Mor. This we shall Make knowne unto him.
Or. Roome there for their Lordships.
[Ext. Embs.
Bred. What thinck you now, my Lords?
Vand. In my opinion 'Tis time he had his Sentence!
Wm. Is it drawne?
Vand. Yes, here it is. The peoples loves grow daungerous;
In every place the whispers of his rescue;
The lowd and common voice of his deservings
Is floong abroad. Nor doe they handle theis things
By rules of truth and reason, but their owne wills—
Their headstrong hott affections.
Bred. Is he sent for?
Or. Yes and will presently be here.
Bred. Sit downe then, And now with speedy Justice let's prepare To cutt off this Imposthume.