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Take thou thy grievance to the outer hall,
[Exit, with the Yeoman.
Enter the DUKES of BURGUNDY and BOURBON.
Good morrow, Flurry. Not on us, good brother.
Ay, brother, there it is !
you have reasons of your own none doubts,
In Jacques Bonhomme's throat I'll tell him that he slanders me and lies. No soil in Christendom but fits my reasons ; No soil where virtue, chivalry, and honour Are fed and flourish, but shall fit them well. When honour and nobility fall prone In Flanders, think you they stand fast in France ? Or losing ground in France, have hope elsewhere? This by no narrow bound is circumscribed : It is the cause of chivalry at large. Though heir to Flanders I am Frenchman born, And nearer have at heart the weal of France Than my far off inheritance. Come, come ; Lay we before the council the sad truth Of these distractions that so rock the realm, Paris possess'd by Nicholas le Flamand Where law's a nothing and the king a name ; Armies with mallets but beginning there, And gathering like the snow-wreaths in a storm Before a man hath time to get him housed, At Chalons on the Marne, Champagne, Beauvoisin, At Orleans, at Rheims, at Blois, and Rouen, And every reach of road from Paris south : Then point we to the north, where Artevelde Wields at his single will the Flemish force, Five hundred thousand swords; and ask what fate Awaits our France, if those with these unite, Bold villains both, and ripe for riving down All royalty,—thereafter or therewith Nobility !—Then strike whiles yet apart Each single foe.
But Philip speaks us fair.
As fair as false.
My lords, there's proof of that
There, good brother, there! There's Flemish friendship, Flemish love of peace ! Shall we make nought of this ?
Enter the KING with a Hawk on his hand.
How now, my royal cousin, have you done?
O yes, good uncle. Right noble our liege councillors all, We greet you ! We have required your—'
Presence here this day.
We have required your presence here this day
years incline us, but-but-but-'
the rest. Come, Jerry, Jerry, Jerry !
Enter SIR FLEUREANT with the Yeoman.
A yeoman, uncle ? Here, worthy yeoman, you shall kiss our hand. Get off there, Jerry.
[The Yeoman kneels and kisses his hand.
Now, sir, from what place In France or Flanders, com'st thou?
Please your highness, 'Twas a small holding from my lord of Vergues Close to the liberties of Fontenoy.
This side the bourn ?
Three miles, my lord, and long ones.
BURGUNDY. Three miles in France.
And what befell thee there?
My lord, my wife and I, on Wednesday night,
Thou hast done well ; Retire : His Majesty will bring thy case