Hotsp.
We'll fight with him to Night.

Worc.
It may not be.

Dowg.
You give him then advantage.

Vern.
Not a whit.

Hot.
Why say you so? looks he not for Supply?

Vern.
So do we.

Hotsp.
His is certain, Our is doubtful.

Worc.
Good Cousin be advis'd, stir not to Night.

Vern.
Do not, my Lord.

Dowg.
You do not counsel well:
You speak it out of fear, and cold heart.

Vern.
Do me no slander, Dowglas: By my Life,
And I dare well maintain it with my Life,
If well-respected Honour bid me on,
I hold as little counsel with weak fear,
As you, my Lord, or any Scot that this day lives.
Let it be seen to morrow in the Battle,
Which of us fears.

Dowg.
Yea, or to night.

Vern.
Content.

Hotsp.
To night, say I.

Vern.
Come, come, it may not be.
I wonder much, being Men of such great Leading as you are,
That you foresee not what Impediments
Drag back our Expedition: certain Horse
Of my Cousin Vernon's are not yet come up,
Your Uncle Worcester's Horse came but to day,
And now their pride and mettle is asleep,
Their Courage with hard labour tame and dull,
That not a Horse is half the half of himself.

Hotsp.
So are the Horse of the Enemy
In general, journey-bated, and brought low:

The better part of Ours are full of rest.

Worc.
The number of the Kings exceedeth ours:
For Gods sake, Cousin, stay till all come in. The Trumpet sounds a Parley. Enter Sir Walter Blunt.

Blunt.
I come with gracious offers from the King,
If you vouchsafe me hearing, and respect.

Hotsp.
Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt:
And would to God you were of our determination.
Some of us love you well: and even those some
Envy your great Deservings, and good Name,
Because you are not of our Quality,
But stand against us like an Enemy.

Blunt.
And Heaven defend, but still I should stand so,
So long as out of Limit, and true Rule,
You stand against Anointed Majesty.
But to my Charge.
The King hath sent to know
The Nature of your Griefs, and whereupon
You conjure from the breast of Civil peace,
Such bold Hostility, teaching his dutious Land
Audacious Cruelty. If that the King
Have any way your good Deserts forgot,
Which he confesseth to be manifold,
He bids you name your Griefs; and with all speed
You shall have your desires, with interest:
And Pardon absolute for your self, and these,
Herein mis-led by your suggestion.

Hot.
The King is kind:
And well we know, the King
Knows at what time to Promise, when to Pay.
My Father, my Uncle, and my self,
Did give him that same Royalty he wears:
And when he was not six and twenty strong,
Sick in the Worlds regard, wretched and low,
A poor unminded Out-law, sneaking home,
My Father gave him welcome to the shore:
And when he heard him swear, and vow to God,
He came to be but Duke of Lancaster,
To sue out his Livery, and beg his Peace,
With tears of Innocency, and terms of zeal:
My Father, in kind heart and pity mov'd,
Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too.
Now, when the Lords and Barons of the Realm
Perceiv'd Northumberland did lean to him,
They more and less came in with Cap and Knee,
Met him in Boroughs, Cities, Villages,

Attended him on Bridges, stood in Lanes,
Laid Gifts before him, proffer'd him their Oaths,
Gave him their Heirs, as Pages, followed him,
Even at the Heels, in golden multitudes.
He presently, as greatness knows it self,
Steps me a little higher than his Vow
Made to my Father, while his Blood was poor,
Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurg:
And now (forsooth) takes on him to reform
Some certain Edicts, and some strait Decrees,
That lay too heavy on the Common-wealth;
Cries out upon Abuses, seems to weep
Over his Countreys Wrongs: and by his Face,
This seeming Brow of Justice, did he win
The Hearts of all that he did angle for.
Proceeded further, cut me off the Heads
Of all the Favourites, that the absent King
In deputation left behind him here.
When he was personal in the Irish War.

Blunt.
Tut, I came not to hear this.

Hot.
Then to the point.
In short time after, he depos'd the King,
Soon after that, depriv'd him of his Life:
And in the neck of that, task't the whole State,
To make that worse, suffer'd his Kinsman March,
Who is, if every Owner were right plac'd,
Indeed his King, to be engag'd in Wales,
There, without Ransom, to lie forfeited:
Disgrac'd me in my happy Victories,
Sought to intrap me by intelligence,
Rated my Uncle from the Council Board,
In rage dismiss'd my Father from the Court,
Broke Oath, committing Wrong on Wrong,
And in conclusion, drove us to seek out
This Head of safety; and withal, to prie
Into his Title: the which we find
Too indirect, for long continuance.

Blunt.
Shall I return this answer to the King?

Hotsp.
Not so, Sir Walter.
We'll withdraw a while:
Go to the King, and let there be impawn'd
Some surety for a safe return again,
And in the morning early shall my Uncle
Bring him our purpose: and so farewell.

Blunt.
I would you would accept of Grace and Love.

Hotsp.
And't may be, so we shall.

Blunt.
Pray Heaven you do. [Exeunt.

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