Were better than a churlish turf of France.
Erp. Not so, my liege: this lodging likes me better,
Since I may say—now lie I like a king.
K. Hen. Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas.—Brothers both,
Commend me to the princes in our camp;
Do my good morrow to them; and anon
Desire them all to my pavilion.
Glo. We shall, my liege.
Exeunt Gloster and Bedford, R.H.
Erp. Shall I attend your grace?