JOHN.  For her, let me revenge:  with bitter cost,
Shall Sir Hugh Lacy and his fellows buy
Fair Marian’s loss, lost by their treachery;
And thus I pay it.
            [Stabs him; he falls; Boy runs in.

LEI.  Sure payment, John.

LACY.  There let the villain lie. 
For this old Lacy honours thee, Prince John: 
One treacherous soul is sent to answer wrong.

Enter ELY, CHESTER, Officers, Hugh Lacy’s Boy.

BOY.  Here, here, my lord! look, where my master lies.

ELY.  What murd’rous hand hath kill’d this gentle knight,
Good Sir Hugh Lacy, steward of my lands?

JOHN.  Ely, he died by this princely hand.

ELY.  Unprincely deed!  Death asketh death, you know. 
Arrest him, officers.

JOHN.  O sir, I will obey. 
You will take bail, I hope.

CHES.  ’Tis more, sir, than he may.

LEI.  Chester, he may by law, and therefore shall.

ELY.  Who are his bail?

LEI.  I.

LACY.  And I.

ELY.  You are confederates.

JOHN.  Holy Lord, you lie.

CHES.  Be reverend, Prince John:  my Lord of Ely,
You know, is Regent for his majesty,

JOHN.  But here are letters from his majesty,
Sent out of Joppa, in the Holy Land,
To you, to these, to me, to all the state,
Containing a repeal of that large grant,
And free authority to take the seal
Into the hands of three lords temporal
And the Lord Archbishop of Roan, he sent. 
And he shall yield it, or as Lacy lies,
Desertfully, for pride and treason stabb’d,
He shall ere long lie.  Those, that intend as I,
Follow this steely ensign, lift on high.

    [Lifts up his drawn sword.  Exit, cum LEICESTER and LACY.

ELY.  A thousand thousand ensigns of sharp steel,
And feather’d arrows from the bow of death,
Against proud John wrong’d Ely will employ. 
My Lord of Chester, let me have your aid,
To lay the pride of haught,[184] usurping John.

CHES.  Some other course than war let us bethink: 
If it may be, let not uncivil broils
Our civil hands defile.

ELY.  God knows that I
For quiet of the realm would aught forbear: 
But give me leave, my noble lord, to fear,
When one I dearly lov’d is murdered
Under the colour of a little wrong
Done to the wasteful Earl of Huntington;
Whom John, I know, doth hate unto the death,
Only for love he bears to Lacy’s daughter.

CHES.  My lord, it’s plain this quarrel is but pick’d
For an inducement to a greater ill;
But we will call the council of estate,
At which the Mother Queen shall present be: 
Thither by summons shall Prince John be call’d,
Leicester, and Lacy, who, it seems,
Favour some factious purpose of the prince.

ELY.  You have advised well, my Lord of Chester;
And as you counsel, so do I conclude.