CAMBRIDGE. Not so, sir John, for he is tyrannous, And gores the other deer, and will not keep Within the limits are appointed him. Of late he’s broke into a several, Which doth belong to me, and there he spoils Both corn and pasture. Two of his wild race, Alike for stealth and covetous encroaching, Already are removed; if he were dead, I should not only be secure from hurt, But with his body make a royal feast. SCROOP. How say you, then; will you first hunt with us? COBHAM. Faith, Lords, I like the pastime; where’s the place> CAMBRIDGE. Peruse this writing; it will shew you all, And what occasion we have for the sport. [He reads.] COBHAM. Call ye this hunting, my lords? Is this the stag You fain would chase—Harry our dread king? So we may make a banquet for the devil, And in the stead of wholesome meat, prepare A dish of poison to confound our selves. CAMBRIDGE. Why so, lord Cobham? See you not our claim? And how imperiously he holds the crown? SCROOP. Besides, you know your self is in disgrace, Held as a recreant, and pursued to death. This will defend you from your enemies, And stablish your religion through the land. COBHAM. Notorious treason! yet I will conceal [Aside.] My secret thoughts, to sound the depth of it. My lord of Cambridge, I do see your claim, And what good may redound unto the land By prosecuting of this enterprise. But where are the men? where’s power and furniture To order such an action? We are weak; Harry, you know’s a mighty potentate. CAMBRIDGE. Tut, we are strong enough: you are beloved, And many will be glad to follow you; We are the like, and some will follow us. Besides, there is hope from France: here’s an ambassador That promiseth both men and money too. The commons likewise (as we hear) pretend A sudden tumult; we will join with them. COBHAM. Some likelihood, I must confess, to speed; But how shall I believe this is plain truth? You are, my lords, such men as live in Court, And highly have been favoured of the king, Especially lord Scroop, whom oftentimes He maketh choice of for his bedfellow; And you, lord Gray, are of his privy counsel: Is not this a train to entrap my life? CAMBRIDGE. Then perish may my soul! What, think you so? SCROOP. We’ll swear to you. GRAY. Or take the sacrament. COBHAM. Nay, you are noble men, and I imagine, As you are honorable by birth and blood, So you will be in heart, in thought, in word. I crave no other testimony but this: That you would all subscribe, and set your hands Unto this writing which you gave to me. CAMBRIDGE. With all our hearts. Who hath any pen and ink? SCROOP. My pocket should have one: yea, here it is. 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.