JOHN. In by yourself; I pass not for your spells.
Of youth and beauty still you are the foe: The curse of Rosamond rests on your head, Fair Rose confounded by your cank'rous hate,[182]
O, that she were not as to me she is, A mother, whom by nature I must love, Then I would tell her she were too-too base To dote thus on a banish'd careless groom: Then should I tell her that she were too fond To trust[183] fair Marian to an exile's hand.
_Enter a_ MESSENGER _from_ ELY.
MES. My lord, my Lord of Ely sends for you About important business of the state.
JOHN. Tell the proud prelate I am not dispos'd Nor in estate to come at his command.
[_Smites him; he bleeds_.
Begone with that; or tarry, and take this!
'Zwounds! are ye list'ning for an after-errand?
[_Exit_ MESSENGER.
I'll follow with revengeful, murd'rous hate The banish'd, beggar'd, bankrupt Huntington.
_Enter_ SIMON, _Earl of Leicester_.
LEI. How now, Prince John? body of me! I muse What mad moods toss ye in this busy time To wound the messenger that Ely sent, By our consents? i'faith, ye did not well.
JOHN. Leicester, I meant it, Ely, not his man: His servant's head but bleeds, he headless shall From all the issues of his traitor-neck Pour streams of blood, till he be bloodless left.
By earth, it shall--by heaven, it shall be so!
Leicester, it shall, though all the world say no.
LEI. It shall, it shall! but how shall it be done?
Not with a stormy tempest of sharp words, But slow, still speeches and effecting deeds.
Here comes old Lacy and his brother Hugh!
One is our friend, and the other is not true.
_Enter_ LORD LACY, SIR HUGH, _and his Boy_.
LACY. Hence, treacher, as thou art! by God's bless'd mother!
I'll lop thy legs off, though thou be my brother, If with thy flattering tongue thou seek to hide Thy traitorous purpose. Ah, poor Huntington!
How in one hour have villains thee undone!
HUGH. If you will not believe what I have sworn, Conceit your worst. My Lord of Ely knows That what I say is true.
LACY. Still facest thou?
Draw, boy, and quickly see that thou defend thee.
LEI. Patience, Lord Lacy! get you gone, Sir Hugh; Provoke him not, for he hath told you true: You know it, that I know the Prior of York, Together with my good lord chancellor, Corrupted you, Lord Sentloe, Broughton, Warman, To feast with Robert on his day of fall.
HUGH. They lie that say it: I defy ye all.
JOHN. Now, by the rood, thou liest. Warman himself, That creeping Judas, joy'd, and told it me.
LACY. Let me, my lords, revenge me of this wretch, By whom my daughter and her love were lost.
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.