And freely urge against me. Suf. Nay, my lord, That cannot be; you are a counfellor, And by that virtue no man dare accufe you. Gard. My lord, because we've business of more moment, We will be short wi'you. 'Tis his Highness' pleasure, From hence you be committed to the Tower; Cran. Ay, my good lord of Winchefter, I thank you, 'Tis my undoing. Love and meeknefs, lord, For what they have been: 'tis a cruelty Gard. Good Mr. Secretary, I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst Crom. Why, my lord? Gard. Do not I know you for a favourer Of this new fect? ye are not found. Crom. Not found? Gard. Gard. Not found, I fay. Crom. Would you were half fo honeft! Mens' prayers then would feek you, not their fears. Crom. Do. Remember your bold life too. Cham. This is too much; Forbear for fhame, my lords. Gard. I've done. Crom. And I. Cham. Then thus for you, my lord: it ftands agreed, I take it, by all voices, that forthwith You be convey'd to th' Tower a prifoner; All. We are. Cran. Is there no other way of mercy, Would you expect? you're ftrangely troublesome: Cran. For me? Enter the Guard. Muft I go like a traitor then? Gard. Receive him, And fee him fafe i'th' Tower. I have a little yet to fay. Look there, lords; Sur. 'Tis no counterfeit. Suf. 'Tis his right Ring, by heav'n. I told ye all, When we first put this dang'rous ftone a rowling, Twould fall upon our felves. Nor. D' you think, my lords, The The King will fuffer but the little finger Cham. 'Tis now too certain. How much more is his life in value with him? Crom. My mind gave me, Ye blew the fire that burns ye; now have at ye. Enter King, frowning on them; takes his feat. Gard. Dread Sov'reign, how much are we bound to heav'n In daily thanks, that gave us fuch a Prince; Good man, fit down: now let me fee the proudest King. No, Sir, it does not please me. I thought, I had had men of fome understanding Was Was it difcretion, lords, to let this man, Not as a groom. There's fome of ye, I fee, Would try him to the utmoft, had ye means; Cham. My most dread Sovereign, may it like your To let my tongue excufe all. What was purpos'd King Well, well, my lords, refpect him: May be beholden to a subject, I Am, for his love and fervice, fo to him. Make me no more ado, but all embrace him : Be friends for fhame, my lords. My lord of Canterbury, I have a fuit which you must not deny me, There is a fair young maid, that yet wants baptism; Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may glory King. Come, come, my lord, you'd fpare your spoons: you fhall have Two noble partners with you: the old Dutchefs Gard. With a true heart Cran. Cran. And let heaven Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation. King. Good man, thofe joyful tears fhew thy true heart: The common voice, I fee, is verify'd Of thee, which says thus: do my lord of Canterbury SCENE, the Palace-yard. [Exeunt. Noife and tumult within: Enter Porter and his man. leave noife anon, ye rafcals; do you Port. Y take the Court for Paris Garden? ye rude flaves, leave your gaping. Within. Good Mr. Porter, I belong to th' larder. Port. Belong to the gallows and be hang'd, ye rogue: is this a place to roar in? fetch me a dozen crab-tree ftaves, and strong ones; these are but fwitches to 'em : I'll fcratch your heads; you must be feeing chriftnings? do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rafcals ? Man. Pray, Sir, be patient; tis as much impoffible (Unless we swept them from the door with cannons) To fcatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em fleep On May-day morning; which will never be : Man. Alas, I know not; how gets the tide in? Port. You did nothing, Sir. Man, I am not Sampjon, nor Sir Guy, nor Colebrand, to mow 'em down before me; but if I fpar'd any that had a head to hit, either young or old, he or fhe, cuckold or |