iety unconsumed.

_Godf_. His frend before him wisht the towne a fyre,
Now hee would burne the cloyster: too arch-pillers![107]

_Ashb_. And lyke such
Our purpose is to use them. Dare not, miscreant,
But to give these a menace whom thou calst thyne,
No not by beck or nod; if thou but styer [stir]
To doo unto this howse of sanctity
Damadge or outrage, I will lay thee prostrate
Beneathe these staves and halberts.

_Mild_. Is this lawe?

_Godf_. Yes _Staffords_[108] lawe.

_Ashb_. Naye, feare not, pretty guerles;
The fryars them selfs, weare they not at theire prayers
Wold have doon more than this in just defens
Of theire immunityes; but in theire absens
I stand for them, nor shall you part from hence
Or dare to sqeelche till they themselves be judge.
Of injurye doone to this sacred place,
Or such as I have sent for make appearance
To clayme what thou unjustly calst thyne owne.

_Godf_. Nay, thou shall stand; wee have too stringes to our Bow.

_Ashb_. If hee but styer then stryke.

_Mild_. This _Stafford_ law,
Which I till nowe heard never nam'd in _France_,
Is for the present a more fearefull coort
Then chancery or star-chamber. I want motion;
You have made [me] a statue, a meere Imadge.

_Godf_.[109] Styer and thou diest: weele maule you.

_Mild_. Iff heare I can have none, lett me depart
To seake elcewhere for justyce.

_Sarl_. Keepe him prisoner,
And sett mee free to finde some advocate
To pleade in his just cause.

_Godf_. Neather styrre
In payne of too _Frensh_ crownes, and they so crack[t]
Never more to passe for currant.

_Ashb_. That presume.

_Mild_. Misery of miseryes! I am bound hand and foote,
And yet boath legges and armes at liberty.

_Godf_. Yes by the lawe cald _Stafforde_.

_Enter Mr. Raphael, Mr. Treadway and the Clowne_.

_Raph_. Durst then the slave use my _Palestra_ thus,
And dragge her by the heyre from sanctuary?

_Clowne_. Most trew, Syr.

_Raph_. Why did'st not kill him?

_Clowne_. If I had had but a swoard I had doon't, but I sought the
villadge through and cold find neare a cutter.

_Raph_. Weare there no skattered stones lye in the streete
To have beate his breynes out?

_Clowne_. Not a stone to throwe att a dogg.

_Raph_. Had'st thou not heeles

_Clowne_. Yes to have kickt him lyke a dogge, but I reserved them to
roon the more nimbly about your busines.

_Pal_. I nowe spye a newe sanctuary, his armes,
In which I may pursue security.
My _Raphael_!