LADY COBHAM. My Lord, believe me, as I have a soul, I know not where my lord my husband is.
BISHOP. Go to, go to, ye are an heretic, And will be forced by torture to confess, If fair means will not serve to make ye tell.
LADY COBHAM. My husband is a noble gentleman, And need not hide himself for any fact That ere I heard of; therefore wrong him not.
BISHOP. Your husband is a dangerous schismatic, Traitor to God, the King, and common wealth: And therefore, master Croamer, shrieve of Kent, I charge you take her to your custody, And seize the goods of Sir John Old-castle To the King's use. Let her go in no more, To fetch so much as her apparel out. There is your warrant from his majesty.
LORD WARDEN. Good my Lord Bishop, pacify your wrath Against the Lady.
BISHOP. Then let her confess Where Old-castle her husband is concealed.
LORD WARDEN. I dare engage mine honor and my life, Poor gentlewoman, she is ignorant And innocent of all his practises, If any evil by him be practised.
BISHOP. If, my Lord Warden? nay, then I charge you, That all the cinque Ports, whereof you are chief, Be laid forthwith, that he escape us not. Shew him his highness' warrant, Master Shrieve.
LORD WARDEN. I am sorry for the noble gentleman--
[Enter Old-castle and Harpoole.]
BISHOP. Peace, he comes here; now do your office.
COBHAM. Harpoole, what business have we here in hand? What makes the Bishop and the Sheriff here? I fear my coming home is dangerous, I would I had not made such haste to Cobham.
HARPOOLE. Be of good cheer, my Lord: if they be foes, we'll scramble shrewdly with them: if they be friends, they are welcome. One of them (my Lord Warden) is your friend; but me thinks my lady weeps; I like not that.
CROAMER. Sir John Old-castle, Lord Cobham, in the King's majesty's name, I arrest ye of high treason.
COBHAM. Treason, Master Croamer?
HARPOOLE. Treason, Master Shrieve? sblood, what treason?
COBHAM. Harpoole, I charge thee, stir not, but be quiet still. Do ye arrest me, Master Shrieve, for treason?
BISHOP. Yea, of high treason, traitor, heretic.
COBHAM. Defiance in his face that calls me so. I am as true a loyal gentleman Unto his highness as my proudest enemy. The King shall witness my late faithful service, For safety of his sacred majesty.
BISHOP. What thou art the king's hand shall testify: Shewt him, Lord Warden.
COBHAM. Jesu defend me! Is't possible your cunning could so temper The princely disposition of his mind, To sign the damage of a loyal subject? Well, the best is, it bears an antedate, Procured by my absence, and your malice, But I, since that, have shewd my self as true As any churchman that dare challenge me. Let me be brought before his majesty; If he acquit me not, then do your worst.
BISHOP. We are not bound to do king offices For any traitor, schismatic, nor heretic. The king's hand is our warrant for our work, Who is departed on his way for France, And at Southhampton doth repose this night.
HARPOOLE. O that it were the blessed will of God, that thou and I were within twenty mile of it, on Salisbury plan! I would lose my head if ever thou broughtst thy head hither again.
[Aside.]
COBHAM. My Lord Warden o' the cinque Ports, & my Lord of Rochester, ye are joint Commissioners: favor me so much, On my expence to bring me to the king.
BISHOP. What, to Southhampton?
COBHAM. Thither, my good Lord, And if he do not clear me of all guilt, And all suspicion of conspiracy, Pawning his princely warrant for my truth: I ask no favour, but extremest torture. Bring me, or send me to him, good my Lord: Good my Lord Warden, Master Shrieve, entreat.
[Here the Lord Warden, and Croamer uncover the Bishop, and secretly whispers with him.]
Come hither, lady--nay, sweet wife, forbear To heap one sorrow on another's neck: Tis grief enough falsely to be accused, And not permitted to acquit my self; Do not thou with thy kind respective tears, Torment thy husband's heart that bleeds for thee, But be of comfort.