Volume Viii Part 51 (2/2)

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

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

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

_Enter_ SALISBURY.

MAT. Do, do what you will.

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

Poor chaste child of Fitzwater, dost thou bleed?

By G.o.d's bless'd mother! this is more than need; And more, I tell you true, than I would bear, Were not the danger of the camp so near.

_Enter a_ MESSENGER.

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

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

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

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

[_Skirmish_: QUEEN _taken_, MATILDA _rescued_.

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

BRUCE. Is the field ours?

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

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

LEI. How cheers old Bruce?

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

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

With honour bury him. Cease tears, good Bruce.

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

Soldiers, your help to bear him to my tent.

[_Exeunt c.u.m_ BRUCE.

_Enter_ QUEEN _and_ MATILDA.

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

It was my fortune, and no fault of yours.

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

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

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