Volume Viii Part 59 (1/2)

ABB. Yonder he stands: I know not what he is.

[_Still he stands staring_.

QUEEN. Jesus have mercy! Oxford, come not nigh him.

OX. Not nigh him, madam? yes: keep you away.

ABB. Come in, good queen; I do not mean to stay.

[_Exit_ ABBESS.

QUEEN. Nor I to stir before I see the end.[359]

OX. Why star'st thou thus? speak, fellow: answer me.

Who art thou?

BRAND. A b.l.o.o.d.y villain and a murderer!

A hundred have I slain with mine own hands.

'Twas I that starv'd the Lady Bruce to death And her young son at Windsor Castle late: 'Tis I have slain Matilda, blessed maid, And now will hurry to d.a.m.nation's mouth, Forc'd by the gnawing worm of conscience. [_Runs in_.

OX. Hold him, for G.o.d's sake! stay the desperate wretch.

MAT. O, some good pitying man compa.s.sionate That wretched man, so woful desperate: Save him, for G.o.d's sake! he hath set me free From much world's woe, much wrong, much misery.

QUEEN. I hear thy tongue, true perfect charity!

Chaste maid, fair maid, look up and speak to me.

MAT. Who's here? My gracious sovereign Isabel!

I will take strength and kneel.

QUEEN. Matilda, sit; I'll kneel to thee. Forgive me, gentle girl, My most ungentle wrongs.

MAT. Fair, beauteous queen, I give G.o.d thanks I do not think on wrongs.

OX. How now, Fitzwater's child! How dost thou, girl?

MAT. Well, my good Lord of Oxford; pretty well: A little travail[360] more, and I shall rest, For I am almost at my journey's end.

O that my head were rais'd a little up, My drowsy head, whose dim decaying lights a.s.sure me it is almost time to sleep.

[_Raise her head_.

I thank your highness; I have now some ease.

Be witness, I beseech your majesty, That I forgive the king with all my heart; With all the little of my living heart, That gives me leave to say I can forgive; And I beseech high heaven he long may live A happy king, a king belov'd and fear'd.

Oxford, for G.o.d's sake, to my father write The latest commendations of his child; And say Matilda kept his honour's charge, Dying a spotless maiden undefil'd.

Bid him be glad, for I am gone to joy, I, that did turn his weal to bitter woe.

The king and he will quickly now grow friends, And by their friends.h.i.+p much content will grow.

Sink, earth to earth; fade, flower ordain'd to fade, But pa.s.s forth, soul, unto the shrine of peace; Beg there atonement may be quickly made.

Fair queen, kind Oxford, all good you attend.

Fly forth, lay soul, heaven's King be there thy friend.

[_Dies_.