But in my latter houre to purge my selfe,
In that I know the things that I have wrote,
Which as I heare one Shekins takes it ill,
Because my places being but three, contain all his:
I knew the Organon to be confusde,
And I reduc'd it into better forme.
And this for Aristotle will I say,
That he that despiseth him, can nere
Be good in Logick or Philosophie.
And thats because the blockish Sorbonests
Attribute as much unto their workes,
As to the service of the eternall God.

GUISE. Why suffer you that peasant to declaime?
Stab him I say and send him to his freends in hell.

ANJOY. Nere was there Colliars sonne so full of pride.

Kill him. [Close the studie.]

GUISE. My Lord Anjoy, there are a hundred Protestants,
Which we have chaste into the river Sene,
That swim about and so preserve their lives:
How may we doe? I feare me they will live.

DUMAINE. Goe place some men upon the bridge,
With bowes and cartes to shoot at them they see,
And sinke them in the river as they swim.

GUISE. Tis well advisde Dumain, goe see it done.