Bran.
Your office, Serjeant; execute it.

Serj.
Sir,
My lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earl
Of Hertford, Stafford, and Northampton, I
Arrest thee of high treason, in the name
Of our most Sov'reign King.

Buck.
Lo you, my lord,
The net has fall'n upon me; I shall perish

Under device and practice.

Bran.
I am sorry
To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on
The business present. 'Tis his Highness' pleasure
You shall to th' Tower.

Buck.
It will help me nothing
To plead mine innocence; for that dye is on me,
Which makes my whit'st part black. The will of heav'n
Be done in this and all things! I obey.
O my lord Aberga'ny, fare ye well.

Bran.
Nay, he must bear you company. The King
Is pleas'd you shall to th' Tower, 'till you know
How he determines further.

Aber.
As the Duke said,
The will of heav'n be done, and the Kings pleasure
By me obey'd!

Bran.
Here is a warrant from
The King, t'attach lord Montague; and the bodies
Of the Duke's confessor, John de la Court
And Gilbert Peck, his chancellor.

Buck.
So, so;
These are the limbs o'th' plot; no more, I hope?

Bran.
A monk o'th' Chartreux.

Buck.
Nicholas Hopkins?

Bran.
He.

Buck.
My surveyor is false, the o'er-great Cardinal
Hath shew'd him gold; my life is spann'd already:
I am the shadow of poor Buckingham,
Whose figure ev'n this instant cloud puts on,
By dark'ning my clear sun. My lord, farewel. [Exeunt.

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