KING.
Soft! Whither away so fast?
A true man, or a thief, that gallops so?
BEROWNE.
I post from love. Good lover, let me go.
Enter Jaquenetta, with a letter, and Costard.
JAQUENETTA.
God bless the King!
KING.
What present hast thou there?
COSTARD.
Some certain treason.
KING.
What makes treason here?
COSTARD.
Nay, it makes nothing, sir.
KING.
If it mar nothing neither,
The treason and you go in peace away together.
JAQUENETTA.
I beseech your Grace, let this letter be read.
Our person misdoubts it; ’twas treason, he said.