human
What is the matter?
gpt
The saints wot! A warning letter is sent to my Lord Monteagle, and whereto it may grow--Hie you to White Webbs when morning breaketh, with all the speed you may, and tell Mr Catesby of this. I fear--I very much fear all shall be discovered.
human
It's that rascal Tresham! cried Winter.
gpt
He was earnest to have his sister's husband warned, and said he would not pluck forth not another stiver without our promise so to do.
human
Be it who it may, it may be the ruin of us.
gpt
God forbid! I will be at White Webbs with the dawn, or soon after.
human
Mr Meaze