_Man._ What, sire, shall I say? _Hu._ Well, you should know. 140 _Liv._ (_to Man._). Look, if they ask to hear The last despatches, gull them with some paper; Which while you show, you make as if therefrom You read the king’s not dead. _Ph._ (_to Liv._). Nay, Livio: The word is wanted for a troop of horse. My father never would have brooked this insult From such a mob. _Liv._ Our soldiers are not idle. They laid hands yesterday upon the chief And head of all, one John Palicio. We have certain information that the rebels Cannot be kept together but by him. 150 Hark! they are quiet now. _Hu._ (_to Man. returning_). What is your charm To win such meek obedience? _Man._ They’re gone, your excellence; But not from aught I said: for ere I spoke Some rumour reached them, and the skirt of the throng, That far beyond my hearing stood apart In scattered groups, broke hastily away: Then the next ranks shed off; and then the next Loosened and followed them: till the voice came To the very midst and huddle, where they pressed With upturned faces; then all heads went down, And with a cry they fled. 161 _Hu._ Whither? _Man._ I think To the prison, my lord. _Enter a Soldier._ _Hu._ What now? give me thy matter. _SOLDIER._ The prisoner Palicio is escaped. He killed his guards, and fled beyond pursuit. _Ph._ (_to Liv._). Why, is not this the man you spoke of? _Liv._ Ay, That is the man. _Hu._ Let the patrol be doubled for the night, And give not o’er the search. Alive or dead, A hundred florins to whoever finds him. Blasco, go see to it: he must not escape. 169 _Bl._ (_aside_). But if he be escaped, who’s viceroy then? [_Exit with soldier._ _Hu._ This same Palicio, duke, is the chief rebel: While he was caged, I could despise the rest. But he’s a dangerous fellow; bred in the hills, He is yet of noble blood and high descent: A proud and lofty temper, that hath taken A graft of wildness, and shot forth afresh In base luxuriance. Tho’ yet unbearded, Bandits and exiles own him; and the people, Who hold such men in honour, can be drawn But by his name to any enterprise. 180 ’Tis he that with his bread-tax cry hath stirred The commons to rebel, and be he ’scaped Clear, as ’tis thought, there will be more ado. I’ll not so much as vouch, duke, for your safety, If you should sleep in the palace.