English

[SCENE VIII.]

Enter L LUELLEN , M EREDITH , Friar, E LINOR , and their train .

They are all clad in green, &c., sing, &c. , " Blithe and bonny. " The song ended , L LUELLEN singeth .

Lluellen . Why, so, I see, my mates of old
All were not lies that beldames told
Of Robin Hood and Little John,
Friar Tuck and Maid Marian.
Friar . Ay, forsooth, master.
Lluellen .How well they couched in forest green,
Frolic and lively withouten teen,
And spent their day in game and glee:

[SCENE VII.]

Enter M ORTIMER , L LUELLEN , M EREDITH , [ and the Lady E LINOR ].

Mortimer . Farewell, Lluellen, with thy loving Nell.
Lluellen . God-a-mercy, Mortimer; and so farewell.
Rice ap Mer . Farewell and be hanged, false Sinon's serpent brood.
Lluellen . Good words, Sir Rice: wrongs have best remedy,
So taken with time, patience, and policy.
But where is the friar? who can tell?

Enter Friar.

Friar . That can I, master, very well;
And say, i'faith, what hath befel,

[SCENE VI.]

Enter Jack and the Harper, getting a standing against the Queen comes in .

The trumpets sound : Q UEEN E LINOR , in her litter, borne by four Negro-Moors, J OAN OF A CON with her, attended on by the E ARL OF G LOCESTER and her four Footmen: one having set a ladder to the side of the litter, she descendeth, and her daughter followeth .

Q. Elinor . Give me my pantables.
Fie, this hot weather how it makes me sweat!
Heigh-ho, my heart! ah, I am passing faint!
Give me my fan that I may cool my face.

[SCENE V.]

Enter L ONGSHANKS , S USSEX , [M ORTIMER ,] and others .

Longsh . Why, barons, suffer ye our foes to breathe?
Assault, assault, and charge them all amain!
They fear, they fly, they faint, they fight in vain.
But where is gentle David in [t]his den?
Loth were I aught but good should him betide.

On the walls enter [L LUELLEN ], D AVID , the Friar, M EREDITH holding D AVID by the collar, with a dagger in his hand .

Where is the proud disturber of our state,

[SCENE IV.]

Enter M EREDITH , D AVID , and L LUELLEN .

Sir David . Soft! is it not Meredith I behold?
Lluellen . All good, all friends. — Meredith, see the man
Must make us great, and raise Lluellen's head:
Fight thou, Lluellen, for thy friend and thee.
Rice ap Mer. Fight, — maugre fortune strong, our battle's strong, —
And bear thy foes before thy pointed lance.
Sir David . Not too much prowess, good my lord, at once.
Some talk of policy another while.

SCENE III.

Enter the Nine Lords of Scotland, with their Nine Pages; G LOCESTER , S USSEX , King E DWARD in his suit of glass , Q UEEN E LINOR , Q UEEN -M OTHER , [ and J OAN ]: the King and Queen under a canopy .

Longsh. Nobles of Scotland, we thank you all
For this day's gentle princely service done
To Edward, England's king and Scotland's lord.
Our coronation's due solemnity
Is ended with applause of all estates:
Now, then, let us repose and rest us here.
But specially we thank you, gentle lords,

Enter L LUELLEN , alias Prince of Wales, Rice AP M EREDITH , O WEN AP Rice , with swords and bucklers, and frieze jerkins .

Lluellen . Come, Rice, and rouse thee for thy country's good:
Follow the man that means to make you great;
Follow Lluellen, rightful Prince of Wales,
Sprung from the loins of great Cadwallader,
Descended from the the loins of Trojan Brute,
And though the traitorous Saxons, Normans, Danes,
Have pent the true remains of glorious Troy
Within the western mountains of this isle,

Enter Gilbert DE C LARE , Earl of G LOCESTER , with the Earl of S USSEX , M ORTIMER , the Earl of M ARCH , and D AVID , L LUELLEN'S brother, waiting on E LINOR , the Queen-Mother.

Q. Mother . My Lord Lieutenant of Glocester, and Lord Mortimer,
To do you honour in your sovereign's eyes,
That, as we hear, is newly come a-land
From Palestine, with all his men-of-war
(The poor remainder of the royal fleet,
Preserved by miracle in Sicil road),
Go mount your coursers, meet him on the way:

PART III .

Meanwhile, Arviragus, a year before
Returned in honor from the English shore,
Led with his faithful Iolene that life
Harmonious, justly balanced, free from strife,
Which crowns our hopes with a true-hearted wife.

Ne'er dreamed he, as she laid her happy head
Close to his heart, what cloud of shame and dread
Gloomed o'er his placid roof-tree; but content
To think how nobly his late toils had spent
Their force beneath Death's gory-dripping brow

PART II .

Soul-epochs are there, when Grief's pitiless storm
O'erwhelms the amazed spirit; when the warm
Exultant heart, whose hopes were brave and high,
Shrinks in the darkness, withering all its sky:
Then, like a wounded bird by the rude wind
Clutched and borne onward, tortured, reckless, blind,
Too frail to struggle with that passionate blast,
We take wild, wavering courses, and at last
Are dashed, it may be, on the rocky verge,
Or hurled o'er the unknown and perilous surge