BIGOT.
To-morrow morning let us meet him then.

SALISBURY.
Or rather then set forward; for 'twill be
Two long days' journey, lords, or e'er we meet.

[Enter the BASTARD.]

BASTARD.
Once more to-day well met, distemper'd lords!
The king by me requests your presence straight.

SALISBURY.
The King hath dispossess'd himself of us.
We will not line his thin bestained cloak
With our pure honours, nor attend the foot
That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks.
Return and tell him so: we know the worst.

BASTARD.
Whate'er you think, good words, I think, were best.

SALISBURY.
Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now.

BASTARD.
But there is little reason in your grief;
Therefore 'twere reason you had manners now.