Hotspur.
Wee'le fight with him to Night.
Worcester.
It may not be.
Dowglas.
You giue him then aduantage.
Hotspur.
Why say you so? lookes he not for supply?
Vernon.
So doe wee.
Hotspur.
His is certaine, ours is doubtfull.
Worcester.
Good Cousin be aduis'd, stirre not to night.
Vernon.
Doe not, my Lord.
Dowglas.
You doe not counsaile well:
You speake it out of feare, and cold heart.
Hotspur.
To night, say I.
Worcester.
The number of the King exceedeth ours:
For Gods sake, Cousin, stay till all come in.
Blunt.
The King hath sent to know
The nature of your Griefes, If that the King
Haue any way your good Deserts forgot,
Which he confesseth to be manifold...
Blunt.
He bids you name your Griefes, and with all speed
You shall haue your desires, with interest;
Blunt.
And Pardon absolute for your selfe, and these,
Herein mis-led, by your suggestion.
Hotspur.
Goe to the King, and let there be impawn'd
Some suretie for a safe returne againe,
And in the Morning early shall my Vnckle
Bring him our purpose: and so farewell.