LIT. JOHN. But not for you, good madam beetle-brows.
WIFE. Out upon him! By my truly, Master Justice, and ye do not clap him
up, I will sue a bill of remorse, and never come between a pair of
sheets with ye. Such a kneve as this! down with him, I pray.
[_Set upon him: he knocks some down_.
WIFE. Ah, good Lord! come not near, good husband; only charge him,
charge him! Ah, good God! help, help!
_Enter_ PRINCE JOHN, _the_ BISHOP OF ELY, _the_
PRIOR OF YORK, _with others. All stay_.
JOHN. What tumult have we here? who doth resist
The king's writs with such obstinate contempt?
WIFE. This kneve.
WAR. This rebel.
JOHN. How now, Little John,
Have you no more discretion than you show?
ELY. Lay hold, and clap the traitor by the heels.
LIT. JOHN. I am no traitor, my good Lord of Ely
First hear me, then commit me, if you please.
JOHN. Speak, and be brief.
LIT. JOHN. Here is a little box,
Containing all my gettings twenty year,
Which is mine own, and no man's but mine own:
This they would rifle, this I do defend,
And about this we only do contend.
JOHN. You do the fellow wrong: his goods are his.
You only must extend upon the Earl's.
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