I left him
somewhere
in the thick of it.
Tennyson
MARY. They are the flower of England; set the gates wide.
[_Exit_ SOUTHWELL.
_Enter_ COURTENAY.
COURTENAY. All lost, all lost, all yielded! A barge, a barge!
The Queen must to the Tower.
MARY. Whence come you, sir?
COURTENAY. From Charing Cross; the rebels broke us there,
And I sped hither with what haste I might
To save my royal cousin.
MARY. Where is Pembroke?
COURTENAY.
I left him somewhere in the thick of it.
MARY. Left him and fled; and thou that would'st be King,
And hast nor heart nor honour. I myself
Will down into the battle and there bide
The upshot of my quarrel, or die with those
That are no cowards and no Courtenays.
COURTENAY. I do not love your Grace should call me coward.
_Enter another_ MESSENGER.
MESSENGER. Over, your Grace, all crush'd; the brave Lord William
Thrust him from Ludgate, and the traitor flying
To Temple Bar, there by Sir Maurice Berkeley
Was taken prisoner.
MARY. To the Tower with _him_!
MESSENGER. 'Tis said he told Sir Maurice there was one
Cognisant of this, and party thereunto,
My Lord of Devon.
MARY. To the Tower with _him_!
COURTENAY.
