I fear me much, will drown too many lives.

CHOLMLEY.
Now, afore God, your honors, pardon me:
Men of your place and greatness are to blame.
I tell ye true, my lords, in that his majesty
Is not informed of this base abuse
And daily wrongs are offered to his subjects;
For, if he were, I know his gracious wisdom
Would soon redress it.

[Enter a Messenger.]

SHREWSBURY.
Sirrah, what news?

CHOLMLEY.
None good, I fear.

MESSENGER.
My lord, ill news; and worse, I fear, will follow,
If speedily it be not looked unto:
The city is in an uproar, and the Mayor
Is threatened, if he come out of his house.
A number poor artificers are up
In arms and threaten to avenge their wrongs.

CHOLMLEY.
We feared what this would come unto:
This follows on the doctors publishing