WYATT. I fear you come to carry it off my shoulders, And sonnet-making's safer. KNYVETT. Why, good Lord, Write you as many sonnets as you will. Ay, but not now; what, have you eyes, ears, brains? This Philip and the black-faced swarms of Spain, The hardest, cruellest people in the world, Come locusting upon us, eat us up, Confiscate lands, goods, money--Wyatt, Wyatt, Wake, or the stout old island will become A rotten limb of Spain. They roar for you On Penenden Heath, a thousand of them--more-- All arm'd, waiting a leader; there's no glory Like his who saves his country: and you sit Sing-songing here; but, if I'm any judge, By God, you are as poor a poet, Wyatt, As a good soldier. WYATT. You as poor a critic As an honest friend: you stroke me on one cheek, Buffet the other. Come, you bluster, Antony! You know I know all this. I must not move Until I hear from Carew and the Duke. I fear the mine is fired before the time. KNYVETT (_showing a paper_). But here's some Hebrew. Faith, I half forgot it. Look; can you make it English? A strange youth Suddenly thrust it on me, whisper'd, 'Wyatt,' And whisking round a corner, show'd his back Before I read his face. WYATT. Ha! Courtenay's cipher. [_Reads_. 'Sir Peter Carew fled to France: it is thought the Duke will be taken. I am with you still; but, for appearance sake, stay with the Queen. Gardiner knows, but the Council are all at odds, and the Queen hath no force for resistance. Move, if you move, at once.' Is Peter Carew fled? Is the Duke taken? Down scabbard, and out sword! and let Rebellion Roar till throne rock, and crown fall. No; not that; But we will teach Queen Mary how to reign. Who are those that shout below there? KNYVETT. Why, some fifty That follow'd me from Penenden Heath in hope To hear you speak. WYATT. Open the window, Knyvett; The mine is fired, and I will speak to them. Men of Kent; England of England; you that have kept your old customs upright, while all the rest of England bow'd theirs to the Norman, the cause that hath brought us together is not the cause of a county or a shire, but of this England, in whose crown our Kent is the fairest jewel. Philip shall not wed Mary; and ye have called me to be your leader. I know Spain. I have been there with my father; I have seen them in their own land; have marked the haughtiness of their nobles; the cruelty of their priests. If this man marry our Queen, however the Council and the Commons may fence round his power with restriction, he will be King, King of England, my masters; and the Queen, and the laws, and the people, his slaves. What? shall we have Spain on the throne and in the parliament; Spain in the pulpit and on the law-bench; Spain in all the great offices of state; Spain in our ships, in our forts, in our houses, in our beds? CROWD. No! no! no Spain!