BEDFORD.
How? Cromwell? not my Farrier's son?
CROMWELL.
The same, sir, and am come to succour you.
HODGE.
Yes, faith, sir; and I am Hodge, your poor Smith.
Many a time and oft have I shoed your Dapper Gray.
BEDFORD.
And what avails it me that thou art here?
CROMWELL.
It may avail, if you'll be ruled by me.
My Lord, you know the men of Mantua
And these Bononians are at deadly strife,
And they, my Lord, both love and honour you.
Could you but get out of the Mantua port,
Then were you safe despite of all their force.
BEDFORD.
Tut, man, thou talkest of things impossible.
Dost thou not see that we are round beset?
How, then, is it possible we should escape?
CROMWELL.
By force we cannot, but by policy.
Put on the apparel here that Hodge doth wear,
And give him yours—the States, they know you not,
For, as I think, they never saw your face—
And at a watch-word must I call them in,
And will desire, that we safe may pass
To Mantua, where I'll say my business lies.
How doth your Honor like of this devise?
BEDFORD.
O wondrous good! But wilt thou venter, Hodge?
HODGE.
Will I?—
O noble Lord, I do accord,
In anything I can,
And do agree, to set thee free,
Do fortune what she can.
BEDFORD.
Come, then, let's change our apparel straight.