The mayor is here at hand: intend some fear;
Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit:
And look you get
a prayer-book in your hand,
And stand betwixt two churchmen, good my lord;
For on that ground I'll build
a holy descant:
And be not easily won to our request:
Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it.
I go; and if you plead as well for them
As I can say nay to thee for myself,
No doubt well bring it to a happy
Go, go, up to the leads; the lord mayor knocks.
Enter the Lord Mayor and Citizens
Welcome my lord; I dance attendance here;
I think the duke will not be spoke withal.
Here comes his servant: how now, Catesby,
What says he?
My lord: he doth entreat your grace;
To visit him to-morrow or next day:
He is within, with two right reverend
Divinely bent to meditation;
And no worldly suit would he be moved,
To draw him from his holy
Return, good Catesby, to thy lord again;
Tell him, myself, the mayor and citizens,
In deep designs and
matters of great moment,
No less importing than our general good,
Are come to have some conference
with his grace.
I'll tell him what you say, my lord.
Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward!
He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed,
But on his knees at
Not dallying with a brace of courtezans,
But meditating with two deep divines;
Not sleeping, to
engross his idle body,
But praying, to enrich his watchful soul:
Happy were England, would this gracious
Take on himself the sovereignty thereof:
But, sure, I fear, we shall ne'er win him to it.
Marry, God forbid his grace should say us nay!
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