GRAY.
That have I, my Lord.
CAMBRIDGE.
We should not now be far off from his house;
Our serious conference hath beguiled the way.
See where his castle stands. Give me the writing.
When we are come unto the speech of him,
Because we will not stand to make recount,
Of that which hath been said, here he shall read
[Enter Cobham.]
Our minds at large, and what we crave of him.
SCROOP.
A ready way. Here comes the man himself,
Booted and spurred; it seems he hath been riding.
CAMBRIDGE.
Well met, lord Cobham.
COBHAM.
My lord of Cambridge?
Your honor is most welcome into Kent,
And all the rest of this fair company.
I am new come from London, gentle Lords;
But will ye not take Cowling for your host,
And see what entertainment it affords?
CAMBRIDGE.
We were intended to have been your guests:
But now this lucky meeting shall suffice
To end our business, and defer that kindness.
COBHAM.
Business, my lord? what business should you have
But to be merry? We have no delicates,
But this I’ll promise you: a piece of venison,
A cup of wine, and so forth—hunters’ fare;
And if you please, we’ll strike the stag our selves
Shall fill our dishes with his well-fed flesh.
SCROOP.
That is, indeed, the thing we all desire.