_Enter_ WORTIMERUS _and_ CATAGRINUS.
_Wort._ Shall we, in quiet, tamely suffer this?
See our most excellent, most gentle mother,
In bold defiance of all sacred laws,
Thus basely treated?
_Cata._ Do they, then, think our substance form’d of flint?
Or that our hearts are adamant itself?
Where is our brother?--where our dearest sister?
I fear, indeed, they had just cause for flight.
_Wort._ Let’s to the princes, and our troops will follow.
They like not the rude treatment of these Saxons!
_Cata._ I do accept thine offer.
_Enter Lords._
_2nd Lord._ Most gentle princes, whither are ye bound?
_Wort._ To quit oppression, and to seek for justice.
_3rd Lord._ Under your banners, then, we do enlist.
_Cata._ Speak! what hath now been done, that thus ye quit
Your king, your country, and your weighty trust?
_2nd Lord._ The King, on th’ pretext of malady,
Most basely hath divorc’d your mother from him;
And means to take Rowena to his wife.
_Wort._ Gods!
_2nd Lord._ And, her proud father, Hengist, to enrich,
He hath despoil’d me of mine heritage;
And from my sweet, my lovely babes, cut off
Their rights, and ta’en from me my vast estate.
_Wort._ Then, look you, quick repair towards our camp;
Thither, in secret, we’ll convey our mother.
So, fare ye well, good lords.
[_Exeunt._