NOBBS. Here's even work towards for the hangman: did you ever see such a crew. After so bad a beginning, what's like to ensue? Faith, even the common reward for rebels, Swingledom. Swangledom, you know as well as I. But what care they? ye hear them say they owe God a death, and they can but die. 'Tis dishonour for such as they to die in their bed, And credit to caper under the gallows, all save the head; And yet, by my fay, the beginning of this riot May chance cost many a man's life, before all be at quiet: And i' faith I'll be amongst them, as forward as the best, And if ought fall out but well, I shall shift amongst the rest, And being but a boy, may hide me in the throng. Tyburn, stand fast; I fear you will be loden, ere it be long. [_Exit._ _Enter_ LORD TREASURER, LORD ARCHBISHOP, _and_ SECRETARY, _with others_. L. T. And yet, Lord Archbishop, your grace doth know That, since the latest time of parliament, Wherein this task was granted to the king By general consent of either house, To help his wars, which he intends to France, For wreak and just recovery of his right, How slow their payment is in every place, That better a king not to command at all, Than be beholding to ungrateful minds. ARCH. Lord Treasurer, it seemeth strange to me, That, being won with reason and regard Of true-succeeding prince, the common sort Should be so slack to give, or grudge the gift That is to be employed for their behoof. Hard and unnatural be the thoughts of theirs That suck the milk, and will not help the well. The king himself, being now but young of age, If things should fall out otherwise than well, The blame doth fall upon the councillor. And if I take my aim not all awry, The Multitude, a beast of many heads, Of misconceiving and misconstruing minds, Reputes this last benevolence to the king, Given at high court of parliament, A matter more required for private good, Than help or benefit of commonweal, Wherein how much they wrong the better sort, My conscience beareth witness in the cause. SEC. My lords, because your words not worthless are, Because they stand on reason's surest ground, And tend unto the profit of the king, Whose profit is the profit of the land. You give me leave, in reverence to the cause, To speak my mind touching this question: When such as we do see the people's hearts, Expressed as far as time will give them leave, With heartiness of their benevolence, Methinks it were for others' happiness, That hearts and purses should together go: Misdeem not, good my lords, of this my speech, Sith well I wot the noble and the slave, And all, do live but for a commonweal,