Prate. Nay, your lordship must be brief, I'll not attend
The shallow sleight of words—your suit, your suit.
Mech. The restoration of my lands and honours.
Prate. They are confiscate.
Mech. My lands confiscate, and my body free?
Prate. My lord, my lord, the queen's more merciful.
Mech. Sir, you forget my place.
Prate. Sir, you forget your faith:
'Twas known unto the queen, the state, and us,
Your malcontented spirit, your disease in duty,
Your diligent perturbance of the peace!
Your passages, occurrences, and—
Mech. Sir!
Prate. Sir me no sirs,
Do not I know you were the chief of those,
Which rais'd the war in Sicil? and long since
Wrought in the king's laws[194] bloody business?
Did not you hold fair quarter and commerce
With all the spies of Cyprus? fie, I am asham'd
Blind impudence should make you be so bold,
To bear your face before authority.
Mech. But hear me.