[♦] Bishop of Exeter, his brother there,
[♦] With many moe confederates, are in arms.
Enter another Messenger.
[505] Sec. Mess. My liege, in Kent, the Guildfords are in arms;
[♦] And every hour more competitors
[♦] Flock to their aid, and still their power increaseth.
Enter another Messenger.
[♦] Third Mess. My lord, the army of the Duke of Buckingham—
[♦] K. Rich. Out on you, owls! nothing but songs of death? [He striketh him.
[510] Take that, until thou bring me better news.