KING.  The father and the son did rescue her;
The mother and the son shall rue the deed. 
So it shall be; I am resolv’d thereon. 
Matilda, my soul’s food, those have bereft,
And these of body’s food I will bereave.

    Enter HUBERT [with] BRAND.

KING.  Will Brand.

BRAND.  Your majesty. [Make legs.

KING.  Less of your court’sy.  Hubert, stand aside. 
Post speedily to Windsor; take this ring;
Bid Blunt deliver Bruce’s wife and child
Into your hands, and ask him for the key
Of the dark tower o’er the dungeon vault: 
In that see you shut up the dam and brat. 
Pretend to Blunt that you have left them meat,
Will serve some se’ennight; and unto him say,
It is my will you bring the key away. 
And hear you, sir, I charge you on your life,
You do not leave a bit of bread with them.

BRAND.  I warrant you; let me alone.

KING.  Come back again with all the speed you may.

[Exit BRAND.

HUB.  Some cruel task is pointed for that slave,
Which he will execute as cruelly. [Aside.]

KING.  No ruth, no pity shall have harbour here,
Till fair Matilda be within these arms.

    Enter SALISBURY with the QUEEN.

SAL.  Comfort, my lord; comfort, my gracious lord;
Your love is come again!

KING.  Ah, Salisbury! where?

SAL.  Here, my dread sovereign.

KING.  Thou liest; she is not there.

SAL.  Under correction you wrong my age. 
Say, I beseech you, is not this the queen?

KING.  I cry you mercy, Salisbury; ’tis indeed. 
Where is Matilda?

QUEEN.  Where virtue, chastity, and innocence remain,
There is Matilda.

KING.  How comes she, pray, to be so chaste, so fair: 
So virtuous in your eye?

QUEEN.  She freed me from my foes, and never urg’d
My great abuse when she was prisoner.

KING.  What did you to her!

QUEEN.  Rail’d upon her first,
Then tare her hair, and rent her tender cheeks.

KING.  O heaven! was not the day dark at that foul deed? 
Could the sun see without a red eclipse
The purple tears fall from those tyrant wounds? 
Out, Ethiop, gipsy, thick-lipped blackamoor! 
Wolf, tigress! worse than either of them both!

SAL.  Are you advis’d, my lord?

KING.  Out, doting earl! 
Couldst thou endure to see such violence?

SAL.  I tell you plain, my lord, I brook’d it not. 
But stay’d the tempest.

KING.  Rend my love’s cheeks! that matchless effigy
Of wonder-working nature’s chiefest work: 
Tear her rich hair! to which gold wires,
Sun’s rays, and best of best compares
(In their most pride) have no comparison. 
Abuse her name!  Matilda’s sacred name! 
O barbarous outrage, rudeness merciless!