HOWARD. I must set The guard at Ludgate. Fare you well, Sir Ralph. BAGENHALL. 'Who knows?' I am for England. But who knows, That knows the Queen, the Spaniard, and the Pope, Whether I be for Wyatt, or the Queen? [_Exeunt_. SCENE III.--LONDON BRIDGE. _Enter_ SIR THOMAS WYATT _and_ BRETT. WYATT. Brett, when the Duke of Norfolk moved against us Thou cried'st 'A Wyatt!' and flying to our side Left his all bare, for which I love thee, Brett. Have for thine asking aught that I can give, For thro' thine help we are come to London Bridge; But how to cross it balks me. I fear we cannot. BRETT. Nay, hardly, save by boat, swimming, or wings. WYATT. Last night I climb'd into the gate-house, Brett, And scared the gray old porter and his wife. And then I crept along the gloom and saw They had hewn the drawbridge down into the river. It roll'd as black as death; and that same tide Which, coming with our coming, seem'd to smile And sparkle like our fortune as thou saidest, Ran sunless down, and moan'd against the piers. But o'er the chasm I saw Lord William Howard By torchlight, and his guard; four guns gaped at me, Black, silent mouths: had Howard spied me there And made them speak, as well he might have done, Their voice had left me none to tell you this. What shall we do? BRETT. On somehow. To go back Were to lose all. WYATT. On over London Bridge We cannot: stay we cannot; there is ordnance On the White Tower and on the Devil's Tower, And pointed full at Southwark; we must round By Kingston Bridge. BRETT. Ten miles about. WYATT. Ev'n so. But I have notice from our partisans Within the city that they will stand by us If Ludgate can be reach'd by dawn to-morrow. _Enter one of_ WYATT'S MEN. MAN. Sir Thomas, I've found this paper; pray your worship read it; I know not my letters; the old priests taught me nothing. WYATT (_reads_). 'Whosoever will apprehend the traitor Thomas Wyatt shall have a hundred pounds for reward.' MAN. Is that it? That's a big lot of money. WYATT. Ay, ay, my friend; not read it? 'tis not written Half plain enough. Give me a piece of paper! [_Writes 'THOMAS WYATT' large_. There, any man can read that. [_Sticks it in his cap_. BRETT. But that's foolhardy. WYATT. No! boldness, which will give my followers boldness. _Enter_ MAN _with a prisoner_. MAN. We found him, your worship, a plundering o' Bishop Winchester's house; he says he's a poor gentleman. WYATT. Gentleman! a thief! Go hang him. Shall we make Those that we come to serve our sharpest foes? BRETT. Sir Thomas-- WYATT. Hang him, I say. BRETT. Wyatt, but now you promised me a boon. WYATT. Ay, and I warrant this fine fellow's life.