Precious God, it frets me to the very gall.
For now of late that slave, that varlet, that heretic, Light of the Gospel,
Is come over the sea, as some credibly tell,
Whom New Custom doth use in all matters as a stay,
The most enemy to us in the world alway;
Whose rancour is such, and so great is his spite,
That no doubt he will straightway banish us quite,
Unless we provide some remedy for the contrary,
And with speed; this is truth that I tell thee, Cruelty.
Cruelty. His wounds, heart and blood, is he come without any nay?