CAMBRIDGE.
Give it me, lord Scroop.—There is my name.
SCROOP.
And there is my name.
GRAY.
And mine.
COBHAM.
Sir, let me crave,
That you would likewise write your name with theirs,
For confirmation of your master’s word,
The king of France.
CHARTRES.
That will I, noble Lord.
COBHAM.
So now this action is well knit together,
And I am for you. Where’s our meeting, lords?
CAMBRIDGE.
Here, if you please, the tenth of July next.
COBHAM.
In Kent? agreed: now let us in to supper.
I hope your honors will not away to night.
CAMBRIDGE.
Yes, presently; for I have far to ride,
About soliciting of other friends.
SCROOP.
And we would not be absent from the court,
Lest thereby grow suspicion in the king.