sir John Old-castle.
If he acquite me not, then do your worst.
Bish.We are not bound to do kind offices
For any traitor, schismatike, nor heretike,
The kings hand is our warrant for our worke,
Who is departed on his way for France,
And at Southhampton doth repose this night.
HarpO that it were the blessed will of God, that thou and I were within twenty mile of it, on Salisbury plaine! I would lose my head if euer thou broughtst thy head hither againe. aside.
Oldca.My Lord Warden o'th cinque Ports, & my Lord of Rochester, ye are ioynt Commissioners, fauor me so much, On my expence to bring me to the king.
Bish.What, to Southhampton?
Oldca.Thither my god Lord,
And if he do not cleere me of al guilt,
And all suspition of conspiracie,
Pawning his princely warrant for my truth:
I aske no fauour, but extreamest torture.
Bring me, or send me to him, good my Lord,
Good my Lord Warden, M Shrieue, entreate.
Here the Lord Warden, and Cromer vncouer to the Bishop, and secretly whispers with him.
To heape one sorrow on anothers necke,
Tis griefe enough falsly to be accusde,
And not permitted to acquite my selfe,
Do not thou with thy kind respectiue teares,
Torment thy husbands heart that bleedes for thee,
But be of comfort, God hath help in store,
For those that put assured trust in him.
Deere wife, if they commit me to the Tower,
Come vp to London to your sisters house:
That being neere me, you may comfort me.
One solace find I setled in my soule,
That I am free from treasons very thought,
