Erp.
My lord, your nobles jealous of your absence,
Seek through your camp to find you.

K. Henry.
Good old Knight
Collect them all together at my tent:
I'll be before thee.

Erp.
I shall do't, my lord. [Exit.

K. Henry.
O God of battels! steel my soldiers hearts,
Possess them not with fear: take from them now
The sense of reck'ning of th'opposed numbers
Which stand before them. Not to-day, O Lord,
O not to-day, think not upon the fault
My father made in compassing the crown.
I Richard's body have interred new,
And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears,
Than from it issu'd forced drops of blood.

Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
Who twice a-day their wither'd hands hold up
Tow'rd heaven to pardon blood: and I have built
Two chauntries, where the sad and solemn priests
Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do;
Tho' all that I can do is nothing worth,
Since that my penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon. Enter Gloucester.

Glou.
My Liege.

K. Henry.
My brother Glo'ster's voice?
I know thy errand, I will go with thee:
The day, my friend, and all things stay for me. [Exeunt.

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