We speak no treason, man;--we say the king
Is wise and virtuous; and his noble queen
Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous;--
We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot,
A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue;
And that the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks:
How say you, sir? can you deny all this?

BRAKENBURY.
With this, my lord, myself have naught to do.

GLOSTER.
Naught to do with Mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow,
He that doth naught with her, excepting one,
Were best to do it secretly alone.

BRAKENBURY.
What one, my lord?

GLOSTER.
Her husband, knave:--wouldst thou betray me?

BRAKENBURY.
I do beseech your grace to pardon me; and, withal,
Forbear your conference with the noble duke.

CLARENCE.
We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.

GLOSTER.