There is the platform, and their hands, my lord,
Each severally subscribed to the same.
KING.
Oh never heard of, base ingratitude!
Even those I hug within my bosom most
Are readiest evermore to sting my heart.
Pardon me, Cobham, I have done thee wrong;
Hereafter I will live to make amends.
Is, then, their time of meeting no near hand?
We'll meet with them, but little for their ease,
If God permit. Go, take these rebels hence;
Let them have martial law: but as for thee,
Friend to thy king and country, still be free.
[Exeunt.]
MURLEY.
Be it more or less, what a world is this?
Would I had continued still of the order of knaves,
And never sought knighthood, since it costs so dear.
Sir Roger, I may thank you for all.
ACTON.
Now tis too late to have it remedied,
I prithee, Murley, do not urge me with it.
HUNTINGTON.
Will you away, and make no more to do?
MURLEY.
Fie, paltry, paltry! to and fro, as occasion serves;
If you be so hasty, take my place.
HUNTINGTON.
No, good sir knight, you shall begin in your hand.
MURLEY.
I could be glad to give my betters place.
[Exeunt.]
ACT IV. SCENE III. Kent. Court before lord
Cobham's house.
[Enter Bishop, lord Warden, Cromer the Shrieve,
Lady Cob, and attendants.
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