Tower Hill.

Enter the Sheriffs of London and their Officers at one door, the
Warders with their halbards at another.

Second Sheriff.
Officers, what time of day ist?

Officer.
Almost eight o'clock.

Second Sheriff.
We must make haste then, least we stay too long.

Second Warder.
Good morrow, Master Shrieves of London; Master Lieutenant
Wills ye repair to the limits of the Tower,
There to receive your prisoner.

First Sheriff.
Go back, and tell his worship we are ready.

Second Sheriff.
Go bid the officers make clear the way,
There may be passage for the prisoner.