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Arth. Sweete grandam, and good mother leaue these braules.

Elian. Ile finde a time to triumph in thy fall.

Conft. My time is now to triumph in thy fall,
And thou shalt know that Conftance will triumph.
Arthur. Good mother, weigh it is queene Elinor.
Though fhe be captiue, vfe her like her felfe.
Sweet grandame beare with what my mother fayes,
Your highnesse shall be vsed honourably.

Enter a messenger.

Meff. Lewis my lord, duke Arthur, and the reft,
To armes in haft, K. Iohn relyes his men,
And ginnes the fight afresh: and fweares withall
To loose his life, or fet his mother free.

Lewis. Arthur away, t'is time to looke about.

Eli. Why how now dame, what is your courage coold?
Conft. No Elinor my courage gathers strength,

And hopes to leade both John and thee as flaues:
And in that hope, I hale thee to the field.

Exeunt.

Excurfions. Elianor is refcued by Iohn, and Arthur is taken prifoner. Exeunt. Sound victory.

Enter Iohn, Elianor, and Arthur prifoner, Bastard, Pembrooke, Salisbury, and Hubert de Burgh.

John. Thus right triumphs, and John triumphs in right: Arthur thou feest, Fraunce cannot bolster thee:

Thy mothers pride hath brought thee to this fall.

But if at last nephew thou yeeld thy felfe

Into the gardance of thine vncle John,
Thou shalt be vsed as becomes a prince.

VOL. II.

Arthur.

Arthur. Vncle, my grandame taught her nephew this, To beare captiuitie with patience.

Might hath preuaild, not right, for I am king

Of England, though thou weare the diademe.

2. Elin. Sonne John, foone fhall wee teach him to forget These prowd prefumptions, and to know himselfe.

Iohn. Mother, he neuer will forget his claime,

I would he liude not to remember it.

But leauing this, we will to England now,
And take fome order with our popelings there,
That fwell with pride and fat of lay mens lands.
Philip, I make thee chiefe in this affaire,
Ranfacke the abbeis, cloysters, priories,
Conuert their coine vnto my fouldiers vfe :
And whatsoere he be within my land,
That goes to Rome for iuftice and for law,
While he may haue his right within the realme,
Let him be iudgde a traitor to the state,
And fuffer as an enemy to England.
Mother, wee leaue you here beyond the feas,
As regent of our prouinces in France,
While we to England take a fpeedie courfe,
And thanke our God that gauc vs victorie.
Hubert de Burgh take Arthur here to thee,
Be he thy prifoner: Hubert keepe him fafe,
For on his life doth hang thy foueraignes crowne.
But in his death confifts thy foueraignes bliffe:
Then Hubert, as thou shortly hearst from me,
So vfe the prisoner I haue giuen in charge.

Hubert. Frolicke yong prince, thogh I your keeper be,

Yet fhall your keeper liue at your command.

Arthur. As please my God, so shall become of me.

2. Elian.

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2. Elian. My fonne, to England, I will see thee shipt,
And pray to God to send thee safe ashore.

Baftard. Now warres are done, I long to be at home,
To diue into the monks and abbots bagges,

To make fome fport among the smooth skind nunnes,
And keepe fome reuell with the fanzen friers.

John. To England lords, each looke vnto your charge,
And arme your felues against the Roman pride.

Exeunt.

Enter the King of France, Lewes his fonne, Cardinall Pan-
dolph Legate, and Conftance.

Philip. What, euery man attacht with this mishap?
Why frowne you fo, why droope ye lords of France?
Me thinkes it differs from a warrelike minde,

To lowre it for a checke or two of chaunce.
Had Lymoges efcapt the bastards fpight,
A little forrow might haue ferude our loffe.
Brauc Auftria, heauen ioyes to haue thee there.
Card. His foule is fafe and free from purgatorie,
Our holy father hath difpenft his finnes,
The bleffed faints haue heard our orifons,
And all are mediators for his foule,
And in the right of these most holy warres,
His holineffe free pardon doth pronounce
To all that follow you gainft Engib heretikes,
Who stand accurfed in our mother church.

Enter Conftance alone.

Philip. To aggrauate the measure of our greefe,
All male-content comes Conftance for her fonne.
Be breefe good madame, for your face imports
A tragicke tale behind thats yet vntold.
Her paffions ftop the organ of her voyce,
Q2

Deepe

Deepe forrow throbbeth mif-befaine eueuts,
Out with it ladie, that our act may end
A full catastrophe of fad laments.

Conftance. My tongue is tun'd to storie forth mishap :
When did I breath to tell a pleafing tale?

Muft Conftance fpeake? let teares preuent her talke:
Muft I difcourfe? let Dido figh and fay,

She weepes againe to heare the wracke of Troy :
Two words will ferue, and then my tale is done:
Elnors proud brat hath rob'd me of my fonne.

Lewis. Haue patience madame, this is chance of warre: He may be ranfom'd, we reuenge his wrong.

Conft. Be it ne'r fo foone, I shall not liue fo long. Phil. Defpaire not yet, come Conftance, go with me, Thefe clouds will fleet, the day will cleare againe.

Exeunt.

Card. Now Lewis, thy fortune buds with happy fpring, Our holy fathers prayers effecteth this.

Arthur is fafe, let John alone with him,
Thy title next is fairft to Englands crowne:
Now stirre thy father to begin with John,
The Pope fays I, and fo is Albion thine.

Lewis. Thanks my lord legat for your good conceit,
T'is beft we follow now the game is faire,
My father wants to worke him your good words.
Card. A few will ferue to forward him in this,
Those shall not want: but let's about it then.

Exeunt.

Enter Philip leading a friar, charging him fhew where the Abbots gold lay.

Phil. Come on you fat Francifcan, dallie no longer, but fhew me where the abbots treasure lies, or die.

Friar. Benedicamus Domini, was euer fuch an iniurie? Sweet S. Withold of thy lenitie, defend vs from extremitie,

And

And heare vs for S. Charitie, oppressed with austeritie.
In nomini domini, make I my homily,

Gentle gentilitie grieue not the cleargie.

Phil. Gray-gown'd good face, coniure ye,
Nere truft me for a groat

If this waft girdle hang thee not

That girdeth in thy coat.

Now bald and barefoot Bungie birds,
When vp the gallowes climing,

Say Philip he had words enough,
To put you downe with riming.

Fr. O pardon, O parce, S. Francis for mercie,
Shall shield thee from night-fpels, and dreaming of diuels,
If thou wilt forgiue me, and neuer more grieue me,
With fafting and praying, and Haile Marie faying,
From blacke purgatorie, a penance right fory:
Frier Thomas will warme you,

It fhall neuer harme you.

Phil. Come leaue off your rabble,

Sir, hang vp this lozell.

2 Fr. For charitie I beg his life,
Saint Francis chiefeft frier,

The best in all our couent fir,
To keepe a vintners fire.
O ftrangle not the good old man,
My hofteffe oldest guest,

And I will bring you by and by

Vnto the priors cheft.

Phil. I, faift thou fo, and if thou wilt the frier is at liberty, If not, as I am honeft man, I hang you both for company. Fr. Come hither, this is the cheft, thogh fimple to behold, That wanteth not a thousand pound in filuer and in gold.

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