I told him, fome maintain'd thofe Opinions,

Men, and truer Subjects than Lord Herbert was:
And he replying in comparisons,,

Your Name was urg'd, my Lord, against this challenge,
To be a perfect favourer of the Truth.

And to be fhort, from words we fell to blows,
Our Servants, and our Tenants taking parts.
Many on both fides hurt: and for an Hour
The broil by no means could be pacified,
Until the Judges rifing from the Bench,
Were in their Perfons forc'd to part the fray.
Cob. I hope no Man was violently flain.

Pow. Faith none I truft, but the Lord Herbert's felf,
Who is in truth fo dangerously hurt,

As it is doubted he can hardly fcape.

Cob. I am forry, my good Lord, of thefe ill News.
Pow. This is the caufe that drives me into Kent,
To shroud my felf with you fo good a Friend,
Until I hear how things do fpeed at home.

Cob. Your Lordship is moft welcome unto Cobham :
But I am very forry, my good Lord,

My Name was brought in queftion in this matter,
Confidering I have many Enemies,

That threaten Malice, and do lie in wait
To take the vantage of the fmalleft thing.
But you are welcome, and repofe your Lordship,
And keep your felf here fecret in my House,
Until we hear how the Lord Herbert fpeeds.
Enter Harpool.

Here comes my Man: Sirrah, what News?

Har. Yonder's one Mr. Butler of the Privy Chamber, is fent unto you from the King.

Pow. Pray God the Lord Herbert be not dead, and the King hearing whither I am gone, hath fent for me. Cob. Comfort your felf, my Lord, I warrant you. Har. Fellow, what ails thee? do'st thou quake? do'ft thou fhake? do'ft thou tremble? ha?

Cob. Peace, you old Fool: Sirrah, convey this Gentleman in the back way, and bring the other into the walk. Har. Come, Sir, you're welcome, if you love my Lord. Pow. Gramercy, gentle Friend.

[Exeunt:

Cob.

Cob. I thought as much, that it would not be long Before I heard of fomething from the King,

About this matter.

Enter Harpool, with Master Butler.

Har. Sir, yonder my Lord walks, you fee him;
I'll have your Men into the Sellar the while.
Cob. Welcome, good Mafter Butler.

But. Thanks, my good Lord: his Majefty doth commend his Love unto your Lordship, and wills you to repair unto the Court.

Cob. God bless his Highness, and confound his Enemies, I hope his Majefty is well?

But. In good Health, my Lord.

Cob. God long continue it: methinks you look as though you were not well, what ails ye, Sir?

But. Faith I have had a foolish odd mischance, that angers me: coming over Shooter's-Hill, there came one to me like a Sailor, and askt me Mony; and whilft I ftaid my Horse to draw my Purfe, he takes th' advantage of a little Bank, and leaps behind me, whips my Purfe away, and with a fudden jerk, I know not how, threw me at least three Yards out of my Saddle; I never was fo robb'd in all my Life.

Cob. I am very forry, Sir, for your mischance; we will fend our Warrant forth, to ftay fuch fufpicious Perfons as fhall be found, then Mr. Butler we'll attend you.

But. I humbly thank your Lordship, I will attend you.

Enter the Sumner.

Sum. I have the Law to warrant what I do, and though the Lord Cobham be a Nobleman, that dispenses not with Law, I dare ferve a Process were he five Noblemen, though we Sumners make sometimes a mad flip in a corner with a pretty Wench, a Sumner muft not go always by feeing: a Man may be content to hide his Eyes where he may feel his Profit. Well, this is Lord Cobham's Houfe, if I cannot fpeak with him, I'll clap my Citation upon's Door, fo my Lord of Rochester bad me; but methinks here comes one of his Men.

Har. Welcome Good-fellow, welcome, who would'st thou fpeak with?

Sum. With my Lord Cobham I would fpeak, if thou be one of his Men,

Har.

Har. Yes, I am one of his Men, but thou canst not speak with my Lord.

Sum. May I fend to him then?

Har. I'll tell thee that, when I know thy Errand.

Sum. I will not tell my Errand to thee.

Har. Then keep it to thy felf, and walk like a Knave as thou cam'ft

Sum. I tell thee, my Lord keeps no Knaves, Sirrah.
Har. Then thou ferveft him not, I believe.

is thy Mafter?

Sum. My Lord of Rockefter.

What Lord

Har. In good time: and what would't thou have with my Lord Cobham ?

Sum. I come by vertue of a Procefs, to cite him to appear before my Lord in the Court at Rochester.

Har. afide. Well, God grant me Patience, I could eat this Counger. My Lord is not at home, therefore it were good, Sumner, you carried your Procefs back.

Sum. Why, if he will not be spoken withal, then will I leave it here, and fee that he take Knowledge of it.

Har. 'Zounds you Slave, do you fet up your Bills here: go too, take it down again. Doft thou know what thou doft? Doft thou know on whom thou ferveft a Process? Sum. Yes, marry do I, on Sir John Oldcastle, Lord Cobham.

Har. I am glad thou knowest him yet: and. Sirrah, dost not know that the Lord Cobham is a brave Lord, that keeps good Beef and Beer in his House, and every Day feeds a hundred poor People at's Gate, and keeps a hundred tall Fellows?

Sum. What's that to my Process?

Har. Marry this, Sir, is this Process Parchment?

Sum. Yes marry is it.

Har. And this Seal Wax?
Sum. It is fo.

Har. If this be Parchment, and this Wax, eat you this Parchment and this Wax, or I will make Parchment of your Skin, and beat your Brains into Wax. Sirrah, Sumner, difpatch, devour, Sirrah, devour.

Sum. I am my Lord of Rochester's Sumner, I came to do my Office, and thou fhalt anfwer it.

Har.

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Roch. They give themselves the Names of Proteftants, And meet in Fields and folitary Groves.

S. John. Was ever heard, my Lord, the like 'till now?
That Thieves and Rebels, 'sbloud Hereticks,

Plain Hereticks, I'll ftand to't to their Teeth,.
Should have, to colour their vile Practices,
A Title of fuch worth, as Proteftant?

Enter one with a Letter.

Suf. O but you must not fwear, it ill becomes
One of your Coat, to rap out bloody Oaths.
Roch. Pardon him, good my Lord, it is his Zeal.
An honeft Country Prelate, who laments

To fee fuch foul disorder in the Church.

S. John. There's one they call him Sir John Oldcastle. He has not his Name for nought: For like a Castle Doth he encompass them within his Walls, But 'till that Castle be fubverted quite, We ne'er shall be at quiet in the Realm.

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Roch. This is our Suit, my Lord, that he be ta’en
And brought in queftion for his Herefie:
Befide, two Letters brought me out of Wales,
Wherein my Lord of Hertford writes to me,
What tumult and fedition was begun,
About the Lord Cobham, at the Sizes there,
For they had much ado to calm the Rage,
And that the valiant Herbert is there flain.

Suf. A Fire that must be quench'd. Well fay no more,
The King anon goes to the Council Chamber,

There to debate of Matters touching France,

As he doth pafs by, I'll inform his Grace

Concerning your Petition.

Mafter Butler,

If I forget, do you remember me.

But. I will my Lord.

Roch. Not as a Recompence,

But as a Token of our Love to you, [Offers him a Purse.

By me, my Lords, the Clergy doth present

This Purfe, and in it full a thousand Angels,
Praying your Lordship to accept their Gift.
Suf. I thank them, my Lord Bishop, for their love,
But will not take their Mony, if you please
To give it to this Gentleman, you may.

Roch.

Rock. Sir, then we crave your furtherance herein.
But. The best I can, my Lord of Rochester.
Roch. Nay, pray take it, trust me you shall.

S. John. Were ye all three upon New Market Heath,
You fhould not need ftrain curt'fie who fhould ha't,
Sir John would quickly rid ye of that care.

Suf. The King is coming: Fear ye not, my Lord,
The very firft thing I will break with him

Shall be about your matter.

Enter the King, and Earl of Huntington in talk King. My Lord of Suffolk,

Was it not faid the Clergy did refufe

To lend us Mony toward our Wars in France?
Suf. It was my Lord, but very wrongfully.

King. I know it was: For Huntington here tells me
They have been very bountiful of late.

Suf. And ftill they vow, my gracious Lord, to be so,
Hoping your Majefty will think on them

As of your loving Subjects, and fuppress
All fuch malicious Erors as begin

To fpot their calling, and disturb the Church.
King. God elfe forbid: why, Suffolk,

Is there any new Rupture to difquiet them?
Suf. No new, my Lord, the old is great enough,
And fo increafing, as if not cut down,

Will breed a scandal to your Royal State,
And fet your Kingdom quickly in an uproar.
The Kentish Knight, Lord Cobham, in defpight
Of any Law, or fpiritual Difcipline,
Maintains this upftart new Religion still,
And divers great Affemblies by his means
And private Quarrels are commenc'd abroad,

As by this Letter more at large, my Liege, is made apparent.
King. We do find it here,

There was in Wales a certain Fray of late
Between two Noblemen. But what of this?
Follows it ftraight Lord Cobham must be he
Did cause the fame? I dare be fworn, good Knight,
He never dream'd of any fuch contention.

Roch. But in his Name the quarrel did begin,
About the Opinion which he held, my Liege.
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King