I was born in the castle—you, poor wretches,
Whelp’d in the cottage, are by birth my slaves.’
Almighty God! such blasphemies are uttered!
Almighty God! such blasphemies believ’d!
Tom Miller. This is something like a sermon.
Jack Straw. Where’s the bishop
Would tell you truths like these?
Hob. There was never a bishop among all the apostles.
John Ball. My brethren!
Piers. Silence, the good priest speaks.