And as I scouted near to Islington,
The gray eyed morning gave me glimmering
Of armed men coming down Highgate hill,
Who by their course are coasting hitherward.

KING.
Let us withdraw, my Lords. Prepare our troops
To charge the rebels, if there be such cause.

For this lewd priest, this devilish hypocrite,
That is a thief, a gamester, and what not,
Let him be hanged up for example sake.

SIR JOHN.
Not so my gracious sovereign. I confess that I am
a frail man, flesh and blood as other are: but, set my
imperfections aside, by this light, ye have not a taller
man, nor a truer subject to the Crown and State, than
Sir John of Wrotham.

KING.
Will a true subject rob his King?

SIR JOHN.
Alas, twas ignorance and want, my gracious liege.

KING.
Twas want of grace. Why, you should be as salt
To season others with good document,
Your lives as lamps to give the people light,