Beaufort.
You may rely upon my Information.—
I paid a liberal Price, to learn the Secret.

Buck.
Then, my Lord Cardinal, we stand in Need
Of all your Forecast.—It asks, both Force and Skill,
To ward the heavy Stroke of an Attainder.

Beauf.
Be not dismay'd.—Fear nurses up a Danger:
And Resolution kills it, in the Birth.
  The Dye is cast!

Buck.
You shall approve Me, stedfast.

Beauf.
Our Time is short:—The Night draws on, apace.—
The Queen, and Suffolk, must be found.—In Him,
Our Safety lies.—'Tis well, our Foes attempt
His Life, with Mine.—

Buck.
Behold them Both.

Beauf.
Mark, then,
How we shall Work upon Her tender Fears.

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