We will not line his thin
bestained
cloak
With our pure honours, nor attend the foot
That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks.
With our pure honours, nor attend the foot
That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks.
Shakespeare
[Dies]
Enter PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and BIGOT
SALISBURY. Lords, I will meet him at Saint Edmundsbury;
It is our safety, and we must embrace
This gentle offer of the perilous time.
PEMBROKE. Who brought that letter from the Cardinal?
SALISBURY. The Count Melun, a noble lord of France,
Whose private with me of the Dauphin's love
Is much more general than these lines import.
BIGOT. To-morrow morning let us meet him then.
SALISBURY. Or rather then set forward; for 'twill be
Two long days' journey, lords, or ere we meet.
Enter the BASTARD
BASTARD. Once more to-day well met, distemper'd lords!
The King by me requests your presence straight.
SALISBURY. The King hath dispossess'd himself of us.
We will not line his thin bestained cloak
With our pure honours, nor attend the foot
That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks.
Return and tell him so. We know the worst.
BASTARD. Whate'er you think, good words, I think, were best.
SALISBURY. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now.
BASTARD. But there is little reason in your grief;
Therefore 'twere reason you had manners now.
PEMBROKE. Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege.
BASTARD. 'Tis true-to hurt his master, no man else.
SALISBURY. This is the prison. What is he lies here?
