JOHN. The porter of the Fleet? the old King sign'd?—
PUR. Ay, my good lord, ay, ay.
JOHN. Is he reprieved then?
PUR. No, my lord; O, Sir Richard took it from me with his own hand, O!
FAU. Here's a device to bring me in contempt
With the old King, that I ever lov'd.
Princes and Sheriff, you can witness with me,
That I have been with you this afternoon—
Only with you, with nobody but you—
And now a fellow, whom the King would save
By a reprieve, this fellow says, is hang'd.
JOHN. If thou hadst done it, I'd have justified it;
But, Richard, I conceit this jest already:
This mad-mate Skink, this honest merry knave,
Meeting this Pursuivant, and hearing tell
He had a warrant to reprieve a slave
Whom we would hang, stole it away from him.
This is sure the jest; upon my life, it is!
PUR. O, but my warrant, how shall I do? O!
RICH. But look about you, hot-brain'd brother John,
And I believe you'll find it otherwise;
Gloster hath got the warrant in disguise,
And sav'd the fellow you so fain would hang.
JOHN. No, no; how say you, master Sheriff, is he not hang'd?
SHER. My lord, the gibbet was set up by noon
In the Old Bailey, and I charg'd my men,
If I return not, though it were by torchlight,
To see him executed, ere they come.