The Chronicle Historie
21511060Which euery day their withered hands hold vp
21531062And I haue built two chanceries, more wil I do:
21561063Tho all that I can do, is all too litle.
21611066King. My brother
Glosters voyce.
2161.11067Glost. My Lord, the Army
stayes vpon your pre
sence.
21621068King. Stay
Gloster,
stay, and I will go with thee,
21631069The day my friends, and all things
stayes for me.
22371070Enter Clarence, Gloster, Exeter, and Salisburie.
2237.11071War. My Lords the French are very
strong.
22451072Exe. There is
fiue to one, and yet they all are fre
sh.
22431073War. Of
fighting men they haue full fortie thou
sand.
22461074Sal. The oddes is all too great. Farewell kind Lords:
22501075Braue
Clarence, and my Lord of
Gloster,
22511076My Lord of
Warwicke, and to all farewell.
22551077Clar. Farewell kind Lord,
fight valiantly to day,
22531078And yet in truth, I do thee wrong,
22541079For thou art made on the rrue
sparkes of honour.
22591081War. O would we had but ten thou
sand men
22611082Now at this in
stant, that doth not worke in England.
22621083King. Who
se that, that wi
shes
so, my Cou
sen
Warwick? 22631084Gods will, I would not loo
se the honour
22671087No faith my Cou
sen, wi
sh not one man more,
22781088Rather proclaime it pre
sently through our campe,
22791089That he that hath no
stomacke to this fea
st,
22801090Let him depart, his pa
sport
shall bee drawne,
22811091And crownes for conuoy put into his pur
se,
We