A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Viii Part 47

FITZ. Now, by my troth, if any troth I have, I am as merry at Matilda's mirth, As I was glad to see her first day's birth.

For till this hour, so help me halidom,[310]

Since the too timely death of Huntington, Not a blithe word had pa.s.sage through her lips.

LEI. See, what a pleasing humour wooers bring.

YOUNG B. O, but ye leave too soon.

LEI. Yet she avers I stand too long: shall I choose yours or hers?

MAT. Either forbear, I pray ye, for a while.

_Enter_ RICHMOND.[311]

Welcome, Lord Richmond.

RICH. What, doth Matilda smile, That still like silence solitary sat?

Then off with widow's weeds, and teach your feet (That have forgot for want of exercise, And by the means your sorrow had no mean) To tread a measure for a gallant crew Of courtly masquers landed at the stairs; Before whom, unentreated, I am come, And have prevented, I believe, their page, Who with his torch is enter'd.

FITZ. Richmond, thanks, If you have aught to say about the masquers.

Beseech the gentlemen to enter in, For they are welcome guests to old Fitzwater.

[_Exit Messenger_.

Son, son, I pray you fetch the ladies in: We have been talking here about a match, And left our n.o.ble friends in discontent.

RICH. Nay, by my faith we had much merriment, Yet thought it long you neither came nor sent.

[MATILDA _faints, and sits down_.

FITZ. How now, Matilda? pray thee, cheer thee, girl.

MAT. I thought it was a lightening before death,[312]

Too sudden to be certain. Good pleasure, stay.

_Enter Ladies_.

Wilt thou not, wanton? churl, then go thy way.

RICH. What, chang'd so soon? so soon fallen to your dumps?

Cheerly! the masque comes in.

[_Enter the Masque_.]

MAT. O[313] G.o.d, this veil And look fit not this sport. I'll leave it.

LEI. Nay, For your love William's sake, fair maiden, stay!

[_Dance: Masquers take each a lady_, JOHN MATILDA, _but [she] refusing, father.[314]

They sit down apart_.

FITZ. This is no courts.h.i.+p, daughter, be not nice, You both abuse him and disparage us.

His fellows had the ladies they did choose, And, well, you know here's no more maids than Maud:[315]

Yourself are all our store. I pray you, rise, Or, by my faith, I say you do us wrong.

MAT. I will do what you will. Lead, lead your dance.

KING. You know me by my speech.

MAT. Ay, my liege, ay. O, that temptation's tongue Hath[316] nowhere to be plac'd but in your head!

KING. Well, say I have her tongue, had I not need, When you have both her eyes, nay, all her shape, Able to tempt even Job himself to rape?

MAT. Good my lord, leave, or I will leave the place.

[_Dance again; and in the first course_ MATILDA _flings from him_: JOHN _follows_.

FITZ. Dance out your galliard: G.o.d's dear holy-bread!

Y'are too forgetful. Dance, or, by my troth, You'll move my patience more than I will speak.

[_She unwilling_, JOHN _roughly pulls her_.

Nay, soft, unmanner'd sir: you are too rough: Her joints are weak, your arms are strong and tough.

If ye come here for sport, you welcome be; If not, better your room than such bad company.

[JOHN _threatens him by signs_.

Dost threaten me? then will I see thy face.

KING. And so thou shalt. Look on me, rebel lord!

Thou that wert late a factious ringleader, And in the open field gav'st me fierce fight: Art thou again gathering another head, That with such rudeness thou dost entertain The gentle coming of thy sovereign?

FITZ. My dread lord, hear me, and forgive this fault, What I have erst done, long since you forgave: If I did lead the barons in the field, The barons chose me, when they could not choose But make some leader, you were so misled.

When better thoughts enter'd your royal breast, We then obey'd you as our sovereign head.

KING. You did even what you list, and so do still: I am the king, but you must have your will.

The plain truth is, we are not come in sport, Though for our coming this was our best cloak; For if we never come, till you do send, We must not be your guest, while banquets last.

Contentious brawls you hourly send to us; But we may send and send, and you return-- This lord is sick, that pained with the gout, He rid from home. You think I find not out Your close confederacies: yes, I do, no doubt.

LEI. If there be here a close confederate, G.o.d's vengeance light upon him with my hate!

KING. No, you are open, Leicester; that I know.

CHES. I, by the Lord, my lord, your open foe.

LEI. By thy lord's Lord and mine, proud Ralph of Chester, Thou durst not say so, wert thou from the king.

MOW. Yes, but he dares and shall.

RICH. Mowbray, if you stand by, He dares perchance; else will the dastard fly.

CHES. My own sword shall maintain my tongue's true speech; For it is not frequented to such lies, As wrangling Leicester and proud Richmond use: It cannot set out, like a thundering drum Or roaring cannon, stuff'd with nought but brags, The mult.i.tudes of seas dyed red with blood,[317]

And famous cities into cinders turn'd By their two armed arms.

KING. Ay, Chester; And then they show us rags, torn off belike From poor decayed ladies' petticoats; For neither bill, nor feather'd shot, nor pike Make half nor any of those rents they have.