse wi [...]h a bob at the end ont,

Pray take your Purse againe.

Y. Bru.

Toad, I will take thy heart first.

Bra.

I deny nothing then,

Resolution crowns my craft; for those at Winsor,

(Let me free the King) I [...]ami [...]'d them, because

Your Mother was too coy, you may guess the rest;

For this it was King Johns in junction,

And I have done it daintily by this light.

Y. Bru.

By darknesse and [...]er Angels,

Thy near kinsmen,

Thou shalt not live five minutes for't.

They fight, Bran [...] falls, young Bruce keeps him down.

Bra.

O sir, what mean ye?

Y. Bru.

To aske thee for a Mother, a sweet Brother,

A chaste kinswoman; oh that thou couldst be

Ten daies a dying; Slave! i'le stick thy Trunck

So thick with wounds, it shall appear a Book

Full of red Letters,

Characters of thy cruelty

stabs him.

Bra.

This is no bleeding moneth fir.

Y. Bru.

Thon lyest, look yonder;

There lyes mine Almanack, a celestiall body,

Points to Matilda's Course. Stabs.

Whose revolution, period, pale aspect,

All tell me'tis high time that thou shouldst bleed.

Bra.

Oh.

Y. Bru.

Thy veines are all corruption,

Toads belch not fouler;

And should thy Trunck be thrown upon a dunghill,

(As it deserves no better buriall)

The sent would poyson swine, the very dogs

Would with howlings fly as from a mid-night [...]end,

And every Raven that should [...] upon't,

[Page] Would seek forsaken Deserts, and there die

Full of infection.

Stabs.

Bra.

Oh that last has finish't me,

And where I go I know not, a bloody Cloud

Hath hid heaven from me like a purple shrowd.

Dyes.

Y. Bru.

Feast thou the Crows,

This body i'le convey to Winsor, where my Mother,

And my sweet murther'd Brother, wee'l expose

(As spurs of righteous vengeance) to all eyes;

Conscience, and Blood, are strong incessant cryes.

Exit. Enter King and Lords below, old Bruce, Leister Oxford and Fitzwater above. Charge.

You Sonnes of death and disobedience;

Why is the King kept out?

Ol. Bru.

You shall know sir;

Is't not enough the whole Lands Liberties

Lye yet a gasping by your head strong passions,

Wounded by your neglect, but through blood

D' [...]e chase your vast desires, my Wife and Sonne sir.

A game as we are Prince, in our Royall word,

The villaine past our precept.

Ol. Bru.

As you past heavens

In your bloody masquing night at Baynards Castle,

When all the floores, and the white walls wore bloody

Deep crimson blushes, to behold a Prince

In blood pursue his passions.

Bar'd out and brav'd,

You bate and chafe a Lyon; bring old Fitzwater,

Thou Bruce and grumbling Leister, either speedily

Give up the Castle, and upon your knees

Fall to the mercy you have scorn'd, or here

Before a paire of minutes passe, the sword

Of incens'd justice shall even in your eyes,

Leave this old Rebell headlesse.

Fitz.

Now by the blood

I lost in holy Palestine with Richard,

[Page] Oh that right reall Souldier! King John I sweare,

That foul-word Rebel ha [...]unrivited

The ba [...]s of reason, and made me very angry;

Is it to take truths part to be a Rebel?

To ease my groaning Country, is that Rebellion?

To preserve the unstain'd honour of a Maid,

(And that maid my daughter) to preserve your glory,

That you stand not branded in our Chronicles,

By the black name of Wedlock-breaker; is this

(Good, heaven!) is this Rebellion? Come, come, the Axe;

Oh that wrong'd soul to death so falsely given,

Ent. Mowbra [...]

Flies sweetly singing her own truth to heaven.

Mow.

Stand on your guard-sir,

Young Bruce with twenty thousand

Strong able men from Cambridge and Essex,

With a speedy march, and with as dreadful threatnings,

Comes thundering towards Winsor, all his Ensigns

Crimson and black, which in their want [...]n wavings,

Cry to the frighted Country (as he marches)

Nothing but blood and d [...]ath.

Ol. Bru.

Oh noble Sonne of a murpered M [...]ther.

Leis.

Honourable young man.

Draw up our forces like a pair of angry winds,

That have got a hollow Cloud with child of tempests,

Wee'l make the valleyes tremble.

Enter Chester.

Ches.

Resist now sir,

Or the whole Kingdome trembles, [...]ewis the Dolphines

By th'politique working of ingenius Richmond,

(Who was sent for him) with six hundred sayle,

And fourscore Flat-boats is let in at Dover,

Subduing as they march, and the Towns willingly

Givin [...] [...]hem way; they have reach'd Rochester,

And if a speedy swift prevention meet not,

They will for London certainly.

Leis.

Now John thy Crown sits quivering.

Ches.

These here so resolute—

Mow.

Youug Bruce so potent—

Ox [...].

[Page]

And which strikes deepe, a factious forraigne foot

Upon our earth, 'tis a dangerous triplcity,

So that our Forces were they three times trebl'd,

(Distracted with a division thus trianguler)

Cannot promise safety.

Take it not Time, for now

The goodliest Oak in the whole wood must bow.

Fitz.

Oh that was very well said sir, nor shall ye bow,

But unto heaven and vertue, for Kings have boasted

To be her servants; oh in this tempest sir,

Give her the helme, good brother Bruce, the King

Has faithfully acquitted him of the bloods

Of your Wife and Sonne,; Leister, the King now looks

Upon his passions with a displeased eye,

Trust to our faiths sir, give the Land her Liberties,

And do but look upon my poor Matilda.

Oh, oh.

Fitz.

With Kingly chaste eyes; and a holy soul;

My brother shall command his Sonne to obedience,

Leister and he shall give ye up the Castle,

We will call Richmond with his powers from Lewis,

We will be all one soule againe, and force

The skipping French to put to Sea again,

And you shall stand a King then absolute;

Good brother Leister, sir upon my knee,

I urge your goodnesse now; shall we still stand

And chaine our freedomes to a forraign hand?

When we shun seen Rocks, then we safely sayle;

Good, good, King John, let the old man prevaile.

Oh Chester run to Dunmow, and if Brand yet

Have kept his hand whi [...]e, bid that Brand forbear,

For feare of burning everlastingly.

Ches.

I shall sir.

Exit.

Mowbray, with the bendings of the King,

Go meet that angry young man Bruce, and tell him,

Here's now no use for steele.

Mow.

'Twill be good news sir.

[Page]

Meet us at least (you stubborn men,)

In our facile affections:

Why send ye not for Richmond? must we bend, and

And beseech too?

Leis.

Passe but your Royal promise

In the words of a King, to performe what

Y'are fled from, the wind not with more swiftnesse,

Shall fly to play with Richmonds lofty Plume,

Then shall be shown in his repeale.

'Tis granted upon our Kingly word—that time in me,

shall read that Giants force necessity!

Ol. Bru.

With all submissive reverence we descend,

And kisse your Highnesse hand.

Fitz.

Right happy day,

My Girle is safe, and all clouds blown away.

Exeunt from the walls

Hoboyes sound, whilst the Barrons descend, each on his knee kissing the Kings hand, both Parties joyfully embrace; suddenly the Hoboyes cease and a sad Musick of Flutes heard. Enter to the King and Lords, the Lady Abbess, Ushering Matilda's Herse, born by Virgins, this Motto fasmed unto it— To Piety and Chastity. The Body of Matilda lying on the Herse, and attended by the Queene, bearing in her hand a Garland, compos'd of Roses and Lillies; after her, young Bruce, Hubert, Chester, and other Gentlemen, all in mourning habites.

The Song in parts.

LOoke what Death hath done! here laid

(In one) a Martyr, and a Maid.

Angels Crown Those with just applause.

Dye in defence of Vertues Lawes.

[Page]

Chorus

Such was her cause! Death! boast not of thy hands [...]

Cruelty, since the uanquish'd victor stands.

Her Chastity, to Time shall last

Like Laurel, which no lightning can blast.

Sweet Maids, with Roses deck her Herse,

Whose Vertue stands above the reach of Verse.

Chorus

Heaven hath her pure part, whil'st on Earth, [...]her Name

Moves in the Spheare of aresulgent Fame.

Hubert interpret this Apparition.

Hub.

Behold sir,

A fad writ Tragedy so ferlingly,

Languag'd, and cast, with such a crafty cruelty,

Contriv'd and acted, that wild Savages,

Satyrs, and the rude rabble of the Woods,

Would weep to lay their ears to, and (admiring

To see themselves out done) they would conceive

Their wildnesse, mildness to this deed, and call

Men more then Savage, themselves rationall;

And thou Fitzwater, reflect upon thy name,

And turn the sonne of tears, oh forget

That Cupid ever spent a dart upon thee,

That Hymen ever coupled thee, or that ever

The hasty, happy, willing messenger,

Told thee thou hadst a Daughter; oh look here,

Look here King John, and with a tembling eye,

Unvailes her face.

Read your sad act, Matilda's Tragedy.

Om.

Matilda!

Fitz.

By the labouring soul of a much injur'd man,

It is my childe Matilda.

Oh cruell King, go [...]ate thy bloody eye

With thy black command, which there lyes executed.

Ol. Bru.

Sweet Neece,

Leis.

[Page]

Chaste soule,

Y. Bru.

King, go and read thy cruelty.

Do I stirre Chester?

Good Oxford, do I move? stand I not still

To watch the when the griev'd friends of dead Matilda,

Will with a thousand stabs turn me to dust?

That in a thousand prayes they may be happy;

Wil no one do't? then give a mourner room,

Falls passionately upon the Herse.

A man of tears; oh immaculate Matilda,

These sheed but sayling heat drops, missing showers,

The faint dews of a doubtful April-morning;

But from mine eyes, ship-sincking Ca [...]aracts,

Whold clouds of waters, wealthy exhalations

Shall fall into the Sea of my affliction,

Till it amaze the Mourners.

Hub.

Unmatch'd Matilda,

Celestiall Souldier that keep'st a Fort of Chastity

'Gainst all temptations.

Fitz.

Not to be a Queene

Would she break her chaste vow, truth crowns your reed,

Unmatch'd Matilda was her name indeed.

Oh take into your spirit-piercing praise,

My Scoene of sorrow; I have wel-clad woes,

Pathetick epethites to illustrate passion,

And steale true teares so sweetly from all these,

'tshall touch the soule, and at one pierce and please.

Ches.

What will he doe?

The Ki. takes the Gar and from the Queen, and peruses the Motto of the Herse.

To Prety and Purity, and Lillies mixt with Roses.

How well you have apparell'd woe, this pendant

To Piety and Purity directed,

Insinuates a chaste soule in a clean body:

Vertues white Virgin, Chastities red Martyr,

Suffer me then with this well-suited wreath,

To make our griefs ingenious, let all be dumb,

Whilst the King speaks her Epicedium.

Ches.

His very soul speaks sorrow.

Ox.

[Page]

And it becomes him sweetly.

Hail Maid and Marty! loe on thy breast,

Devotions Alter, chaste truths chest,

I offer (as my guilt imposes)

Thy merrits Laurel, Lillies and Roses,

Lillies, intimating plaine,

Thy immaculate life stuck with no staine;

Roses red, and sweet, to tell

How sweet red sacrifices smell;

Sets the Garland on her breast.

Hang round then as you walk about this Herse,

The songs of holy hearts, sweet, vertuous verse,

Fitz.

Bring Persian silks to deck her Monument,

Arabian spices quick'ning by their sent.

Fitz.

Numidian Marble to preserve her praise,

Corinthian Ivory her sweet shape to raise.

Fitz.

And write in gold upon it, in this brest,

Virtue sat Mistresse passion but a guest;

Virtue is sweet, and since griefs bitter be.

Strew her with Roses, and give Rue to me.

Ol. Bru.

My noble Brother, I have lost a Wife and Son,

You a sweet Daughter, look on the Kings penitence,

His promise for the Kindomes peace, perfer

A publique benefit. When it shall please,

Let heaven question him, let us secure,

And quit the Land of Lewis.

Fitz.

Do any thing,

Do all things that are honourable, and the great King,

Make you a good King sir; and when your soul.

Shall at any time reflect upon your follies,

Good King John weep, weep very heartily,

It will become you sweetly, at your eyes

Your sin stole in, there pay your sacrifie.

Back unto Dunmow Abby, where wee'l pay

To sweet Matilda's memory and her sufferings,

A monthly obsequie, which (sweetned by

The wealthy woes of a tear-troubl'd eye)

Shall by those sharp afflictions of my face,

[Page] Court Mercy, and make Grief [...]

Let my wil'd errors, tell to time this truth;

Wh [...]l'st passion holds the Helm, Reason and Honour.

Do suffer wrack; but they saile safe, and cleer,

Who constantly by Virtues Compasse steer.

Song.

MAtilda! Now goe take thy Bed,

In the darke dwellings of the dead.

And rise in the great Waking-day,

Sweet as Incense, fresh as May.

Rest thou chaste soule, (fixt in thy proper spheare,)

Amongst heauens faire Ones; All are fair ones there.

Cho.

Rest there chaste soul, whilst we (here troubl'd) say,

Time gives us Griefs, Death takes our joyes away.

Exeunt omnes.

[Page]

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