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.
This wilful teasty lord stuck not to say
That Wickliffe was a knave, a schismatic,
His doctrine devilish and heretical,
And what soe'er he was maintained the same,
Was traitor both to God and to his country.
Being moved at his peremptory speech,
I told him some maintained those opinions,
Men, and truer subjects than lord Herbert was:
And he replying in comparisons,
Your name was urged, my lord, gainst his challenge,
To be a perfect favourer of the truth.
And to be short, from words we fell to blows,
Our servants and our tenants taking parts—
Many on both sides hurt—and for an hour
The broil by no means could be pacified,
Until the Judges, rising from the bench,
Were in their persons forced to part the fray.

COBHAM.
I hope no man was violently slain.

POWIS.
Faith, none, I trust, but the lord Herbert's self,
Who is in truth so dangerously hurt,
As it is doubted he can hardly scape.

COBHAM.
I am sorry, my good lord, of these ill news.

POWIS.
This is the cause that drives me into Kent,
To shroud my self with you, so good a friend,
Until I hear how things do speed at home.

COBHAM.
Your lordship is most welcome unto Cobham;
But I am very sorry, my good lord,
My name was brought in question in this matter,
Considering I have many enemies,
That threaten malice, and do lie in wait
To take advantage of the smallest thing.
But you are welcome: and repose your lordship,
And keep your self here secret in my house,
Until we hear how the lord Herbert speeds.
Here comes my man.

[Enter Harpoole.]

Sirra, what news?

HARPOOLE. Yonder's one master Butler of the privy chamber, is sent unto you from the King.

POWIS.
I pray God the lord Herbert be not dead,
And the King, hearing whither I am gone,
Hath sent for me.

COBHAM.
Comfort your self my lord, I warrant you.

HARPOOLE. Fellow, what ails thee? doost thou quake? dost thou shake? dost thou tremble? ha?

COBHAM. Peace, you old fool! Sirra, convey this gentleman in the back way, and bring the other into the walk.

HARPOOLE.
Come, sir; you are welcome, if you love my lord.

POWIS.
God have mercy, gentle friend.

[Exeunt.]

COBHAM.
I thought as much: that it would not be long,
Before I heard of something from the King
About this matter.

[Enter Harpoole with Master Butler.]

HARPOOLE.
Sir, yonder my lord walks, you see him;
I'll have your men into the Cellar the while.

COBHAM.
Welcome, good master Butler.

BUTLER.
Thanks, my good lord: his Majesty doth commend
His love unto your lordship,
And wills you to repair unto the court.

COBHAM.
God bless his Highness, and confound his enemies!
I hope his Majesty is well.

BUTLER.
In health, my lord.

COBHAM.
God long continue it! Me thinks you look
As though you were not well: what ails you, sir?

BUTLER.
Faith, I have had a foolish odd mischance,
That angers me: coming over Shooters hill,
There came a fellow to me like a Sailor,
And asked me money; and whilst I stayed my horse
To draw my purse, he takes th' advantage of
A little bank and leaps behind me, whips
My purse away, and with a sudden jerk,
I know not how, threw me at least three yards
Out of my saddle. I never was so robbed
In all my life.

COBHAM. I am very sorry, sir, for your mischance. We will send our warrant forth, to stay such suspicious persons as shall be found. Then, master Butler, we will attend you.

BUTLER.
I humbly thank your lordship, I will attend you.

ACT II. SCENE I. The same.

[Enter the Sumner.]

SUMNER. I have the law to warrant what I do; and though the Lord Cobham be a noble man, that dispenses not with law: I dare serve process were a five noble men. Though we Sumners make sometimes a mad slip in a corner with a pretty wench, a Sumner must not go always by seeing: a man may be content to hide his eyes, where he may feel his profit. Well, this is my Lord Cobham's house if I can devise to speak with him; if not, I'll clap my citation upon's door: so my lord of Rochester bid me. But me thinks here comes one of his men.

[Enter Harpoole.]

HARPOOLE. Welcome, good fellow, welcome; who wouldst thou speak with?

SUMNER. With my lord Cobham I would speak, if thou be one of his men.

HARPOOLE. Yes, I am one of his men, but thou canst not speak with my lord.

SUMNER.
May I send to him then?

HARPOOLE.
I'll tell thee that, when I know thy errand.

SUMNER.
I will not tell my errand to thee.

HARPOOLE. Then keep it to thy self, and walk like a knave as thou camest.

SUMNER.
I tell thee, my lord keeps no knaves, sirra.

HARPOOLE. Then thou servest him not, I believe: what lord is thy master?

SUMNER
My lord of Rochester.

HARPOOLE. In good time! And what wouldst thou have with my lord Cobham?

SUMNER. I come, by virtue of a process, to ascite him to appear before my lord in the court at Rochester.

HARPOOLE.
[Aside.] Well, God grant me patience! I could eat this
conger. My lord is not at home; therefore it were good,
Sumner, you carried your process back.

SUMNER. Why, if he will not be spoken withal, then will I leave it here; and see you that he take knowledge of it.