KING.  Good Bruce, have done.  My heart cannot contain
The grief it holds:  my eyes must show’r down rain.

LEI.  Which showers are even as good
As rain in harvest, or a swelling flood
When neighbouring meadows lack the mower’s scythe.

A march for burial, with drum and fife.  Enter OXFORD.  MATILDA borne with nuns, one carrying a white pendant—­these words written in gold:  “Amoris Castitatis et Honoris Honos.”  The QUEEN following the bier, carrying a garland of flowers.  Set it in the midst of the stage.

RICH.  List, Leicester:  hear’st thou not a mournful march?

LEI.  Yes, Richmond, and it seemeth old De Vere.

OX.  Lords, by your leave, is not our sovereign here?

KING.  Yes, good old Aubrey.

OX.  Ah, my gracious lord! 
That you so much your high state should neglect! 
Ah!  God in heaven forgive this bloody deed! 
Young Bruce, young Bruce, I weep
Thy mother and thy brother’s wrong;
Yet to afflict thee more, more grief I bring.

BRUCE.  O honourable Aubery de Vere,
Let sorrow in a sable suit appear: 
Do not misshape her garment like delight;
If it be grief, why cloth’st thou her in white?

OX.  I cannot tell thee yet:  I must sit down. 
Attend, young Bruce, and listen to the queen;
She’ll not be tongue-tied:  we shall have a stir
Anon, I fear, would make a man half-sick.

QUEEN.  Are you here, lecher?  O intemperate king! 
Wilt thou not see me?  Come, come, show your face,
Your grace’s graceless, king’s unkingly face. 
What, mute? hands folded, eyes fix’d on the earth? 
Whose turn is next now to be murdered? 
The famish’d Bruces are on yonder side,
On this, another I will name anon;
One for whose head this garland I do bear,
And this fair, milk-white, spotless pendant too. 
Look up, King John! see, yonder sits thy shame;
Yonder it lies! what, must I tell her name? 
It is Matilda, poisoned by thee.

KING.  Matilda!  O that foul swift-footed slave,
That kills, ere one have time to bid him save! 
Fair, gentle girl, ungently made away.

BRUCE.  My banish’d uncle’s daughter, art thou there? 
Then I defy all hope, and swear—­

LEI.  Stay, Bruce, and listen well what oath to swear. 
Louis the Dolphin, pitying our estate,
Is by the Christian king his father sent
With aid to help us, and is landed too. 
Lords, that will fly the den of cruelty,
And fight to free yourselves from tyranny[374]—­
Bruce, keep that castle to the only use
Of our elected king, Louis of France.

OX.  God’s passion! do not so:  King John is here! 
Lords, whisper not with Leicester?  Leicester, fie! 
Stir not again regardless mutiny. 
Speak to them, Hugh:[375] I know thou lov’st the king. 
Madam, go to them; nay do, for God’s sake, do! 
Down with your stomach,[376] for if he go down,
You must down too, and be no longer queen: 
Advise you; go, entreat them speedily. 
My sovereign, wherefore sit you sighing there? 
The lords are all about to follow Louis: 
Up and entreat them, else they will away.