Report did never yet condemn him so, But he hath always been reputed loyal: And in my knowledge I can say thus much, That he is virtuous, wise, and honourable. If any way his conscience be seduced, To waver in his faith, I’ll send for him, And school him privately; if that serve not, Then afterward you may proceed against him. Butler, be you the messenger for us, And will him presently repair to court. [Exeunt.] SIR JOHN. How now, my lord, why stand you discontent? In sooth, me thinks the King hath well decreed. BISHOP. Yea, yea, sir John, if he would keep his word; But I perceive he favours him so much, As this will be to small effect, I fear. SIR JOHN. Why, then, I’ll tell you what y’are bets to do: If you suspect the King will be but cold In reprehending him, send you a process too To serve upon him: so you may be sure To make him answer ’t, howsoe’er it fall. BISHOP. And well remembered! I will have it so. A Sumner shall be sent about it straight. [Exit.] SIR JOHN. Yea, do so. In the mean space this remains For kind sir John of Wrotham, honest Jack. Me thinks the purse of gold the Bishop gave Made a good show; it had a tempting look. Beshrew me, but my fingers’ ends to itch To be upon those rudduks. Well, tis thus: I am not as the world does take me for; If ever wolf were clothed in sheep’s coat, Then I am he,—old huddle and twang, yfaith, A priest in show, but in plain terms a thief. Yet, let me tell you too, an honest thief, One that will take it where it may be spared, And spend it freely in good fellowship. I have as many shapes as Proteus had, That still, when any villainy is done, There may be none suspect it was sir John. Besides, to comfort me,—for what’s this life, Except the crabbed bitterness thereof, Be sweetened now and then with lechery?— I have my Doll, my concubine, as twere, To frolic with, a lusty bouncing girl. But whilst I loiter here, the gold may scape, And that must not be so. It is mine own; Therefore, I’ll meet him on his way to court, And shrive him of it: there will be the sport. [Exit.] ACT I. SCENE III. Kent. An outer court before lord Cobham’s house. [Enter three or four poor people: some soldiers, some old men.] FIRST. God help! God help! there’s law for punishing, But there’s no law for our necessity: There be more stocks to set poor soldiers in, Than there be houses to relieve them at. OLD MAN. Faith, housekeeping decays in every place, Even as Saint Peter writ, still worse and worse. FOURTH. Master mayor of Rochester has given commandment, that none shall go abroad out of the parish; and they have set an order down forsooth, what every poor householder must give towards our relief: where there be some ceased, I may say to you, had almost as much need to beg as we. FIRST. It is a hard world the while. OLD MAN. If a poor man come to a door to ask for God’s sake, they ask him for a license, or a certificate from a Justice.