Chapter 23

_Enter_ OXFORD, QUEEN.

OX. Now, by my faith, you are to blame, madam, Ever tormenting, ever vexing you: Cease of these fretting humours: pray ye, do. Grief will not mend it; nought can pleasure you But patient suffering; nor, by your grace's leave, Have you such cause to make such hue and cry After a husband; you have not in good sooth. Yearly a child! this payment is not bad. Content, fair queen, and do not think it strange, That kings do sometimes seek delight in change: For now and then, I tell you, poor men range. Sit down a little, I will make you smile. Though I be now like to the snowy Alps, I was as hot as Aetna in my youth; All fire, i' faith, true heart of oak, right steel-- A ruffian, lady. Often for my sport I to a lodge of mine did make resort, To view my dear, I said; dear God can tell, It was my keeper's wife whom I lov'd well. My countess (God be with her) was a shrow, As women be, your majesty doth know; And some odd pick-thank put it in her head, All was not well: but such a life I led, And the poor keeper and his smooth-fac'd wife, That, will I, nill I, there she might not bide. But for the people I did well provide; And by God's mother, for my lady's spite, I trick'd her in her kind, I serv'd her right. Were she at London, I the country kept; Come thither, I at London would sojourn; Came she to court, from court I straightway stepp'd; Return, I to the court would back return. So this way, that way, every way she went, I still was retrograde, sail'd[346] opposite: Till at the last, by mildness and submission, We met, kiss'd, joined, and here left all suspicion.

QUEEN. Now out upon you, Vere: I would have thought The world had not contain'd a chaster man.

OX. Now, by my fay, I will be sworn I am. In all I tell you I confess no ill, But that I curb'd a froward woman's will: Yet had my keeper's wife been of my mind, There had been cause some fault with us to find; But I protest her noes and nays were such, That for my life she ever kept go much.[347]

QUEEN. You would take nay, but our King John says no; No nay, no answer will suffice his turn: He, for he cannot tempt true chastity, Fills all the land with hostile cruelty. Is it not shame, he that should punish sin, Defend the righteous, help the innocent, Carves with his sword the purpose of his will Upon the guarders of the virtuous, And hunts admired, spotless maidenhead With all the darts of desolation, Because she scorneth to be dissolute? Me that he leaves, I do not murmur at; That he loves her, doth no whit me perplex, If she did love him, or myself did hate: But this alone is it that doth me vex: He leaves me that loves him, and her pursues, That loathes him and loves me. How can I choose But sadly grieve, and mourn in my green youth, When nor of her nor me he taketh ruth?

OX. Ha' done, good queen: for God's good love, ha' done: This raging humour will no doubt be stay'd. Virtuous Matilda is profess'd a nun; Within a mile (at Dunmow) lives the maid. God will not suffer anything so vile; He will not, sure, that he should her defile.

QUEEN. No church nor chapel, abbey, nunnery, Are privileg'd from his intemperance. But leave we him, and let us, I entreat, Go visit fair Matilda: much I am In debt unto the maid.

OX. You are indeed; You wrong'd her, when with blows you made her bleed. But if you please to visit her, fair dame, Our coach is ready: we will soon be there.

QUEEN. Thanks, Oxford; and with us I mean to bear The beauteous garland sent me out of Spain, Which I will offer in the abbey chapel, As witness of Matilda's chastity; Whom, while I live, I ever vow to love, In recompense of rash and causeless wrong.