Your cart stands yonder, guarded by your men,
Who tell me it is loaden with coin.
What sum is there?

MURLEY.
Ten thousand pound, sir Roger: and modestly,
decently, soberly, and handsomely, see what I
have here against I be knighted.

ACTON.
Gilt spurs? tis well.

MURLEY.
But where's your army, sir?

ACTON.
Dispersed in sundry villages about:
Some here with us in Highgate, some at Finchley,
Totnam, Enfield, Edmunton, Newington,
Islington, Hogsdon, Pancredge, Kensington;
Some nearer Thames, Ratcliffe, Blackwall and Bow;
But our chief strength must be the Londoners,
Which, ere the Sun to morrow shine,
Will be near fifty thousand in the field.

MURLEY.
Mary, God dild ye, dainty my dear! but upon occasion,
sir Roger Acton, doth not the King know of it, and
gather his power against us?