WYATT. You as poor a critic
As an honest friend: you stroke me on one cheek,
Buffet the other. Come, you bluster, Antony!
You know I know all this. I must not move
Until I hear from Carew and the Duke.
I fear the mine is fired before the time.

KNYVETT (_showing a paper_).
But here's some Hebrew. Faith, I half forgot it.
Look; can you make it English? A strange youth
Suddenly thrust it on me, whisper'd, 'Wyatt,'
And whisking round a corner, show'd his back
Before I read his face.

WYATT. Ha! Courtenay's cipher. [_Reads_.
'Sir Peter Carew fled to France: it is thought the Duke will be taken.
I am with you still; but, for appearance sake, stay with the Queen.
Gardiner knows, but the Council are all at odds, and the Queen hath no
force for resistance. Move, if you move, at once.'

Is Peter Carew fled? Is the Duke taken?
Down scabbard, and out sword! and let Rebellion
Roar till throne rock, and crown fall. No; not that;
But we will teach Queen Mary how to reign.
Who are those that shout below there?

KNYVETT. Why, some fifty
That follow'd me from Penenden Heath in hope
To hear you speak.