A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 08
General
A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 08
English drama
BRUCE. 'Tis to no end:
We have but twenty men, and they be tired.
But ere we do retire, tell me, Lord Hubert,
Where are my wife and son?
HUB. Your wife is here; your son we cannot find.
BRUCE. Let son and wife, high heavens, your comfort find!
[_Exeunt_.
SCENE III.[326]
_Enter_ KING, MOWBRAY, LADY BRUCE.
CHES. Bruce hath been here, my lord.
KING. Ay, let him go.
We have good pledges: though we see but one,
The other we are sure will come anon.
MOW. I do advise you, for your own discharge,
Deliver up your son unto the king.
KING. Nay, let her choose. Come hither, Mowbray.
[_The_ KING _and_ MOWBRAY _whisper_.
HUB. The king is angry: Lady Bruce, advise you.
LADY B. What! be advis'd by thee
To have my loving, kind, and pretty boy
Given to an unkind killer of sweet boys?
CHES. Madam, go to; take counsel of your friends.
I warrant you the king will use him well.
LADY B. Ay, as he us'd his nephew Arthur, Chester.
God bless my child from being used so!
MOW. Sir Hubert, what, are all the people voided,
The horses and the cattle turned forth?
HUB. Mowbray, they be.
MOW. Then will I do the king's commandment.
LADY B. What will he do? good Lord! what will he do?
Mowbray, I pray you, what is't you will do?
MOW. Why, fire the castle.
LADY B. The castle, Mowbray? tarry, tarry, man!
Hold me not, Chester! gentle Mowbray, stay!
Good Hubert, let me go!
MOW. You must not go:
The king is mov'd, and will not hear you speak.
LADY B. But he shall hear me! pity me, King John!
Call Mowbray back: hear me, for pity's sake!
Regard the Lady Bruce's woful cry!
KING. What dost thou ask?
LADY B. First call back Mowbray.
KING. Stay, Mowbray. Now, be brief.
LADY B. I have some linen garments, jewels, 'tires,
Pack'd in a hamper here within the lodge:
O, let me save it from consuming fire!
KING. And is this all?
LADY B. It's all the little all I here have left.
KING. Away! set fire! linen and trash!
LADY B. Once more hear me! there's a precious gem,
You have not any richer in all the realm:
If fire do blemish it, art never more
To his true colour can the same restore.
KING. Fetch it.
Two of ye help her with her hamper hither.
LADY B. Nay, nay, one will suffice: the jewel if I save,
Is all I ask.
[_Exit with_ CHESTER.
KING. We shall her jewel have.
HUB. She is very fearful I should keep her son.
LADY B. [_Within_.] Ye do, ye do!
KING. Alas! good Lady, hark: Chester and she are chiding.
_Enter_ CHESTER _and she, leading the boy_.
LADY B. Let go his hand! Is this a paw, think you,
To hold a tender hand in? fie, for shame!
A nobleman so churlish! Look, I pray,
His arms are gristless.[327]
KING. How now, Lady Bruce!
Doth Chester hurt the jewel of your joy?
Now, by my troth, it is a pretty boy!
LADY B. Ay, knew your majesty as much as I,
You would say more.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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