Half plain enough. Give me a piece of paper!
[_Writes 'THOMAS WYATT' large_.
There, any man can read that. [_Sticks it in his cap_.

BRETT. But that's foolhardy.

WYATT. No! boldness, which will give my followers boldness.

_Enter_ MAN _with a prisoner_.

MAN. We found him, your worship, a plundering o' Bishop Winchester's
house; he says he's a poor gentleman.

WYATT. Gentleman! a thief! Go hang him. Shall we make
Those that we come to serve our sharpest foes?

BRETT. Sir Thomas--

WYATT. Hang him, I say.

BRETT. Wyatt, but now you promised me a boon.

WYATT. Ay, and I warrant this fine fellow's life.

BRETT. Ev'n so; he was my neighbour once in Kent.
He's poor enough, has drunk and gambled out
All that he had, and gentleman he was.
We have been glad together; let him live.

WYATT. He has gambled for his life, and lost, he hangs.