LEI.  But if my girl be yielded—­
If she be!

FITZ.  Ay, ay—­
There’s no man but shall have his time to die.

LEI.  Now is our hour, which they shall dearly by.

    Enter KING, HUBERT, CHESTER, MOWBRAY.

RICH.  Leicester, we’ll stand like three battalions: 
What says our noble general thereto?

FITZ.  Why, I say, do: 
[And] while I can, I’ll keep my place with you.

KING.  How now, my bugbear, will you now submit?

LEI.  To death, but not to thee.

KING.  Richmond, nor you?

RICH.  Earl Richmond will not yield.

KING.  Methinks, Fitzwater, you should have more wit.

FITZ.  If it be wit to live, I have no will;
And so in this my will o’errules my wit.

KING.  Alarum then! with weapons will we scourge
Your desperate will, and teach ye to have wit.

[Fight:  drive back the KING.

KING.  Of high heroic spirits be they all. 
We will withdraw a little, and confer,
For they are circled round, and cannot ’scape.
          
                         [Withdraw.

RICH.  O that we three who, in the sun’s arise
Were, like the three Triumviri[335] of Rome,
Guides of an host, able to vanquish Rome,
Are now alone, enclos’d with enemies!

FITZ.  The glory of the world hath no more stay,
But as it comes, it fleets, and fades away.

LEI.  Courage, and let us die! they come again: 
It’s Lord Hubert alone.  Hubert, what news?[336]

    Enter HUBERT.

HUB.  This day’s fierce slaughter, John our king laments,
And to you three, great leaders of an host,
That now have not a man at all to lead,
You worthy captains without companies—­

LEI.  Fitzwater!  Richmond! by the blessed sun,
Lord Hubert mocks us.

HUB.  By the moon, I do not; and put the blessed to’t,
It is as good an oath as you have sworn. 
My heart grieves that so great hearts as yours be
Should put your fortunes on a sort[337] of slaves,
That bring base fear within them to the field. 
But to the matter—­sith your state is such,
That without mercy you are sure of death
(Which I am sure, and well his highness knows,
You do not fear at all), yet he gives grant,
On just conditions you shall save your lives.

FITZ.  On no condition will I save my life,
Except Matilda be return’d again,
Unblemish’d, unabus’d; and then I yield.

HUB.  She now is where she never will return.

FITZ.  Never?  O God! is my Matilda dead?

HUB.  Dead to the world; dead to this woe she is. 
She lives at Dunmow, and is vow’d a nun.

FITZ.  Do not delude me, Hubert, gentle son.

HUB.  By all the faith and honour of my kin,
By my unstain’d allegiance to the king. 
By my own word, that hath reproveless been,
She is at Dunmow.