QUEEN. I told you, Salisbury, you mistook the king.
SAL. I did indeed. My liege lord, give me leave
To leave the camp.
KING. Away, old fool! and take with thee that trull;
For if she stay—
SAL. Come, lady, come away,
Tempt not his rage. Ruin wrath always brings:
Lust being lord, there is no trust in kings.
[Exeunt.
Enter MOWBRAY.
MOW. To arms, King John! Fitzwater's field is pitch'd
About some mile hence on a champain[333] plain.
Chester hath drawn our soldiers in array:
The wings already have begun the fight.
KING. Thither we will with wings of vengeance fly,
And win Matilda, or lose victory!
[Exeunt.