LADY B. What will he do? good Lord! what will he do?
Mowbray, I pray you, what is't you will do?
MOW. Why, fire the castle.
LADY B. The castle, Mowbray? tarry, tarry, man!
Hold me not, Chester! gentle Mowbray, stay!
Good Hubert, let me go!
MOW. You must not go:
The king is mov'd, and will not hear you speak.
LADY B. But he shall hear me! pity me, King John!
Call Mowbray back: hear me, for pity's sake!
Regard the Lady Bruce's woful cry!
KING. What dost thou ask?
LADY B. First call back Mowbray.
KING. Stay, Mowbray. Now, be brief.
LADY B. I have some linen garments, jewels, 'tires,
Pack'd in a hamper here within the lodge:
O, let me save it from consuming fire!
KING. And is this all?
LADY B. It's all the little all I here have left.
KING. Away! set fire! linen and trash!
LADY B. Once more hear me! there's a precious gem,
You have not any richer in all the realm:
If fire do blemish it, art never more
To his true colour can the same restore.
KING. Fetch it.
Two of ye help her with her hamper hither.
LADY B. Nay, nay, one will suffice: the jewel if I save,
Is all I ask.
[_Exit with_ CHESTER.
KING. We shall her jewel have.
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