King.
Tis certaine he is past the Riuer Some.

Con.
Mordeu ma via: Shall a few spranes of vs,
The emptying of our fathers luxerie,
Outgrow their grafters.

Bur.
Normanes, basterd Normanes, mor du
And if they passe vnfought withall,
Ile sell my Dukedom for a foggy farme
In that short nooke Ile of England.

Const.
Why whence haue they this mettall?
Is not their clymate raw, foggy and colde.
On whom as in disdaine, the Sunne lookes pale?
Can barley broath, a drench for swolne Iades
Their sodden water decockt such liuely blood?
And shall our quicke blood spirited with wine
Seeme frosty? O for honour of our names,
Let vs not hang like frozen Iicesickles
Vpon our houses tops, while they a more frosty clymate
Sweate drops of youthfull blood.

King.
Constable dispatch, send Montioy forth,
To know what willing raunsome he will giue?
Sonne Dolphin you shall stay in Rone ^note with me.

Dol.
Not so I do ^note beseech your Maiestie.

King.
Well, I say it shalbe so. Exeunt omnes.

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