Buck. Lo you my Lord,
The net has falne vpon me, I shall perish
Vnder deuice, and practise

Bran. I am sorry,
To see you tane from liberty, to looke on
The busines present. Tis his Highnes pleasure
You shall to th' Tower

Buck. It will helpe me nothing
To plead mine Innocence; for that dye is on me
Which makes my whit'st part, black. The will of Heau'n
Be done in this and all things: I obey.
O my Lord Aburgany: Fare you well

Bran. Nay, he must beare you company. The King
Is pleas'd you shall to th' Tower, till you know
How he determines further

Abur. As the Duke said,
The will of Heauen be done, and the Kings pleasure
By me obey'd

Bran. Here is a warrant from
The King, t' attach Lord Mountacute, and the Bodies
Of the Dukes Confessor, Iohn de la Car,
One Gilbert Pecke, his Councellour

Buck. So, so;
These are the limbs o'th' Plot: no more I hope