First were his sacred garments rent and torne,

Then laide they violent hands upon him, next

Himselfe imprisoned, and his goods asceasd,

This certifie the Pope, away, take horsse.

What neede I, God himselfe is up in armes,

When violence is offered to the church.

What els my lords, for it concernes me neere,

The Bishoprick of Coventrie is his.

But yet lift not your swords against the king.

My lords, to eaze all this, but heare me speake.

We and the rest that are his counsellers,

Will meete, and with a generall consent,

Confirme his banishment with our handes and seales.

At the new temple.

And in the meane time ile intreat you all,

To crosse to Lambeth, and there stay with me.