Prin. Go beare this Letter to Lord Iohn of Lancaster
To my Brother Iohn. This to my Lord of Westmerland,
Go Peto, to horse: for thou, and I,
Haue thirtie miles to ride yet ere dinner time.
Iacke, meet me tomorrow in the Temple Hall
At two a clocke in the afternoone,
There shalt thou know thy Charge, and there receiue
Money and Order for their Furniture.
The Land is burning, Percie stands on hye,
And either they, or we must lower lye
Fal. Rare words! braue world.
Hostesse, my breakfast, come:
Oh, I could wish this Tauerne were my drumme.
Exeunt. omnes.
Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Harrie Hotspurre, Worcester, and Dowglas.
Hot. Well said, my Noble Scot, if speaking truth
In this fine Age, were not thought flatterie,
Such attribution should the Dowglas haue,
As not a Souldiour of this seasons stampe,
Should go so generall currant through the world.
By heauen I cannot flatter: I defie
The Tongues of Soothers. But a Brauer place
In my hearts loue, hath no man then your Selfe.
Nay, taske me to my word: approue me Lord
Dow. Thou art the King of Honor:
No man so potent breathes vpon the ground,
But I will Beard him.
Enter a Messenger.
Hot. Do so, and 'tis well. What letters hast there?
I can but thanke you