FITZ.  Ely, thou wert the foe to Huntington: 
Robin, thou knew’st, was my adopted son. 
O Ely, thou to him wert too-too cruel! 
With him fled hence Matilda, my fair jewel. 
For their wrong, Ely, and thy haughty pride,
I help’d Earl John; but now I see thee low,
At thy distress my heart is full of woe.

QU.  MO.  Needs must I see Fitzwater’s overthrow. 
John, I affect him not, he loves not thee: 
Remove him, John, lest thou removed be.

JOHN.  Mother, let me alone; by one and one
I will not leave one that envies our good. 
My Lord of Salisbury, give these honest colliers
For taking Ely each a hundred marks.

SAL.  Come, fellows; go with me.

COL.  Thank ye, [i’] faith.  Farewell, monster.

          [Exeunt SALISBURY, with COLLIERS.

JOHN.  Sheriff of Kent, take Ely to your charge. 
From shrieve to shrieve send him to Nottingham,
Where Warman, by our patent, is high shrieve. 
There, as a traitor, let him be close-kept. 
And to his trial we will follow straight.

ELY.  A traitor, John?

JOHN.  Do not expostulate: 
You at your trial shall have time to prate.

[Exeunt cum ELY.

FITZ.  God, for thy pity, what a time is here!

JOHN.  Right gracious mother, would yourself and Chester
Would but withdraw you for a little space,
While I confer with my good Lord Fitzwater?

QUEEN.  My Lord of Chester, will you walk aside?

CHES.  Whither your highness please, thither I will.

[Exeunt CHESTER and QUEEN.

JOHN.  Soldiers, attend the person of our mother.
                                   [Exeunt SOLDIERS. 
Noble Fitzwater, now we are alone,
What oft I have desir’d I will entreat,
Touching Matilda, fled with Huntington.

FITZ.  Of her what would you touch?  Touching her flight,
She is fled hence with Robert, her true knight.

JOHN.  Robert is outlaw’d, and Matilda free;
Why through his fault should she exiled be? 
She is your comfort, your old[194] age’s bliss;
Why should your age so great a comfort miss? 
She is all England’s beauty, all her pride;
In foreign lands why should that beauty bide? 
Call her again, Fitzwater, call again
Guiltless Matilda, beauty’s sovereign.

FITZ.  I grant, Prince John, Matilda was my joy,
And the fair sun that kept old Winter’s frost
From griping dead the marrow of my bones;
And she is gone; yet where she is, God wot: 
Aged Fitzwater truly guesseth not. 
But where she is, there is kind Huntington;
With my fair daughter is my noble son. 
If he may never be recall’d again,
To call Matilda back it is in vain.

JOHN.  Living with him, she lives in vicious state,
For Huntington is excommunicate;
And till his debts be paid, by Rome’s decree
It is agreed absolv’d he cannot be;
And that can never be:  so ne’er a[195] wife,
But a loathed[196] adulterous beggar’s life,
Must fair Matilda live.  This you may amend,
And win Prince John your ever-during friend.