SOLDIER.
God bless your honor.
HARPOOLE.
Hang you, rogues, hang you; there's nothing but misery
amongst you; you fear no law, you.
[Exit.]
OLD MAN.
God bless you, good master Rafe, God save your life;
you are good to the poor still.
[Enter the Lord Powis disguised, and shroud himself.]
COBHAM.
What fellow's yonder comes along the grove?
Few passengers there be that know this way:
Me thinks he stops as though he stayed for me,
And meant to shroud himself amongst the bushes.
I know the Clergy hate me to the death,
And my religion gets me many foes:
And this may be some desperate rogue, suborned
To work me mischief.--As it pleaseth God!
If he come toward me, sure I'll stay his coming--
Be he but one man--what so'er he be.
[The Lord Powis comes on.]
I have been well acquainted with that face.
POWIS.
Well met, my honorable lord and friend.
COBHAM.
You are welcome, sir, what ere you be;
But of this sudden, sir, I do not know you.
POWIS.
I am one that wisheth well unto your honor;
My name is Powis, an old friend of yours.
COBHAM.
My honorable lord, and worthy friend,
What makes your lordship thus alone in Kent,
And thus disguised in this strange attire?
POWIS.
My Lord, an unexpected accident
Hath at this time inforc'd me to these parts;
And thus it hapt:--Not yet full five days since,
Now at the last Assize at Hereford,
It chanced that the lord Herbert and my self,
Mongst other things, discoursing at the table,
Did fall in speech about some certain points
Of Wickliffe's doctrine gainst the papacy
And the religion catholique, maintained
Through the most part of Europe at this day.
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