CROMWELL.
Go, Hodge; make haste, least they chance to call.
HODGE.
I warrant you I'll fit him with a suit.
[Exit Earl & Hodge.]
CROMWELL.
Heavens grant this policy doth take success,
And that the Earl may safely scape away.
And yet it grieves me for this simple wretch,
For fear they should offer him violence:
But of two evils, tis best to shun the greatest,
And better is it that he lives in thrall,
Than such a Noble Earl as he should fall.
Their stubborn hearts, it may be, will relent,
Since he is gone to whom their hate is bent.—
My Lord, have you dispatched?
[Enter Bedford like the Clown, and Hodge in his cloak and his Hat.]
BEDFORD.
How doost thou like us, Cromwell? is it well?
CROMWELL.
O, my Lord, excellent: Hodge, how doost feel thy self?
HODGE. How do I feel my self? why, as a Noble man should do. O, how I feel honor come creeping on! My Nobility is wonderful melancholy: Is it not most Gentlemen like to be melancholy?
CROMWELL. Yes, Hodge; now go sit down in his study, and take state upon thee.
HODGE. I warrant you, my Lord; let me alone to take state upon me: but hark you, my Lord, do you feel nothing bite about you?