Blunt. Vpon my life, my Lord, Ile vndertake it,
And so God giue you quiet rest to night
Richm. Good night good Captaine Blunt:
Come Gentlemen,
Let vs consult vpon to morrowes Businesse;
Into my Tent, the Dew is rawe and cold.
They withdraw into the Tent.
Enter Richard, Ratcliffe, Norfolke, & Catesby.
Rich. What is't a Clocke?
Cat. It's Supper time my Lord, it's nine a clocke
King. I will not sup to night,
Giue me some Inke and Paper:
What, is my Beauer easier then it was?
And all my Armour laid into my Tent?
Cat. It is my Liege: and all things are in readinesse
Rich. Good Norfolke, hye thee to thy charge,
Vse carefull Watch, choose trusty Centinels,
Nor. I go my Lord
Rich. Stir with the Larke to morrow, gentle Norfolk
Nor. I warrant you my Lord.
Exit