HUB. She now is where she never will return.
FITZ. Never? O God! is my Matilda dead?
HUB. Dead to the world; dead to this woe she is.
She lives at Dunmow, and is vow'd a nun.
FITZ. Do not delude me, Hubert, gentle son.
HUB. By all the faith and honour of my kin,
By my unstain'd allegiance to the king.
By my own word, that hath reproveless been,
She is at Dunmow.
FITZ. O, how came she there?
HUB. When all these fields were walks for rage and fear:
This howling like a head of hungry wolves,[338]
That, scudding as a herd of frighted deer:
When dust, arising like a coal-black fog,
From friend divided friend, join'd foe to foe,
Yet neither those nor these could either know;
Till here and there, through large wide-mouthed wounds,
Proud life, even in the glory of his heat
Losing possession, belch'd forth streams of blood,
Whose spouts in falling made ten thousand drops,
And with that purple shower the dust allay'd—
At such a time met I the trembling maid;
Seeming a dove from all her fellows parted—
Seen, known, and taken; unseen and unknown
To any other that did know us both,
At her entreats I sent her safely guided
To Dunmow Abbey; and the guide return'd
Assures me she was gladfully receiv'd,
Pitied, and in his sight did take her oath.
FITZ. Hubert, for this thy honourable deed
I and my house will reverence thy name.
HUB. Yet, I beseech you, hide it from the king;
At least that I convey'd her to the place.
Enter KING, MOWBRAY, CHESTER.