GARDINER. Knave, thou shalt lose thine ears and find thy tongue, And shalt be thankful if I leave thee that. [_Coming before the Conduit_. The conduit painted--the nine worthies--ay! But then what's here? King Harry with a scroll. Ha--Verbum Dei--verbum--word of God! God's passion! do you know the knave that painted it? ATTENDANT. I do, my Lord. GARDINER. Tell him to paint it out, And put some fresh device in lieu of it-- A pair of gloves, a pair of gloves, sir; ha? There is no heresy there. ATTENDANT. I will, my Lord; The man shall paint a pair of gloves. I am sure (Knowing the man) he wrought it ignorantly, And not from any malice. GARDINER. Word of God In English! over this the brainless loons That cannot spell Esaias from St. Paul, Make themselves drunk and mad, fly out and flare Into rebellions. I'll have their bibles burnt. The bible is the priest's. Ay! fellow, what! Stand staring at me! shout, you gaping rogue! MAN. I have, my Lord, shouted till I am hoarse. GARDINER. What hast thou shouted, knave? MAN. Long live Queen Mary! GARDINER. Knave, there be two. There be both King and Queen, Philip and Mary. Shout! MAN. Nay, but, my Lord, The Queen comes first, Mary and Philip. GARDINER. Shout, then, Mary and Philip! MAN. Mary and Philip! GARDINER. Now, Thou hast shouted for thy pleasure, shout for mine! Philip and Mary! MAN. Must it be so, my Lord? GARDINER. Ay, knave. MAN. Philip and Mary! GARDINER. I distrust thee. Thine is a half voice and a lean assent. What is thy name? MAN. Sanders. GARDINER. What else? MAN. Zerubbabel. GARDINER. Where dost thou live? MAN. In Cornhill. GARDINER. Where, knave, where? MAN. Sign of the Talbot. GARDINER. Come to me to-morrow.-- Rascal!--this land is like a hill of fire, One crater opens when another shuts. But so I get the laws against the heretic, Spite of Lord Paget and Lord William Howard, And others of our Parliament, revived, I will show fire on my side--stake and fire-- Sharp work and short. The knaves are easily cow'd. Follow their Majesties. [_Exit. The crowd following_. BAGENHALL. As proud as Becket. STAFFORD. You would not have him murder'd as Becket was? BAGENHALL. No--murder fathers murder: but I say There is no man--there was one woman with us-- It was a sin to love her married, dead I cannot choose but love her. STAFFORD. Lady Jane? CROWD (_going off_). God save their Graces! STAFFORD. Did you see her die?