BRUCE. Oxford, I do.
OX. Can noble English hearts bear the French yoke?
No, Leicester: Richmond, think on Louis' sire,
That left you and your king in Palestine.
QUEEN. And think, beside, you know not Louis's nature,
Who may be as bad as John, or, rather, worse
Than he.
HUB. And look, my lords, upon his silent woe;
His soul is at the door of death, I know.
See how he seeks to suck, if he could draw
Poison from dead Matilda's ashy lips.
I will be sworn his very heart-string nips.
A vengeance on that slave, that cursed Brand!
I'll kill him, if I live, with this right hand.
OX. Thou canst not, Hubert; he hath kill'd himself—
But to our matter. Leicester, pray thee speak.
Young Bruce, for God's sake, let us know thy mind.
BRUCE. I would be loth to be a stranger's slave:
For England's love, I would no French king have.
LEI. Well, Oxford, if I be deceiv'd in John again,
It's 'long of you, Lord Hubert, and the queen.
Yield up the castle, Bruce: we'll once more try
King John's proceedings. Oxford, tell him so.
[OXFORD goes to the KING, does his duty,
and talks with him.
BRUCE. I will come down. But first farewell, dear mother, [Kiss her.
Farewell, poor little George, my pretty brother!
Now will I shut my shambles in again:
Farewell, farewell! [Closes the casement.
In everlasting bliss your sweet souls dwell.
Ox. But you must mend, i' faith; in faith you must[380].