Cryed out: “I arrest thee, traytour, for thy badnes.”
74.
“How so,” quoth I, “whence riseth your suspition?”
“Thou art a traytour,” quoth he, “I thee arrest:”
“Arrest,” quoth I, “why, where is your commission?”
Hee drew his weapon, so did all the rest,
Crying, “yeeld thee traytour:” I so sore distrest
Made no resistaunce, but was sent to warde,
None saue their seruants assigned to my garde.
75.