CHES.  So Chester will, to shun commotion.

QU.  MO.  Why, John shall be but Richard’s deputy.

FITZ.  To that Fitzwater gladly doth agree. 
And look to’t, lady, mind King Richard’s love;
As you will answer’t, do the king no wrong.

QU.  MO.  Well-said, old Conscience, you keep still one song.

JOHN.  In your contentious humours, noble lords,
Peers and upholders of the English state,
John silent stood, as one that did await
What sentence ye determin’d for my life: 
But since you are agreed that I shall bear
The weighty burthen of this kingdom’s state,
Till the return of Richard our dread king,
I do accept the charge, and thank ye all,
That think me worthy of so great a place.

ALL.  We all confirm you Richard’s deputy.

SAL.  Now shall I plague proud Chester.

QU.  MO.  Sit you sure, Fitzwater.

CHES.  For peace I yield to wrong.

JOHN.  Now, old man, for your daughter.

FITZ.  To see wrong rule, my eyes run streams of water.

[A noise within.

Enter COLLIERS, crying, A monster!

COL.  A monster! a monster! bring her out, Robin:  a monster! a monster!

SAL.  Peace, gaping fellow! know’st thou where thou art?

1ST COL.  Why, I am in Kent, within a mile of Dover. 
’Sblood, where I am! peace, and a gaping fellow! 
For all your dagger, wert not for your ging,[193]
I would knock my whipstock on your addle-head. 
Come, out with the monster, Robin.

WITHIN.  I come, I come.  Help me, she scratches!

1ST COL.  I’ll gee her the lash.  Come out, ye bearded witch.

    [Bring forth ELY, with a yard in his hand and
    linen cloth, dressed like a woman.

ELY.  Good fellows, let me go! there’s gold to drink,
I am a man, though in woman’s weeds. 
Yonder’s Prince John:  I pray ye, let me go.

QU.  MO.  What rude companions have we yonder, Salisbury?

1ST COL.  Shall we take his money?

2D COL.  No, no; this is the thief that robbed Master Michaels, and came in like a woman in labour, I warrant ye.

SAL.  Who have ye here, honest colliers?

2D COL.  A monster, a monster! a woman with a beard, a man in a petticoat.  A monster, a monster!

SAL.  What, my good Lord of Ely, is it you?—­Ely is taken, here’s the chancellor!

1ST COL.  Pray God we be not hanged for this trick.

QU.  MO.  What, my good lord!

ELY.  Ay, ay, ambitious lady.

JOHN.  Who?  My lord chancellor?

ELY.  Ay, you proud usurper.

SAL.  What, is your surplice turned to a smock?

ELY.  Peace, Salisbury, thou changing weather-cock.

CHES.  Alas, my lord!  I grieve to see this sight.

ELY.  Chester, it will be day for this dark night.