A man that more detefts, more ftirs againft Be what they will, may ftand forth face to face, Suf. Nay, my lord, That cannot be; you are a counsellor, And by that vertue no man dare accufe you. Gard. My lord, because we've business of more mo ment, We will be short wi'you. 'Tis his Highness' pleasure, You fhall know many dare accufe you boldly, Cran. Ay, my good lord of Winchester, I thank you, Gard 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. Not found, I say. Crom. Would you were half fo honeft! Mens prayers then would feek you, not their fears. Remember your bold life too. Cham. This is too much Forbear, for fhame, my lords. 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;- Cran. Is there no other way of mercy, But I must needs to th' Tower, my lords? Gard. What other Would you expect you're ftrangely troublesome : Let fome o'th' guard be ready there. Cran. For me? Enter the Guard. Muft, I go like a traitor then? Guard. Receive him, And fee him fafe i'th' Tower. I have a little yet to fay. Look there, lords; Cham's Cham. This is the King's ring. 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 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.' SCENE VI. 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; His royal felf in judgment comes to hear King. You're ever good at fudden commendations, Good man, fit down: now let me fee the proudest. [To Cran. He He that dares moft, but wag his finger at thee. Than but once think this place becomes thee not. King. No, Sir, it does not please me. This good man, (few of you deserve that title) Would try him to the utmost, had ye means; Cham. My moft dread Sovereign, may it like your Grace To let my tongue excuse all. Whas was purpos'd If there be faith in men, meant for his tryal, King. Well, well, my lords refpect him: Am, for his love and fervice, fo to him. There is a fair young maid that yet wants baptism, Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may glory In fuch an honour; how may I deferve it, That am a poor and humble fubject to you? King. Come, come, my lord, you'd fpare your fpoons: you shall have Two Two noble partners with you: the old Dutchefs Gard. With a true heart Witnefs, 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 fays thus: do my lord of Canterbury SCENE VII. [Exe Noife and tumult within: Enter Porter and his man. Port You'll Ou'll leave your noise anon, ye rafcals; do you 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 ftrong ones; these are but switches to 'em: I'll fcratch your heads; you must be seeing chriftnings? do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals? Man. Pray Sir, be patient; 'tis as much impoffible (Unless we (wept them from the door with cannons) To fcatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em fleep On May-day morning, which will never be : We may as well pufh against Paul's, as ftir 'em. Port. How got they in, and be hang'd? Man. Alas, I know not; how gets the tide in? As much as one found cudgel of four foot (You |