_Jus._ Master Mannering, stand aside, whilst we confer What is best to do.--Townsmen of Wakefield, The Earl of Kendal here hath sent for victuals; And in aiding him we show ourselves no less Than traitors to the king; therefore Let me hear, townsmen, what is your consents. _First Towns._ Even as you please, we are all content. _Jus._ Then, Master Mannering, we are resolv'd-- _Man._ As how? _Jus._ Marry, sir, thus. We will send the Earl of Kendal no victuals, Because he is a traitor to the king; And in aiding him we show ourselves no less. _Man._ Why, men of Wakefield, are you waxen mad, That present danger cannot whet your wits, Wisely to make provision of yourselves? The earl is thirty thousand men strong in power, And what town soever him resist, He lays it flat and level with the ground. Ye silly men, you seek your own decay: Therefore send my lord such provision as he wants, So he will spare your town, And come no nearer Wakefield than he is. _Jus._ Master Mannering, you have your answer; you may be gone. _Man._ Well, Woodroffe, for so I guess is thy name, I'll make thee curse thy overthwart denial; And all that sit upon the bench this day shall rue The hour they have withstood my lord's commission. _Jus._ Do thy worst, we fear thee not. _Man._ See you these seals? before you pass the town, I will have all things my lord doth want, In spite of you. _Geo._ Proud dapper Jack, vail bonnet to the bench That represents the person of the king; Or, sirrah, I'll lay thy head before thy feet. _Man._ Why, who art thou? _Geo._ Why, I am George-a-Greene, True liege-man to my king, Who scorns that men of such esteem as these Should brook the braves of any traitorous squire. You of the bench, and you, my fellow-friends, Neighbours, we subjects all unto the king; We are English born, and therefore Edward's friends. Vow'd unto him even in our mothers' womb, Our minds to God, our hearts unto our king: Our wealth, our homage, and our carcases, Be all King Edward's. Then, sirrah, we Have nothing left for traitors, but our swords, Whetted to bathe them in your bloods, and die 'Gainst you, before we send you any victuals. _Jus._ Well spoken, George-a-Greene! _First Towns._ Pray let George-a-Greene speak for us. _Geo._ Sirrah, you get no victuals here, Not if a hoof of beef would save your lives. _Man._ Fellow, I stand amaz'd at thy presumption. Why, what art thou that dar'st gainsay my lord, Knowing his mighty puissance and his stroke? Why, my friend, I come not barely of myself; For, see, I have a large commission. _Geo._ Let me see it, sirrah [_Takes the commission_]. Whose seals be these?