Cran. Is there no other way of mercy,
But I must needs to th' Tower my Lords?
Gard. What other,
Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome:
Let some o'th' Guard be ready there.
Enter the Guard.
Cran. For me?
Must I goe like a Traytor thither?
Gard. Receiue him,
And see him safe i'th' Tower
Cran. Stay good my Lords,
I haue a little yet to say. Looke there my Lords,
By vertue of that Ring, I take my cause
Out of the gripes of cruell men, and giue it
To a most Noble Iudge, the King my Maister