SAL. Stay, and assay them first!
I say to you, fair queen, this fact is foul.
Let not provoking words whet dull-edg'd swords,
But try if we can blunt sharp blades with words.
Fitzwater's nephew, Bruce, I see thee there,
And tell thee it is shame for such a boy
To lead a many able men to fight.
And, modest-looking maid, I see you too:
An unfit sight to view virginity
Guarded with other soldiers than good prayers.
But you will say the king occasions it:
Say what you will, no king but would take cause
Of just offence.
Yield you, young Bruce, your mother is in hold.
Yield you, young maid, your father is in hold.
MAT. Will the queen keep me from the lustful king,
Then will I yield.
QUEEN. A plague upon this counterfeiting quean.
MAT. God's blessed mercy! will you still be mad,
And wrong a noble virgin with vile speech?
SAL. Let me alone. Matilda, maiden fair,
Thou virgin spouse, true Huntington's just heir,
Wilt thou come hither? and I do protest,
The queen and I, to mitigate this war,
Will do what thou wouldst have.
MAT. I come.
BRUCE. You shall not go. Sound, drums, to war!
Alack, alack, for woe!
Well, God for us! sith it will needs be so.
[Alarum, fight, stay.
SAL. What stay you for?
BRUCE. Matilda's cries do stay us.