COBHAM.
Yet taste a cup of wine before ye go.
CAMBRIDGE.
Not now, my lord, we thank you: so farewell.
[Exeunt all but Cobham.]
COBHAM.
Farewell, my noble lords.—My noble lords?
My noble villains, base conspirators.
How can they look his Highness in the face,
Whom they so closely study to betray?
But I’ll not sleep until I make it known.
This head shall not be burdened with such thoughts,
Nor in this heart will I conceal a deed
Of such impiety against my king.
Madam, how now?
[Enter Harpoole and the rest.]
LADY COBHAM.
You are welcome home, my Lord.
Why seem ye so disquiet in your looks?
What hath befallen you that disquiets your mind?
LADY POWIS.
Bad news, I am afraid, touching my husband.
COBHAM.
Madam, not so: there is your husband’s pardon.
Long may ye live, each joy unto the other.
POWIS.
So great a kindness as i know not how
To make reply; my sense is quite confounded.
COBHAM.
Let that alone: and madam, stay me not,
For I must back unto the court again
With all the speed I can. Harpoole, my horse.