QUEEN.  Is this the villain, Chester, that defil’d
Sir Eustace Stutville’s chaste and beauteous child?

DON.  Ay, madam, this is he
That made a wench dance naked in a wood;
And, for she did deny what I desired,
I scourg’d her for her pride, till her fair skin
With stripes was checquer’d like a vintner’s grate.[284]
And what was this?  A mighty matter, sure! 
I have a thousand more than she defil’d,
And cut the squeaking throats of some of them—­
I grieve I did not hers.

QUEEN.  Punish him, Richard. 
A fairer virgin never saw the sun;
A chaster maid was never sworn a nun.

KING.  How ’scaped the villain punishment that time?

FITZ.  I rent his spurs off, and disgraded him.

CHES.  And then he rail’d upon the Queen and me. 
Being committed, he his keeper slew,
And to your father fled, who pardon’d him.

RICH.  God give his soul a pardon for that sin.

SAL.  O, had I heard his name or seen his face,
I had defended Robin from this chance! 
Ah, villain! shut those gloomy lights of thine. 
Remember’st thou a little son of mine,
Whose nurse at Wilton first thou ravishedst,
And slew’st two maids that did attend on them?

DON.  I grant I dash’d the brains out of a brat—­
Thine if he were, I care not:  had he been
The first-born comfort of a royal king,
And should have yall’d, when Doncaster cried peace,
I would have done by him as then I did.

KING.  Soon shall the world be rid of such a wretch. 
Let him be hang’d alive in the highway
That joineth to the tower.[285]

DON.  Alive or dead (I reck not how I die),
You, them, and these I desperately defy.

ELY.  Repent, or never look to be absolv’d;
But die accurs’d, as thou deservest well.

DON.  Then give me my desert:  curse, one by one!

ELY.  First I accurse thee; and if thou persist,
Unto damnation leave thee, wretched man.

DON.  What do I care for your damnation? 
Am I not doomed to death? what more damnation
Can there ensue your loud and yelling cries?

PRIOR.  Yes, devil! hear thy fellow-spirit speak—­
Who would repent; O, fain he would repent!—­
After this body’s bitter punishment,
There is an ever-during endless woe,
A quenchless fire, an unconsuming pain,
Which desperate souls and bodies must endure.

DON.  Can you preach this, yet set me on, Sir Prior,
To run into this endless, quenchless fire?

PRIOR.  High heavens, show mercy to my many ills! 
Never had this been done, but like a fiend
Thou temptedst me with ceaseless devilish thoughts. 
Therefore I curse with bitterness of soul
The hour wherein I saw thy baleful eyes. 
My eyes I curse for looking on those eyes! 
My ears I curse for hearkening to thy tongue! 
I curse thy tongue for tempting of mine ears! 
Each part I curse, that we call thine or mine;
Thine for enticing mine, mine following thine!