Enter Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer.
YORK.
Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles,
You are come to Sandal in a happy hour;
The army of the Queen mean to besiege us.
SIR JOHN.
She shall not need; we’ll meet her in the field.
YORK.
What, with five thousand men?
RICHARD.
Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need.
A woman’s general; what should we fear?
[A march afar off.]
EDWARD.
I hear their drums. Let’s set our men in order,
And issue forth and bid them battle straight.
YORK.
Five men to twenty! Though the odds be great,
I doubt not, uncle, of our victory.
Many a battle have I won in France
Whenas the enemy hath been ten to one.
Why should I not now have the like success?
[Alarum. Exeunt.]