With clamorous trumpets. To the Empress bear My salutation as befits the time.

[Exeunt GLOCESTER and Forces.

SCENE III.-The Field of Battle. Enter STEPHEN unarmed.

Stephen. Another sword! And what if I could seize One from Bellona's gleaming armoury,

Or choose the fairest of her sheaved spears!

Where are my enemies?

Here come the testy brood.

Here, close at hand,

O, for a sword!
I'm faint a biting sword! A noble sword!
A hedge-stake-or a ponderous stone to hurl
With brawny vengeance, like the labourer Cain.
Come on! Farewell my kingdom, and all hail
Thou superb, plumed, and helmeted renown,
All hail-I would not truck this brilliant day
To rule in Pylos with a Nestor's beard—
Come on!

Enter DE KAIMS and Knights, &c.

De Kaims. Is 't madness or a hunger after death That makes thee thus unarm'd throw taunts at us?Yield, Stephen, or my sword's point dips in

The gloomy current of a traitor's heart.

Stephen. Do it, De Kaims, I will not budge an inch.

De Kaims. Yes, of thy madness thou shalt take

the meed.

Stephen. Darest thou?

De Kaims.

disarm'd?

How dare, against a man

Stephen. What weapons has the lion but himself?
Come not near me, De Kaims, for by the price
Of all the glory I have won this day,
Being a king, I will not yield alive

Το any but the second man of the realm,
Robert of Glocester.

De Kaims.

Thou shalt vail to me.

Stephen. Shall I, when I have sworn against it, sir? Thou think'st it brave to take a breathing king, That, on a court-day bow'd to haughty Maud, The awed presence-chamber may be bold To whisper, there's the man who took alive Stephen-me-prisoner. Certes, De Kaims, The ambition is a noble one.

De Kaims.

"Tis true,

And, Stephen, I must compass it.

Stephen.

No, no,

Do not tempt me to throttle you on the gorge,
Or with my gauntlet crush your hollow breast,
Just when your knighthood is grown ripe and full
For lordship.

A Soldier. Is an honest yeoman's spear

Of no use at a need? Take that.

Stephen.

Ah, dastard!

De Kaims. What, you are vulnerable! my prisoner! Stephen. No, not yet. I disclaim it, and demand Death as a sovereign right unto a king

Who 'sdains to yield to any but his peer,
If not in title, yet in noble deeds,

The Earl of Glocester. Stab to the hilt, De Kaims,
For I will never by mean hands be led

From this so famous field. Do you hear! Be quick! Trumpets. Enter the Earl of CHESTER and Knights.

SCENE IV.-A Presence Chamber.

Queen MAUD in

a Chair of State, the Earls of GLOCESTER and CHESTER, Lords, Attendants.

Maud. Glocester, no more: I will behold that

Boulogne:

Set him before me. Not for the poor sake

Of regal pomp and a vain-glorious hour,

As thou with wary speech, yet near enough,

Hast hinted.

Glocester.

Faithful counsel have I given;

If wary, for your Highness' benefit.

Maud. The Heavens forbid that I should not think

So,

For by thy valour have I won this realm,
Which by thy wisdom I will ever keep.

To

sage advisers let me ever bend

A meek attentive ear, so that they treat

Of the wide kingdom's rule and government,
Not trenching on our actions personal.

Advised, not school'd, I would be; and henceforth

Spoken to in clear, plain, and open terms,

Not side-ways sermon'd at.

Glocester.

Then in plain terms,

Your pardon, Brother,

Once more for the fallen king

Maud,

I would no more of that; for, as I said,
'Tis not for worldly pomp I wish to see

The rebel, but as dooming judge to give
A sentence something worthy of his guilt.

Glocester. If 't must be so, I'll bring him to your

presence.

[Exit GLOCESTER.

Maud. A meaner summoner might do as well— My Lord of Chester, is 't true what I hear

Of Stephen of Boulogne, our prisoner,

That he, as a fit penance for his crimes,

Eats wholesome, sweet, and palatable food

Off Glocester's golden dishes-drinks pure wine,
Lodges soft?

Chester.

More than that, my gracious Queen,

Has anger'd me. The noble Earl, methinks,
Full soldier as he is, and without peer

In counsel, dreams too much among his books.
It may read well, but sure 'tis out of date
To play the Alexander with Darius.

Maud. Truth! I think so. By Heavens it shall not last!

Chester. It would amaze your Highness now to mark How Glocester overstrains his courtesy

To that crime-loving rebel, that Boulogne

Maud. That ingrate!

Chester.

For whose vast ingratitude

To our late sovereign lord, your noble sire,
The generous Earl condoles in his mishaps,
And with a sort of lackeying friendliness,
Talks off the mighty frowning from his brow,
Woos him to hold a duet in a smile,
Or, if it please him, play an hour at chess-
Maud. A perjured slave!

Chester.

And for his perjury,

Glocester has fit rewards-nay, I believe,

He sets his bustling household's wits at work
For flatteries to ease this Stephen's hours,
And make a heaven of his purgatory;
Adorning bondage with the pleasant gloss
Of feasts and music, and all idle shows
Of indoor pageantry; while syren whispers,